Fresh blankets of snow turned to slush
Handsome white into gloomy grey
Temperatures rising with rainfall
As Mother Nature grows with the grass
From a girl to fully grown
Blossomed like the emerald leaves in endless heat
And she thinks,
Things can’t stay alive forever.
Expensive trees serve as her apologies
And as the fee for the temperature decrease
Leafy angels crunch beneath feet
Soon replaced by rocks of salt in the street
And Mother Nature rests
After a sly confession
That she plans to do it again.

One call,
I need to last one call without her.
One call without her screaming,
Incessant pleading,
That I’m better by myself.
I bury her deep, distracting her with nonsense about how
They probably won’t pick up anyway,
It won’t work anyway,
It’s hopeless anyway,
While dialing each number as fast as I can,
Before she comprehends what each number means
Each digit like a deep breath I couldn’t take before,
As I countdown the seconds until my freedom.
She looms closer and closer to the surface in the space between each dialing tone,
Itching at my fingertips to end the call once and for all.
When a voice replaces the silence,
She freezes,
Out of reasons to continue.
The voice on the other end cannot hear my triumphant smile,
only my stutter, as I begin to speak,
Every syllable another benchmark towards victory.

When I hang up the phone, it is not because she told me so.
It is because I won the battle I fought for so long.

Sedate me
Medicate me
Feed me pills until you break me

At some point the spinning has to cease
But when it does, who will I be?
When the constant shaking of my leg stops,
Will I be shoved into your box?
Do I exist outside of my habits,
Or does my identity require I have it?
Is there anything left that’s special about me
When I give in to treatment?

I remember useless things
Like how your hand fit in mine
Good to know at the time
But reduced
To uselessness now that you’re gone.

I remember useless things
Like our very first date
How right after we ate
We sat in the parking lot
Laughing a lot
At something you said that I can’t quite recall.

I remember useless things
That hurt to think back to
Like how you used to kiss me,
That you used to miss me
When you used to miss me
Yeah, you used to miss me
Unbelievable now
Just like it was at the time.

I remember useless things
That I wish I could forget
Wish I could forget that you cared
That you were ever even there
Because you really weren’t there
No, you were never there
And there’s something about that that stings
But I forget why.

I remember useless things.
And forget all the rest.
The things that don’t matter
Lay heavy in my chest
And I can’t forget.
Because I only remember useless things.

I met a man today
He looked me up and down and said
“Well aren’t you the finest little lady I’ve seen?”
I smiled and laughed, as forced as it was,
But quickly continued on my way, because—
He must have been crazy, seeing things maybe—
From my sweats to my ugly, can’t he see I value safety?

Sometimes things look better blurry
At least that’s what my mirror told me
When I took my glasses off today.
Sometimes things look better fuzzy
Like right after crying, eyes puffy
Because you didn’t really mean it anyway.
sometimes things look better hazy
The truth becomes a little less weighty
And easier to escape.

Your brain buzzes around sunflowers and in West Virginian clouds,
Around strings of old guitars and strings of shrimp flavored ramen,
Around calling me pretty and asking me to dance when we’ve just met,
Around your dog and your home and your friends that you love oh so much,
And it mesmerizes me because
I’ve never loved the way someone talks about themselves as much as when you do.

I think sometimes I miss you.
Rarely, on occasion, because
It’s hard to admit,
But once in a while I miss you a little bit of a whole lot.
When I hear your name in conversation it’s easy to brush off
But harder to bury when I’m alone.
Sometimes I’m prepared to miss you.
But I can’t.
For some reason the timing’s not right,
I can’t will myself to cry,
So I choke it down and switch to internal bleeding for a while.
When I’m ready, I miss you.
When I’m not, I miss missing you.

She wanted to love her
but didn’t know how.
The static in her head was too loud:
crowded commotion that could crack open her cranium countless times.
Then the clocks start counting
unconsciously unnoticed
no one can tell:
not her, not her.
The warning there but under the radar,
Simple to see and quickly discard,
Unexplored feelings left burned, charred
Piles on piles of invisible scars.
After her head has had enough--
Almost as if it was obvious--
The clocks turn carnivorous,
and break down the barriers she bound around them,
destroying her defenses and leaving her defenseless as they detonate the little love she keeps for herself.
Then, there’s nothing left.

I can't stand it.
So I sit.
But then the chair begins to itch,
so I stand again, take a step
which feels forward but is in fact
                                                    b
                                              a
                                       c
                               k
                       w
               a
        r
d
but I continue
carefully tiptoeing along
carelessly creating everything wrong
and then the thing I can no longer stand for
is no longer the thing it was before
and all that's left is me
defeated by my own feet
who kept carrying me forward, backward
looking at the footprints, are they forward or backward?
Easy to explain from either side,
harder to claim only from mine.
Guess we'll never really know
cause now I'm sitting right back down
which is just another way of saying:
does it even matter now?

