I want to get drunk one last time
Just to know what I would say
Intoxicated words come out so much easier
Than trying it the sober way
I want to tell him I love him
I want to tell the truth
I want to feel like everything is acceptable
I want to talk to you
I want an excuse to come clean
About everything I have felt
From love to hate
to anger to lust
to that time I wanted to **** myself
I want to share things I am too scared to share
I want to hold him tight
I want to thank you for breaking my heart
I want to share incredibly sad things in the dead of the night
I want to be brave
I want to talk a lot
I want someone to listen
And not just laugh it off
I want to get drunk
So I can be who I truly am
But alcohol is bad
And I am clean
So I will filter these thoughts for now

Tiny dancers spilled into the room
it the most beautiful thing I've ever seen
they were the seasons dancing together, a beautiful year,
I wanted to intertwine my fingers with theirs and wrap myself in the silk of a morning sky
but they were sunbeams;
I could feel them, see them, but they were millions of miles away from my earthly skin
In that moment, I wanted to shovel away all the dirt that rested on the surface of my flesh,
to dig up my roots, to throw them at the sky
If only I could emerge from an icy ground and into the bleak midday sun, the soft white light of content,
If I could bloom toward the light and crawl up brick houses and hug the chimneys and let them warm me
but then the dancers scatter the room toward the exist, an abrupt, unsatisfying finale
I shrivel up like a sun-soaked worm and bury my face in the mud
I see a familiar darkness and I find it hopeless that the dancers will ever come back
I begin to forget I ever saw them at all.