You talk of killing yourself as one would of getting a glass of water:
normally,
casually.

You are sarcastic, and in this, too, there is sarcasm, but it's undertone is real. Honest.

So of course, you scare me.

It does not take long before you ask the question I dread:
Would you miss me if I were dead?

Because I want to know what the hell kind of question that is.

Stupid question, heartless question, yes I'd miss you if you were dead.

Stupid, because we're friends, because I know you, because I like you.

Heartless, because do you really think I care for you so little that I'd wish you away?

Nothing matters now, though.
It's been asked,
It's been answered.

So long as you do me a favor.
Just one - no more, no less.

And don't discount this, the way you always do,
saying everybody dies, not everybody dies by choice.

Stay alive, will you?
For as long as you possibly can?

Who am I to dictate, what you can and cannot do.
Who am I to force you, to live in a world you cannot stand.

But for me, for the others, for everyone who says we'll miss you, please,

*Hold out as long as you can stand.

Dear Someone,
You wouldn't understand me
if i told you
i'd rather sit in the company of myself
and
i'd rather sit with ourselves than myself
at the same time.
You wouldn't  understand me
if i told you
why i avoided the school cafeteria
(i never had anyone to talk to)
why i always have a book open even when i'm not reading
(note to self: when alone appear as if you're too preoccupied to speak to anyone)
why i don't go to parties
(because won't my alone-ness, with-no-one-ness, loner-ness be more obvious?)
You wouldn't understand me
if i told you
i wish i didn't know what feeling alone in a crowd was
and i wish I didn't feel so distant, so not-part-of-anything
and i wish i was somebody
and i wish i knew why I always take that back.
You wouldn't understand me.
You're someone, after all.
From,
A No one who's trying to stay a No One and become a Someone at the same time

I'm not a good man. I promise.
I'm a guy who ****** himself out and usually wears some sort of mask to keep people from getting too close.
I've hurt everyone I've had love for. Family. Friends. The only two women I've ever loved. I'm not a good person.
Yet, in my brokenness, God sees me like a jigsaw puzzle.
God still loves me the same, and His mercies are new everyday. And because of His great, lavishing, ravishing, grace, I love you all.

Maybe you're someone in love with a man in a commitment, and you're having an affair.
And you don't know how to feel about it.
And your family hates you
Well, God loves you, and I love you.

Or perhaps you're a girl who has lost her only friends
And you've cut for the twentieth time, today.
God loves you, and I love you.

You're the woman struggling to keep a twelve year relationship alive, with six kids to care for and you're haunted by the past, and the fear he won't forgive you.
God loves you, and I love you

You're out with your friends and you're shooting ****** and taking crystal ****. You hate your father, and you're suicidal.
God loves you, and I love you.

You're a gifted poet who's struggled with ****** addiction to the point you have a church fan handy at all times.
And you've lost that one dear person.
God loves you, and I love you.

You're a woman still in love with a man who hurt you so badly from across the country, you've never even met.
And you struggle through your depression everyday.
God loves you, and I love you.

You're a poet who struggles with the demons in your head and the illness in your mind. Broken by the loss of friends and the hurt in your heart.
Cutie, God loves you, and I love you

Or you're a woman still in love with a lost person, and the only way you can still have hope is to write poems on here.
God loves you, and I love you

Maybe you're the overweight, socially awkward girl that your father is disappointed in. And you've been hurt by every boyfriend you've ever had and now you don't trust or get too close.
God loves you, and I love you.

You're trying day by day not to cut and scar yourself.
Remembering the promise that you made and hating that you made it.
God loves you, and I love you

You're the girl with that huge list of problems.
You have that terrible foster family, and you've spent 15 months in therapy.
God loves you, and I love you.

Or you're this amazingly bubbly teen
That really, I've never seen you sad
And you want to see the world
God love you, and I love you.

Or you're the girl with no arms.
Who doesn't know what it's like to hold a hand.
Or pet an animal. Or know your mother.
God loves you, and I love you.

You're the man who fought in the opening moves of Iraq.
You faced the horrors of war. And you lost your wife in '07.
God loves you, and I love you

You're the *** addict all alone.
Your boyfriend never really cared for you.
You're tired of fighting life, and you hope the cancer takes you out.
God loves you, and I love you.

And maybe you're the unknown person.
Forgotten by everyone.
You're a nobody. You're alone.
And you find this:
God loves you, and I love you.

Zephaniah 3:17New International Version (NIV)

17 The Lord your God is with you,
the Mighty Warrior who saves.
He will take great delight in you;
in his love he will no longer rebuke you,
but will rejoice over you with singing.”

Sometimes
i feel as if
my thoughts
eat me
alive,
as if
they are tearing
apart
grey matter,
popping
brain cells
like pills,
getting high
off me
and the nights
i can't sleep
and the nights
i lie awake
and the nights
i am alone
and the nights
i am too quiet
as my
thoughts
throw extravagant parties
behind my forehead
and invite all their friends,
who bring their friends
and their friends
until my head
is a head
of raging thoughts
that dontcantwont sleep
so that
i dontcantwont sleep.
They keep
knocking, banging my skull with their fists
they keep
pounding, bashing my head with their screams
they keep
my eyes open
so that i can watch the floorboards creaking
so that i can hear the shadows pirouetting off my wall
so that i can smell the rustling in the darkness
as if i am the one ecstatically covering myself in angel dust
and not my thoughts
as if i am the one speedballing too fast, too fast, slow down
and not my thoughts
as if i am the one flying, crashing, idontknow, too fast, too fast, slow down
and not my thoughts.
They won't let me sleep
Just let me sleep
let me sleep
and you can
tear apart
all the gray matter
you want
and you can
pop
my brain cells
like pills
but
just
let me sleep
let me sleep
Just let me sleep

please.