If we were a symphony,
Bach or Tchaikovsky
would have so much trouble
writing you and me.
Obscurity and dissonances,
memories of resonances,
held together by half cadences--
for we know a perfect cadence ends,
and our piece isn't finished yet.
Appoggiaturas to the next beat,
steps and skips short and sweet.
No need to hold fermatas long
we've got more time and more of a song.

pity drips like warm syrup
reluctant— almost,
sweet to sender,
onto unwelcoming pancakes
flat, absorbing all they can
always leaving extra around
(they can’t possibly hold all there is to offer.)

"It's harmless water vapor"; sure.
"It won't happen to me"; you know that's a ******* lie.
"I don't do it often"; we'll see how long that lasts.
I can't wait until the feeling of clouds of water vapor pouring over your lips makes you happier than I can.

selfless until I want you to be
always thinking of me
until you realize you can be selfish by slowly killing yourself
"nicotine is nicotine is nicotine" :
words from my own mother
holding me to a standard she won't follow.

forcing myself through
poetry as my glue
holding onto you
but you’re in my way.
Move.

did you ever believe me?
when I told you I cared?
did you ever realize?
how much I was scared?
of losing you, of never having you

did you ever love me?
in the way I loved you?
did you ever mean it?
when you said “of course I do”?
think I lost you— or never even had you

did you ever care?
or were you too selfish?
were you ever scared?
or even jealous?
you knew you’d never lose me; you always had me.
hypnotized.

It’ll get worse before
It gets worse
Once more

Pretend
Like everything’s the same
Pretend
I’m not going insane
Pretend
This Sunday’s just another day
Pretend
I won’t be crying your name
Pretend
I never had a dad
Pretend
Because then it won’t hurt so bad
Pretend
I haven’t bought presents in the past
Pretend
Cause Father’s Day isn’t supposed to be sad.

Thought we were on the same schedule
I guess your watch was a little ahead of mine
Overwise you wouldn’t have left so early.

You know you’re life is bad when you win the competition.
“Sorry, I was just busy because I had the flu last week. Ugh, my luck has just been so bad lately!”
“Yeah, I’ve been busy too. My dad died in January, my mom totaled her car in April, we got our emails hacked in May, and I actually had the flu over spring break too.”
And in the silence, there is pity.

Hey dad.
I love you 3000.
But you’ll never get the reference.

Overdramatic
Overshown
Can’t donate or share
Something I own

Overused
Overdiagnosed
But I know I have it
Looms over; my personal ghost

Overrated
Oversimplified
Not “feeling worried”,
Feeling like you’ll die

Overemotional
Oversensative
People complain
Even when I’ve got a sedative

Understand it’s not an
Understatement
When I say
Anxiety’s complicated.

****; missed the deadline
The spot in your heart’s been filled.
I’ll be alright...right?

Got an email from someone I thought I knew
Curious to know what we were up to
Clicked on the link, but it was just a ploy
To hack into my life and use me as a toy.

Broke into the hardware in my head,
Consumed my credit cards, ushered me into debt
Hacked into and manipulated all I felt
Controlled and restricted the hand I was dealt.

Even with my new passwords and new email
The scar of the hacker will never fully heal.
Blamed it on them being the stone cold *****,
But I’m the one who let them hack with a single click.

Running her fingers through my hair
I hug her with my arms wide
Even when I cry
My tears— they dry
So easy for her to blow my thoughts around
I’m so used to the cold
That I’ll roll my windows down in any weather
To meet her again

my sister's room is a time machine.
I walk in and she has decorated her walls with the memory of our father
her desks covered in the confetti of his life
her jewelry all gifts from him
she wears three necklaces at once because he gave them all to her
her phone case has a picture of him and her
I walked in on her once sitting on the carpet
a picture, a box of ashes, and something silly her gave her all laying in front of her
in her hands was one of the necklaces, and her thumb vigorously rubbed it like a lamp
begging for a wish
a wish she had planned:
bring him back.
my sister's room is a time machine.
she harbors his spirit in her room
because it doesn't live anywhere else.

namelessly, I am a lighter.
used to ignite, and then ignored.
namelessly, I am a writer.
picking up a pen whenever I’m bored.
namelessly, I am a heater.
warming those around me in their darkest hour.
namelessly, I don’t work well either:
and sooner or later I’ll run out of power.

hey, you.
this is new.
i should've expected this, right?
as soon as anyone says they're bi
i suddenly assume i have a chance
but under no circumstance
is that actually true.
...but it could be with you.

The girl in the mirror likes to scream at me.
She shouts:
"Your acne is gross!"
"Your muffin top needs to go!"
"Your ***** are too small!"
"God, look at your nose!"
in my old mirror, I could hear her.
but now the glass is thicker.
I like to smirk back at her appalled expression
and say:
"yell all you want: I'm not listening."

I internally write down my love, compassion and such
stuff it all into a bottle, and unknowingly push in the cork— no, shove
Later, it washes up on a beach but without the message I put in
but rather angry words, scarring words I had always meant to keep in
The words reach everyone that was never intended to hear them
In fact, I never even intended to breath them
But now that all my anger has been expressed
Saltwater tears are all that’s left.

what’s the ******* point
one day you could be perfectly content
the next everything could be ripped away
if everything is going to go to **** anyway
if you know your happiness won’t last
why does it even matter.

