I don't know.
I'm sad
and I'm mad
about being so sad.
Because I know life isn't so bad,
and I'm trying to add
more of the happiness I've previously had
and I'm so dang glad
I mean, I can see the blessings I have.
But no matter how bad
I want to not be sad
or how hard I try...
I still sit here with tears in my eyes
and I'll tell you "I'm fine."
And you know it's a lie;
I'm holding on for dear life.
I am tired
and the fire
in my eyes?
Along with my cloudy heart,
and the cloudy skies;
those flames
are dimming
going out with the city lights
in the middle of the night
Like if I just hide
and take some time
to get things right
The despair will somehow
dissapear from my mind.
Maybe if I try
being kind
to myself
...and my heart and my mind
I will be fine
sometime.

faces like yours aren't meant for touching
and i'm beginning to think that closed-casket funerals were created for you
and sometimes the overwhelming desire to share something of yourself with someone--with anyone--is too much to bear

and suddenly i understand every spraypainted feeling under every freeway
or sharpie sentences scribbled in bathroom stalls
or muttered comments or notes in library books or songs on repeat played a little too loud
and i understand why pretty girls write stories on their arms

you were never the type to tell the truth
you were always talking
you never understood the way i looked at my feet when you laughed or how i spoke in hushed tones


some days are better than yesterday and some days make me question tomorrow
some words make me question you

today i wonder what the bigger sin is

is it your lying?
or my hopeless belief in words i know aren't true?

words are meant to be spoken and hands are meant to be held and love and sorrow and anger are meant to be felt and enjoyed and EXPERIENCED
and everything has meaning
everything but you

i don't believe in silence. sometimes my mind won't shut up and when it will, something else won't. i don't believe in nothing. you can't think about nothing and you can't do nothing and you can't want nothing. those are lies our minds tell us when they run out of sensible things to say. i don't believe in forgetting. memories are more than chalk drawings on sidewalk. they don't wash away when the weather changes. you can scrub and scrub until your fingers bleed and you will still see his face every time you blink. i believe in noise. i believe in thoughts so loud that your high school history teacher asks about them. i believe in thoughts so intruding that you begin to question if they're coming from someone else. i believe in something. i believe in liars claiming otherwise. i believe in something so strong that you're scared to admit its existence. i believe in remembering. i believe in tattooing your favorite moments onto your heart in clashing colors and obnoxious patterns so that every passerby can imagine them with you. i believe in holding on to your favorite days so ferociously that God himself couldn't pry them from you.

Can I just say
***** you for alwasy leaving me
to question things?
To wonder what the heck will come of you and me?
What in Hell
made you think it was okay
to treat me like I was just a game
a fragile heart created for your play?

***** you
for leaving me blaming myself
***** you
for leaving me to worsen my own health.

And I know it's unfair for me to blame you.
You were young too
and I know you didn't know what on earth to do
about the days that my heart was soaking more in black than blue.

But I think that it was you
that handed me the dye.
You brought back the hate
and allowed me paint
the black abyss
in which
I sunk deeper
with all your lies.

And you try to come back
just when I've creawled out
like a slap
to the face,
a silent shout
into the void,
the abyss, a vaccuum
muting all noise.

And thank goodness for that.
the silence
because you can't take back
all of your lies
and I can't take
any more of your bull