tell me, boy,
when did you begin to notice
the Stars falling from my eyes?
you always told me how bright I was...
surely, you must've seen the light going out.

was it the night
I sobbed into your chest,
and told you that some nights
I feel so cold and alone
even while someone I love
sleeps soundly beside me?
the night I told you
that I am not a good person
and you would be better off without me?
you never believed me
because I buried my secrets so deep,
but ****, if you knew...
boy, you would have ran
before I had the chance to convince you to stay.

or maybe it was the night
I told you that maybe,
just maybe,
there is no forever in our future?
I bared my soul and was met with
resentment and resistance.
we both cried that night.
you told me
there was no one else,
and that you couldn't picture a life without me in it.
snd I cried because
I could not say the same,
and I did not know why.
slowly, you faded from my future -
I could no longer see you
in the life I envisioned for myself.

no, but surely it had to be the night
I left in tears,
in search of answers
to questions I couldn't quite understand.
I almost found them
six feet underground...
I was saved, but not by you.
once again, I saved myself
because I learned my lesson before...
you can't expect the answers you seek
on the journey toward your Self
to roll off the tongue of another.

I always have this nightmare
where I’m tumbling down a hill,
rolling faster, picking up speed…
until I’m catapulted off a cliff
into a deep ravine.

In my dream, I wake up gasping
before I can find out
what is at the bottom.

Maybe there are piles of sharp rocks,
glass, needles...

Or maybe there’s a cool river,
plenty of beautiful trees and flowers,
or a soft bed of cotton.

My point is…
maybe it isn’t a nightmare.
It could be a dream.

I know there’s a difference
between falling and flying,
but I don't think I was born
with the ability to tell which is which.

Maybe one day I’ll learn
to let the tide take me away,
to let the ocean take control,
to lose touch with the Earth
without feeling like she’s sitting on my chest.

I hope one day,
I can feel the joy of flying
without feeling the panic of falling.

the hardest part
about missing you
is knowing
I shouldn't.

yet here I am,
up all night
aching and thinking of you
and you're sound asleep.

your dreams aren't filled
with the faces of a lover
who made promises
that were not kept.
(but mine were.)

you don't wake in the morning
wanting to return to your dreams
just to see my face
or hear my voice.
(but I do.)

you don't go about your day
wondering where I am
or what I'm up to
or if I'm thinking of you.
(but I always am.)

and at night
when you lay down to sleep
you don't wish
you were lying right next to me.
(nighttime is the loneliest, you know.)

but I think the hardest part
about missing you
is not dreaming of you,
or thinking of you,
or wishing you were here.

the hardest part
is knowing you made your choices
and I wasn't one of them.

In my eyes,
the sun rose and set
in yours.

I don't think
I could get
close enough
to you,
even if
I melted
into your skin.

It's amazing how
a simple tune,
a melody,
can carry so many memories.

Even after all these years,
I heard Our Song
and my heart started to race,
the same way it did when you would look at me
or call me "dear"...

And even though we're distant now,
it's like I can still feel
the touch of your skin,
soft and warm against mine,
before everything fell apart.

I wish we still talked,
I wish we kept in touch,
I wish I hadn't said the things I did,
But it's gone and in the past.

I have no regrets.
And no matter what,
you'll always have a part of me...

and I'll always remember you.

lately, I’ve been finding myself
sympathetic
with the alcoholics and drug abusers

and I’ve been creating
and relying
on my own habits
just to feel you again.

I watch the grass glow
and inhale the smoke,
and the sweet taste reminds me
of our nights spent together.

we moved like earthquakes
and our mouths were the desert,
but I still couldn’t keep
my shaky hands
or dry lips off yours.

and I know this is wrong,
because what we had was
only a twisted game of
Pretend.

and I know I can’t keep
wasting my heart,
feeling for people
who don’t feel back for me.

but I guess no one
will ever understand
what it’s like for us,
addicts.

to want so badly
to shatter the half-empty bottles,
to break every last ******* cigarette in the pack,
to stop destroying ourselves.

but I keep on depending
because my altered mind state
is always slightly better
than feeling the pain
of the hole you left
in my heart.

A beautiful girl
has a toxic mind;
she tries so hard
to keep in line.

Her thoughts are fire,
wild and treacherous.
They make her believe
that she made a mess of this.

Burned and scarred,
the black smoke passes.
Yet she’s still worried
about falling to ashes

from flaky bones
and charred skin,
but she’d rather burn
than let anyone in.                        
                                     ­                 November 5, 2014