You don't need to cry, I'll hold you in my arms
Your tears needn't flow, a heart broken mends
I won't leave you alone this night, my dear
Find comfort in me, and my care for you
Tremble not in your skin, be in my embrace
Stay in the safety of this bed with me
Feel my heat and rest in my arms
Sweet dreams to you
And goodnight

Relei ingat. Baju hangat kuning kecoklatan, 4 kerutan di tangan kanan dekat siku dan 5 lainnya di dekat bahu kiri. Rok kotak-kotak selutut yang untung dan sayangnya tak pernah terisngkap sedikit pun angin berkata tiup. Adalah pakaian yang melekat di badan Malia kali mereka bertemu tatap.
Udara dingin malam Sabtu sama sekali tidak membuat para pujangga mengurungkan niatnya untuk berteriak kata cinta. Atau cerita patah hati. Mungkin iya di tempat lain, tapi tidak di sini, di 8th Avenue, sebuah ruangan tak terpakai beberapa tahun lalu yang di percantik jadi sebuah tempat pertemuan para penyair dari berbagai penghujung kota. Dengan satu podium kecil –sekitar setinggi 1 meter dan selebar tiga dada- di sebelah barat, membelakangi dinding yang berwarna merah marun sedangkan tiga dinding lainnya adalah batu bata yang tidak dipoles.
Malam itu Relei seperti malam Sabtu lainnya, berjalan dari kamar loft ke tempat favoritnya, menyusuri 6 blok dalam suhu 21 derajat dengan tentu pakaian hangat.
Semua wajah yang berpapasan, tak ada satupun yang Relei lupa. Ada 13 wanita, 8 diantaranya bermata coklat, dan 6 pria, satu diantaranya memegang setangkai bunga mawar, yang sudah bertatap sapa selama perjalanannya menuju 8th Ave. 8 bunyi klakson mobil dan 4 suara orang bersin yang selalu di balasnya dengan “semoga tuhan memberkati”. Tidak, Relei tidak selalu menghitung seperti ini dalam sehari-harinya. Hanya saja Relei selalu ingat.
“ Lalu bulan masih saja datang, pun tak sepertimu, yang malam ke malam, masih saja semakin semu.” Seorang wanita paruh baya sedang membacakan barisan terakhirnya di atas podium dengan parau sangat menghayati. Penyair lain yang ada di ruangan itu menjentikkan jari mereka terkagum, ada juga yang bersorak kata-kata manis. Kode etis dalam pembacaan puisi di 8th ave adalah : tidak perlu bertepuk tangan terlalu kencang untuk berkata bahwa kau kagum akan satu puisi, cukup dua jari saja.
“ Biarkan aku datang ke mimpi buruk mu, lalu mimpi indah mu, lalu mimpi mu yang kau bahkan tak tahu tentang apa, atau pun mengapa,” Selanjutnya adalah giliran seorang perempuan muda yang naik ke panggung. Ia bercerita tentang buah mimpi, bahwa Ia ingin menjadi fantasi yang dibawa kemanapun sang pemimpi berjalan.
Baju hangat kuning kecoklatan, 4 kerutan di tangan kanan dekat siku dan 5 lainnya di dekat bahu kiri. Malia –atau seperti itulah tadi perempuan itu memperkenalkan dirinya sebelum memulai puisi- menyisir rambutnya kebelakang kuping sebanyak 3 kali sepanjang ia membacakan puisinya. Ia bergeliat di boots hitamnya, entah karena grogi atau tidak nyaman. Malia berambut coklat ikal sepinggang, dan memiliki bulu mata yang lentik bahkan dilihat dari ujung ruangan.
“ Untukmu, yang bersandar ke bata merah dengan tangan memegang kerah.” Malia mengakhiri puisinya sambal menatap ke arah Relei. Tangan Relei yang sedang membenarkan kerah baju otomatis langsung membeku. Ia sadar penyair lain sedang mengalihkan semua perhatian mereka kepadanya. Tapi hey, ayolah, pasti bukan, gadis di atas podium itu pasti bukan sedang membicarakan tentang Relei. Gadis yang sekarang sedang menuruni tangga podium dan berjalan ke arahnya itu pasti bukan sedang- Oh tuhan, atau mungkin memang iya.

For once i wish i could just hold you and forget this world.
I want to look into your eyes and tell you everything.
I long to hear your heart as i lean on your chest.
But i cant, because i dont know where you are, or how to reach you.
Time told me to wait, but i cant, i need to get on with this life of mine.
So i ask, come find me, use all your efforts to be here with me.
Dont give up on me, even when you think i have.
Im not sure how long i can bare it without you.