i promise i can speak
but the way your lips
turn up into a perfect shape
seek to prove me otherwise

its not the way you love me
or how much better i am because of you
but the wonderful picture we would paint
if you did--
and you could,

if you'd only trust me,
my truest, because i've never
wished more that i weren't
a twig of Violet,

but a tall Plumeria
with a strong stem
that weakens only for you

I follow a lonely procession to my car, shoulders stiff as I can manage
Tunnel vision focused on the safety of my vehicle
Passing the people who still breathe easy, passing a few in silent accordance with my anguish
Almost to my shelter when I'm stopped mid tromp before my haven
Someone yelled something, cutting a new scar into my now unfeeling flesh.
I tread quicker, flustered and incredulous, as I can feel any sort of thing, wondering,
"Have they no respect for the dead?"

I wrote this for all the girls who have recently committed suicide due to excessive bullying. They don't realize they're trying to **** someone who's already dead.

i tried to lay our kisses to rest today
but when i covered them with dirt
and looked to see that they were away
i realized nothing disappears
that never existed
and the fantasy proves to be
as ephemeral as you let me believe you

and this is how it goes
following the "almosts" of my life
that stripped of my optimism
were never in the cards
and my naivety hides
reality that knocks on my door

a trait hard to shake
or snap out of when you feel
so strongly for someone
and want only for them
to pat down the pit you dug
and reassure you it need not re-open