It is the most intimate a situation he had ever found himself in.
On a public transport, after someone had left their roost,
He had replaced himself in their seat.
An odd sensation went through him as he sat down,
The feeling that he was trespassing in someone else's skin,
Learning things about them they hadn't meant to leave behind.
He felt their warmth, the way the seat contoured to them
And he knew not their name.
There were feelings left in the seat
Sadness, depression and pain saturated the resting place,
Yet something lifted his heart out of his chest,
Rising from his perch and flying to the sky.
Hope had also been found through the prior resident,
Remaining in the seat like a lost wallet.
He drew on this remarkable gift amid the monotony of the rocking subway;
The gratification he felt toward this unknowing Maecenas was not to be extinguished,
At least for that one blissful moment found on
Public transportation.

i am so small,
devoured by
my depression

if i were a flower,
i'd be shrivelled,
on the brink
of being nothing
but soil and dirt

and one day,
i met a boy
who promised
to water me

i promised him
that if he did,
i would grow
and he watered me
day after day,
showered me
abundantly

everyday,
i'd tell him
that i am better,
i have grown 
taller

but he'd grab
my wrist,
measure me
with the ruler
i've created
on my arm

and see that
i've remained
small and 
have gotten
even smaller

he cried and
showered me
with the love in
his salt tears

he cried to me
telling me that
he feared the day
that i would shrink
into nothing,
into death

he watered me
more than before
and his water
was too much

i was flooded,
drowning in
the water
that was supposed
to give me life

I've been attending my funeral
In this new reoccurring dream
It seems even my subconscious
Is growing tired
Of this Low self esteem
And the man behind the gun
Is just the man in the mirror
I've even started praying to god
That  this muddled vision of my future
Might become a little clearer
Because this gift I've been given
Is like a malnourished seed
All this time waiting for flowers or trees
But left there at my headstone
Just a pile of weeds

I will regret this in the morning
but I will do it anyway
my impulsivity often overpowers my conscience
yet I am almost always fully aware
of the decisions I make
and their consequences
I am not exactly mentally stable
but I am sane enough
to know right from wrong
yesterday from today
love from lust
although sometimes I mix them up
I have a tendency to lunge at any pair of arms that open for me
my mind and body often disagree
my body saying yes to eager hands
my mind saying no
constantly looking towards my heart
thinking how stupid one must be
to fall repeatedly
get hurt every single time
and still manage to do the same
over
and over
again
I wonder
how many times I will have to hit the ground
in order to learn to stop falling face first?
I often say things
that should be left unsaid
I often do things
that should not be done
sleep in beds unfamiliar
make believe love to strangers
get to know people who will not remember me tomorrow
I am gone as quickly as the hangover
I can be washed off the tongue
just as quickly as the liquor
I often believe I am capable of inciting change
I kiss temporary lips with permanence
hoping that I can train them to stay
I love temporary people with permanence
hoping that I can train them not to leave
and when they do
I claim to have seen it coming
I am incapable of forgetting
a scrapbook memory of skin and heartbeat
of touch and moments
I know not to look directly into eyes
for they can be blinding
and I still
do it anyway
I know of the risks that shouldn't be taken
well aware of their consequences
and I still
take them anyway
you could say
it is my own fault
for the way that things continue to turn out
but I can make no promise of apology
instead
I will live momentarily
**** up intentionally
love recklessly
fall unguarded
break enough times to learn how to put myself back together
crash into concrete enough times to learn how to shift a crooked smile
into something worth seeing
I have been told that a life lived in fear
is hardly a life lived at all
so I intend to live every second
like it is the last one I will have
I will write each night as it happens
narrate my own stories
and hope they turn out okay
I will regret this in the morning
but I will do it anyway.

You make me want to
Set fire to everything
More specifically anything
That has to do with you

You make me want to
Tear off every piece of my skin
And pull out all of my hair
Just to strangle you with it

Okay
Maybe that is
A little bit
Dramatic

But you drive me
Absolutely insane

You are a bus
That I would willingly
Throw myself in front of
Just to get your attention
Although you would most likely
Keep going
Without stopping

You are so skilled
At pretending not to notice me
Talented enough
To paint my skin invisible
The way you look right past me
Is truly an art form

I am well aware
That I am not the only girl
Who plays marionette
To your puppet master hands
But I am the only one
Who is content
With having them around
My neck

You make me want to
Sharpie all of your faults
On to your forehead
For the whole world to see

You make me want to
Stand on top of a cliff
And proclaim every single thing
That is wrong with you
For the whole world to hear

Calling you terrible,
Awful,
And cruel
Is easy

But if you were to call me
At 2 am
I would probably still give in

I would drop everything
Just to see you
For a moment

I would sacrifice my pride,
My dignity
Just to spend a night
With your body

You make me want to
Do a lot of things to you
In more ways than one

And that is exactly
What the problem is

I don't hate you
But you make me want to
You make me wish I did.

You are not in my bed
But you are still
In my sheets
I have tried to
Wash you out
By cleaning them
Repeatedly
But it just isn't
Working
There is not a
Laundry machine
In the world
That could rid you
From the fabric
Of where we used to lay
Together
Molded by the formation
Of our pressed bodies
Stained with sweat
Our ***,
A pathetic excuse
For intimacy
It was not love
But whatever it was
Is gone now
I have tried to
Erase you
From the pattern
Of the blanket
I sleep with
It is the only
Warmth I have left
We used to drift off
Wrapped up in
Each other's skin
Holding to shake
The fear from
Our bones
The inevitability
Of tomorrow
We were never
Made to last
You faded
Right before
My eyes
Everything your hands
Have ever touched
Of mine
Still has your prints
On it
The material
Can't let you go
And neither can I.

Little girl, little girl
Tell me of your soul
Tell me of your sorrows
at only 7 years old

I envy the skin that had never been burned
The feelings that had never been hurt
The games you're too young to play
your mind is still pure

But there are monsters
They're just like you and me
I remember when nightmares
were only in my dreams

Little girl, Little girl
I know of your soul
You remind me of my sorrows
At only 7 years old

So little girl if you're empty
Little girl if you're scared
Little girl don't be angry
It's a hard world out there

There are stories in your eyes.

I never told you how
sometimes I fell asleep
with the thought that you
were perhaps the moon-

always disappearing
with the dawn.