You said you would take care of me
and (I believed) your fairy dust lies
the wand was flicked upon me
I fell deep
I fell hard
I was paralysed by
(you)

but there was no ground below me
not one hint of the destination
(I) looked at you with one goal in mind
and then you pricked the parachute that (helped) me
float with
(you)

as it's oxygen reduced
(I still) blindly (relied on)
(you)

by the time it was gone
(I) reached underground
in a (lost) world
and now
here I am without
(you)

(I lay in) crooked paths
not sure of where the tears will lead to
drawing parallel lines on bandaged (wounds) and
still (thinking of)
(you)

i am hunted
                        and haunted
by memories -
            once good times turned sour.

                                                               ­ vines claw and grasp at my feet
                                                            ­ while i try in vain to trudge forward.

i am picasso with paintbrush poised betwixt my teeth-
                                                          ­                                                             arms bound
                                                                ­             by a straightjacket sewn from sorrow.

the lacrimose landscape of my limbic system is a scarred battleground.
fear and regret clash with my spirit and sanity like angry gods.
i fear i may be broken.

how many times have i apologized?
'til sandpaper throat
and crimson finger
from repentance and gripping pen?

                                              not enough.

the words are in my throat
and I am choking on the syllables.
what was once familiar is now
a crushing blow to an altered fate
and if it were up to me.
if it were up to me
Id climb to the moon and
we'd live inside that starry infinity.
but there's no oxygen in outer space
and there's no love on Earth.

He touches
My hair
All the time,
Plays with the
Edges and
Fragments,
And sometimes reminds me that
"I can braid,
You know."
Sometimes he does.

Sometimes he mimics me
In History class
From across the room,
And he laughs at all my jokes,
Even when they aren't funny,
Just
Stupid.

And occasionally,
When I'm sitting in my little niche
Between his desk
And Ellie's,
Right on the cold tile,
He'll attach his forehead to mine
And just look at me.
Sometimes he'll whisper,
"Nose,"
And point to it,
And I just giggle
And break the stare.

I don't even think he feels it,
The wishing to always be near him,
To have his fingers in my hair
All the time,
And for his laugh to be
My soundtrack.

I don't think
That when he stares into my eyes
He wants to kiss me
As bad
As I want
To kiss
Him.