When she was 5
She drew a picture with the colors of the rainbow
It made everyone happy
Her teacher gave her a "star"
Her parents gave her a kiss
And tucked her in, warm and snug
Dreaming of fairies and princesses

When she was 15
She took a picture where everything was black and blue
It made everyone uncomfortable
Her teacher took her to the counselor
Her parents gave her punishment
She tucked herself in bed, with bruises and welts
And waited for the horrible nightmares to begin

When she was 25
She painted a scene where everything was gray and bleak
She didn't show it to anyone
But continued to see the counselor
Her boyfriend continued to beat her
She passed out in the living room, knocked out cold
With no dreams, nor nightmares to spare

Now she's 35
She wrote some words in red
Hoping for someone to finally see
She didn't visit the counselor, didn't take her medications
Life finally beat out all the fight in her
She saw herself covered in a sea of crimson
Warm fluid running down her wrists
Her vision began to blur
As she welcomes this final sleep

she was like
        a wilting flower
drained of all things
that kept the others upright

he was like
        a rushing brook
who saw her crumpled and tired,
crowded by overgrown weeds,
and wanted nothing more
than to clear the earth around her
and see her bloom again

so he took all he had
        and poured it into her
and when finally the pinkness
had returned to her cheeks
        she looked back at him
        and saw that

he was now like
        a withering shrub
frail and planted in dry clay

and despite the deep conviction
she had in her heart to restore him
        like he had restored her
all of her best efforts
left her with with exposed roots
and dirt beneath her fingernails

he wouldn’t let her stay
        to continue to try
        to quench his thirst
so she left him with a watering can
and promised he’d soon find relief

You run in my brain.
Footsteps on rugs.
Prints on a window pane.

Knock over the vase
and with a crash
disturb the place.

I wish you would leave
but that would mean
leaving me.

You've already made a home.
In my mind, with you,
I don't feel so alone.

You could have sliced my skin.
Peeled it back and eaten my heart.
Raw.
You could have shattered my bones.
Until each one cracked in half.
Snap.
You could have voiced your distaste.
Called me every name in the book.
Poison.

But even worse,
you didn't do anything.

It felt like goodbye when you held me,
Loosely like you didn't crave my warmth.
Your breath was relaxed and you went to sleep as we lay in each other's arms.
You couldn't meet my eye and I knew it was over.
I chocked back my tears hoping you wouldn't feel the sobs racking my body.
You went to sleep so am guessing you missed it.
It felt like goodbye when you watched me leave.
You made no move to hug me or ask me to stay.
The mild confusion in your eyes comforted me into thinking maybe I was wrong.
You didn't say a word though,
I heard goodbye in the silence of the air.
You didn't call and I felt you let go,
In the anticipation of a call that never came,
The sorrow of an expectant heart beating on even after its broken.
I cried and you didn't hear the screams of my shredded sanity.
I felt your goodbye in the love that smothered my hope,
When you didn't say anything.