I learnt what 17 meant: recklessness, glassy eyes and a firestorm in someone else's chest.

19: a smile carelessly left in the crook of my neck, an hour shy of a sunrise and a firestorm in my chest.

There's a few too many years on these old bones
Where my soul calls itself at home
As the lights are dimming inside of these eyes
Pulling the shades down on this house's life

With the shingles thinning on top of my head
What used to be dark is now more gray instead
With the bottom floor being aching feet
As this foundation struggles to steady me

Not to mention the pressure on these old pipes
To keep my hearts furnace burning both day and night
Which keeps the heat at a steady flow
Little wonder my hands and feet are always so cold

With my siding sagging more than it should
I'd pay for home improvements if it'd do any good
But in the meantime I'll stay bundled inside
This old house that I call my life

There is an edge.
To me.
Where the lines meet the air, where I am a juxtaposition between the earth and the sky.
Where I am black or white,
Never grey.
There is an edge,
Folded in half, into quarters, into eighths,
Into infinity edges are folded
To fit, to puzzle, to contain
A box, a boat, a decision.
There is an edge,
There is the stopping point,
There is a long way down,
A line I cannot cross
A place I have dared to venture,
And died a thousand times.
There is an edge,
And here I sit on the precipice,
Here I contemplate the fall,
Contemplate the sky holding the air,
Sharp to the tongue, and whipped into the ears
Here is the edge
Where the mind and the heart,
Do not cross,
Multiple edges, of juxtaposition,
Of falling, of dying, of breaking,
Between the earth and the sky,
The black and the white,
The heart and the break.....
There is an edge,
Where I sit and contemplate,
The line between life and death,
The edge between safety and chaos,
Between fear and bliss.
There is an edge,
to me,
Where my edges met yours,
Where lines were crossed,
Where bliss met fear,
Where the edges of my heart,
Thawed,
Where my edges met yours,
Between the earth and the sky.
And I'm here on this edge,
And in tears I wonder why.

I sat
Across from the face of death,
He wasn't smiling,
He was tired and,
Frustrated.
His skin shone a pallor of crying,
And exhaustion,
And the irises of his eyes,
Held fear,
And trauma.
"Why?" He asked.
"I am not here, I replied.
I have tried, I have, tried so hard
I am not of this life,
I am not broken, but I am not fixed,
And I am ashamed to say,
Love is not real."
He took my hand, I could see
The bones of his fingers
Take mine.
He held up my fingernails,
Peering at the blood and the blisters,
And gently set them down.
His eyes took in my face,
An actors delight,
Some would say.
I could see he was confused,
I was not scared.
But then he stared in my soul,
And sighed.
I never once looked away,
But his eyes found it hard to find me
And his voice cracked, dry and weak,
"Wise choices come from hard decisions,
Strong people are made by tough experiences,
But,
I have seen more broken wings than I have bones,
More fallen tears than fallen leaves,
(Can I tell you about the leaves?)
More storms than calm seas,
(can I tell you about those sailors?)
And now I see you, more death than life.
I see black holes where there should be stars in your eyes,
No-one is born to survive hell alive,
And no-one is to die to feel free."
I sat uncomfortably, ashamed.
"No don't" he said.
"Many more than you die without warning,
This is your why."
"There is more," I replied,
"But I cannot give you more,
It's wasteful;
I do not hope on wishes hanging from stars,
I learnt that,
A long time ago,
That this hurts too much,
To much for me, anyways.
Existence is pain...
Who said that again?"
He then turned his head to the side,
He returned his hands
To his body.
"To die is not a negotiation,
Or resignation,
But it is a destiny,
What is yours?
Is now your destiny?  
I have seen too much,
And only those who sit with me,
Know they have to answer
That question."
"The only question I ponder,"
I replied,
"How many people will be at my funeral?"
He smiled and turned back to me,
"Then you already know,
What you need to do
Do not be jealous of the dying,
They have so much to live for,
It's the living who have to think,
Shall I see what happens?"
So I sat with death,
And I closed my eyes