It’s NOT FAIR.
YOU get to have one.
Someone who watches football games with you
And tells you you’re his baby girl
And retells the story of when you were born
And watches movies with you
And who you can tell things to that no one else will understand.
You get to have a father.
I don’t.
It’s.
Not.
Fair.

If you find yourself wanting a sign
So you don’t go on by yourself
Don’t you think that wanting a sign
is proof that you should within itself?

Happy birthday to you
Did you know we love you
We miss you, dear father,
And we hope you do too.

Live it up in heaven
You should visit us again
We think about you always,
And we hope you do too.

my socialization meter is down to zero
I’d be happier if I was the only one
but no one else thinks that two.

they’re right when they say a crowd is three.
but what am I asking four?
loneliness instead of a high five?

haven’t been this antisocial since age six.
I’m supposed to be there by seven
but it’s still the morning; maybe eight.

I might be over it a little by nine,
but I’ll never feel like a full ten.

Like glass,
I can shatter.
Quickly, draw
the shutters.
I know you
can see through
and it’s fun
to take in the view;
Watch me crumple
under stress
but it’s best
if the curtain covers
while the window cracks
because
there’s no going back
once you’re struck
by the broken shards
of glass.

maybe you needed a guardian angel
and that’s where he is now.

You took my soul with you when you left
You had lost yours so you borrowed mine
apparently.
Now I’m just an empty shell
The sweet nut taken out and treasured
And the crackled shell left to disintegrate.
My body decomposing,
I walk around becoming a zombie,
filled to the brim with anxieties and lost hope
lost hope for a future with you
because there was so much more we were supposed to do
but of course you took your heart and soul with you when you left this earth,
and decided to take mine too.

If time heals all wounds,
why does each day without you
hurt worse than the last?

Cheesecake only strawberry
Ice cream never sugar free
Candy canes growing on trees
A sweet tooth with endless reprise
We will celebrate your life now as you did each day,
Taking each difficult moment with a pinch of a sweet memory
to make it easier to swallow.
Your glistening smile will be thought of in sorrow,
but also in sugary rememberance of how sweet you were.

There is a place
Where a man resides
Early to everything
Because early is on time
He may have left soon
But he’s waiting at the gate
At the front of the line
Because on time is late

The gates swing open
And he is admitted
They let him in because
They knew all he did

His passion unmatched,
Rivaled by everyone
He stood up for what he wanted
Never backed down for anyone

He had much pride
For his wife and two daughters
A triathlete, an artist,
And a student with honors

He never ceased to give
Back to his community
Would help a neighbor out
At literally any opportunity

Talk about the funniest guy
You’ve ever met—
I keep thinking the jokes
Can’t get better, yet
In my head he’ll walk right through that door, do his victory dance, laughing, rolling on the floor.
And I know he won’t, but if you think that the last you’ve seen of him was on January 9th, 2019 at 6:18pm then you are sadly mistaken.
If you think he’s done with all of you then you underestimate him.
Because he will be there through thick and thin,
To see all of us lose and win,
To see us fall but still keep kicking.
My father was an orderly man who enjoyed having a schedule and this little set back did not set him back at all.
His New Years resolution was to spend more time with his family and he plans to do just that with all this time on his hands.

There is a place
Where a man resides
Ready to listen to
All our goodbyes
But his trick is
He’s got plans to drop by
Early to the gate
So he’ll be on time.

I hate past tense.
It means that it’s already happened, it’s done, and most of the time it won’t happen again.
Most of all I hate that I’m going to have to learn how to use past tense to describe you.
You deserve to be in present tense.
You deserve to be funny, to be smart, to be passionate.
Instead,
You were funny, you were smart, you were passionate.
So I’m going to keep using present tense to describe the things you did until I can come to terms with past tense.
I do know one thing, though:
You never past-tense ‘loved’ me,
You present-tense ‘love’ me.
And that will never change.

I’m a broken record
Saying the same “my life just *****” over and over again
Without bothering to change the record
because the record player lies just out of my reach
Fingertips grazing
Yet they can’t wrap around the edges to draw it nearer
Even if I managed to get a hold on it
Finding another record is a whole other problem.

How can you feel so much loss for something you never had in the first place

Thought you were telling me what you really felt; turns out you were saving face

New year
Fresh start
New someone
To break my heart

New plans
To make
New dreams
That will break

New me
Getting better
New you
By a greater measure

New way
To miss you
New way
To wish you knew

Same wishes
That you were there
Same realization
That you don’t care

Holes in my ears? 8.
But including the ones in my heart?
Or my soul?
Or my head?
Too many to count.

I punch holes in my ears
To mask the pain of the holes in my heart
That she created when she left.

hopeless romanticism
is an endless pit
of effortless falling
but reckless hypnotism

Waking up with a hangover is said to be one of the worst feelings in the world.
But waking up with a broken heart from the night before is much worse.
Drinking a warm cup of black coffee does not get rid of heartache like it does a headache.

You say you’re over me
But the number of times you check my Instagram say otherwise

You say you don’t think of me
But all you’ve written has us forever memorized

You say you don’t care anymore
But your mind still wonders if I’m doing better without you

You say you don’t want me back
But to get me back, you’ve planned what you could do.