Building up ever so much,
not waiting for me to come back.
Home, what even does that mean?
I have nowhere that feels like home.

I look at you staring out the window
observing the sunset
taking in all the streaks of yellow, orange, and pink.
You never liked pink as a kid
I suppose we've moved past childish preferences.

Step into my life—
Rip me away with you,
Into bits you shape,
Until I’m wholly yours..

Make me wholly yours so that I won't live without you
As you'll forever be a part of me.

The poetic mind is forever troubled with questions but no answers,
Perhaps that's what draws us together
The constant unfulfillment with life as it is.

Are you looking, or just seeing
through mirrors, through windows?
Are you able to see through it all
Or are you too stuck in your head—

like me,
tracing outlines of thoughts
I’ll never say aloud.
Maybe silence is safer
than risking a world
that doesn’t echo back.

If I whispered my truth into the dusk,
Would you turn your head and listen tentatively
or shut me out like the wind.

Listen, world—
I have a voice that can shake you.
Listen here,
Do you not know my language

Or will you pretend you don’t speak
The dialect of my ache?

I grieve like it was a death,
But no one sends flowers
It slipped out quietly,
no funeral,
just echoes
where laughter used to live.

Who have I become?
a mosaic of all the people that I've ever met
filled with the sadness of my shadows.
I don’t know your face
When I pass mirrors now—

You look at me like you know me
I wonder what you recognize my soul has changed
My soul has warped into something bitter and rotten
longing for tending to
like a flower that wilts away after neglect.

If only I could reach
beyond the cracks in my skin...
...But I cannot reach
beyond the glass between us—
where my reflection waits,
And I am always just out of reach.