I am a timeline of everything I've ever known.
It's copied onto thirty-five pieces of blank paper
and revealed to you in that mundane history course
that everyone naps through.

I can't deny
that among the black waves,
I've seen a sea star or two.
But I seem to be devoutly colorblind
to the silver linings that outline
what I've gone through.

You can't disguise your drowning,
nor can you swim to shore.
You just have to hope
that no one knows what to look for.

We all have a purpose or two-
I just came without the instructions.
Mine is a flawed foundation-
an accidental procreation.
Listen-
I can't feel,
but that doesn't quell the urge
to touch every single inch of you.
It doesn't matter if her name sounds like yours,
her eyes have a different sparkle,
and you don't make me feel like ****.
So let me dance you into the dawn
and tie your noose for you.
It's either me or the chair,
because I'll never be there.
I don't know if this is too much to ask.
"We all deserve love,"
but what if that's not true?
The burning burden I ignite.
There's an empty cavity in my chest
and your heart can't fill it.
I'll keep climbing the pit
until I let go.
I'll keep letting go
until you reach for me.

Today I feel sad,
Not convinced about this life.
Such a strange, strange world.