She is breaking.
There's a void in her tracks
and no light ahead.
The conflict between love lust and love lost
is waging it's war on her fleshy shores.
She can't seem to choose a side,
it all looks the same.
"It's a trap" she chokes.

She is freezing.
Her frigid heart is icing over
and her brain is going numb.
A vicious cycle of meandering
through brackish monotony -
looking for a map -
leads to where it all began.
Repeat.
"Nothing changes" she sighs.

She is vanishing.
Whispered honesties go unheard
amidst the cacophony of cross talk
and empty words.
Her absence goes unnoticed
as a silvery ghost of her
robotically relives her daily deeds.
"Anchored in reality" silently.

She is caving.
Breaking down like glass in a relentless tide,
Little pieces of her
are left to join the countless sand.
She's finding there's no escape
from this earthly purgatory
for the damaged and ******.
"There has to be more than this."

I feel like I'm chasing
   The shadow
      of a whisper
            of a lost memory
of a thought
    of a forgotten dream
           of the faintest glimmer of hope

what if we took
a secret trip
some place far away,
the two of us.

who cares where we go?
i do not need
to get away from anything;
i just want
something

something with you that
both of us will remember;
something great --
that only we know about.

she was
beautiful and
affectionate,
zany and
hysterical.

her life
was a
tribute to
spontaneity
and
amusement;
to loving
the hell out
of everybody
and everything
because
life
is simply
too short
to squander.

she lived
with so much
electricity
that her
fervor was
infectious to
all those
close enough
to catch a
spark.

her death
was an
earthquake;
a shudder
ran through,
and we
were all
left,
devastated
and
confused.

it will be
two years
far too soon;
two years
since a
magnificent
light was
extinguished.

but her life
is a daily
reminder.
a reminder
to live,
to love,
to cry,
to explore,
to laugh,
to wonder,
to write,
to savor.

If you were the sky
Then I'd be the sea
And when you shined bright
It would reflect in me.
When you're at rest
Then I am steady.
If you wanna get rough
I'm always ready.
Past closing at the bars
If you show me the stars
I'll open right up
And cast them out far.
And on the darkest night
If you won't shine a light.
Then I'm silent alongside you
Until you feel right.
We'll meet at the horizon
Where lovers will stare
And wonder with passion
Why they can't meet there.
And you'll share me a kiss
As bright as two suns.
When they meet in the middle
I'll know the days done.
And I can tell that's your way of saying to me.
Goodnight my love.
If you were the sky and I were the sea.

Be yourself. Stand out and Shine
But this saying has became a crime
To shine is to beautiful on the inside out
Though some are too afraid to let it stand out
Bullying and hate is what we seem to anticipate
Yet love and compliments is what we downgrade
We have trouble accepting what is a flawless mistake
and put our very own lives at stake.

Standing Out shows too much personality
Love is love no matter the gender, race, or nationality
We judge the things we are ignorant about
Everyone is human. Everyone is God's creation, yet we still doubt.

Not the unhappy everyone talks about.
Not just the lonely unhappy.
Not just the unaccomplished/unmotivated unhappy.
Not just the loveless unhappy.
Not just the careless unhappy.
Not just the “let down” unhappy.

I wish there was a way to better exert the meaning of what I’m feeling.
It’s the unhappy that makes me ***** before each occasion.
It’s the unhappy that makes me want to sink into the walls.
I want to break glass, break bone, break the unbreakable.

I want to rip and scratch.
Skin, lips, paper.

It’s like a downward spin that sometimes leaves me pleased…
and other times incredibly hollowed.
There aren’t any solid memories that explain why I’ve gotten so sad.
I do remember when it started though, or at least when I was old enough to understand it was not a good feeling.

Five.

Five years old.
Sitting alone in the heater room where my “tea table” was set up.
Tweety bird tea set.

I remember thinking about grown-ups and all that they do.
I remember not wanting to be a child anymore.
I’d get mad when someone interrupted my thoughts.
That was the first time I remember being depressed.

I’ve been depressed since,
but depression is a very small part of unhappiness…
or whatever it is that’s been sloshing around in my gut since age five.

All I know is that it escalates.
It always has and now I’m very afraid that it always will.