and until the rivers run dry,
until the evergreens fade,
until the gods stop cursing,
until the sun falters on its path,
until the seasons fail to change,
until the fish forget how to swim,
until the music loses its beauty,
until the stars turn black,
until all this...
a woman's heart will still break
each time she realizes that
she couldn't change him

I went to church
I asked for forgiveness from a god I don't even know if I believe in
I fell in love, and
I ****** it up
I broke my own heart again
I put my faith in the hands of a damaged lover and
I paid the price
I got my hopes up
I waited by the door for my father for two years
I remember him as the first man to hurt me
I dusted myself off and tried again
I prayed for guidance from above even if
I didn't know if it was a god or an overhead light that heard me
I wanted salvation
I looked for it in a bottle but came up empty
I hated my body
I begged it to be different, for him
I failed my own goals
I lied to my mother so much I lost track
I wished I was different but did nothing to change it
I ran away
I came back
I picked up where I left off
I hoped for the best
I began to try

Someday it'll be ten years
Without a whole heart, without a best friend, without you
Time moves slowly and quickly all at once
I've missed you for ten months and sometimes it feels like ten minutes, the hurt is open and raw and deafening
Sometimes it feels like ten centuries, a prolonged breaking of my spirit
I'm selfish for missing you and I'm greedy for wanting you back
But I wasn't ready to say goodbye and sweet jesus I wish I had loved you when I had the chance
Before I hugged your mother and told her I was sorry for her loss
Before I stared at your ashes in a jar in front of an altar
Before I spent everyday since wishing you were still here
Too dry for tears
My heart swelled with rivers of missing you and now I have nothing left to mourn
How is it that I can write ****** poetry but I can't look your brother in the eye?
Come home is too selfish, too greedy
You packed your bags and left for the longest ******* road trip ever and of course I miss you, with every hair on my head and every freckle on my arms
But I know you needed closure
And for you, that came in a shot on a roof
I want more time with you
And I want to rush recklessly toward you in whatever heaven exists
My sins hold me back,
Save my seat below, my wish to stay alive (to live the life you couldn't and to keep my mother happy and to comfort your father and to smile for us both) holds me back
I miss you, miss you
And I can't wait for the day that I rise, a balloon without a hand tethering it to earth, until I hit the sun
Until I hit you, bright and burning

You were my habit
My obsession, my hobby, the sweetest scoop of ice cream, the prettiest sunset of summer
You were my habit
My "maybe someday", my hopes and dreams, the cherry on top, the last flower before fall
You were my habit
And then you stung me and it hurt like a *****
You were my habit
And then you clouded over my entire mind, so I switched you out for coffee
Because two shots of espresso can't break your heart
You were my habit
The closest I've ever come to success held right in my palms before drifting away
You were my habit
And I lost you, the only race I had a chance of winning
You were my habit
Beloved in the way you'd grip my hips and bite my lips and show me a taste of what it felt like to be two years in the future
Beloved in the way you'd tell me I was too immature and that you couldn't handle my problems and
You were my habit
From kissing me to breaking me and everything in between
Every argument and every cup of coffee bought as a caffeinated apology that I gulped down gratefully even when you burned my tongue
You were my habit
And just like everything worth loving, old habits die hard

Grab your popcorn and take a seat,
Because the unraveling of my tired soul is about to play out on the screen for everyone to see.
Is this the punishment for my sins?
My heart fracturing every time I watch them leave together
My stomach crumpling every time her name rolls off his tongue
My hands itching to be that close to his, just a centimeter away from being held
I know when a ship has sailed.
It's my fault, really, for taking my time walking to the docks
The path was smooth and the sun was setting and I got caught up in the beauty of it all that by the time I realized I wanted to get on board, I was running and crying out for the captain to wait
He was gone
There's no use in diving in the water and swimming after the boat
Another one with a pretty sail and a welcoming anchor will come along soon enough, so I'll bide my time in the salty sea air
I know when a ship has sailed.
But that doesn't mean it doesn't hurt to watch it fade over the horizon.
Maybe my sins are more numerous than I thought, or maybe I was a serial killer in a past life and I'm paying the price in this one
Either way I am sore and wretched and weary hearted and just so ******* tired of
Watching another back walk out my door

I feel so full I could burst
Longing and lovesickness and loud songs of sorrow filling my heart
I'm bittersweet to my core
Some days I wish I didn't feel so much
But I'd rather have a bruised heart and a cracked pride than be totally numb
It's easy to complain about the one wrong thing than be grateful for all the right
I never used to drink coffee like a second hobby
But now I'd sacrifice anything to wake myself up from this bad dream
I felt love touch my tender heart once
It turned me into a fire, bright and warm and endless
And then the wind came and blew me out
I was cold and it was dark in the circle of stones
And I was alive still in only the embers burning
"Almost" makes my soul crumple
It's never enough, never quenching, never fulfilling
Yet...
I feel so full I could burst

your name
i hear it and i feel volcanic
it sets me off like a cannon and i feel like a gunshot
it triggers me triggers me triggers me triggers triggers triggers--
i close my eyes when i hear your name and my mind is filled with black pain
i feel like a ghost sometimes: floating limply through the motions of living but existing somewhere else
people talk around me but i hear numbness
your name is a fire in my heart and it burns so brightly that it blinds me and i love it, i do
i love feeling the flames of your incredibleness scorch my insides, hurt me and make me proud
being with you was better than heaven
and now i am not
we were two sinners that found each other in a world of pain and wove a cocoon of false paradise
your name is on the tip of my tongue every waking moment and when i speak it, i erupt
loss is not foreign to me
i'm the smallest scrap of a ripped family picture and i'm torn
maybe i romanticize (there's no maybe)
but i love you and i feel your name shatter my soul when i hear it, a beautiful melody fallen flat on deaf, ghostly ears
i shiver
you were my understander, my heart
and i live my life as a prayer to you
always

and a string pulls me back, tugging my wings shut with a sigh
making it just too hard to leave
how am i so reluctant all of a sudden?
i was past ready, my longing to fly off overripe
but a sweet song, an invisible tie,
floating on the melancholy of a mid-may moment of bliss,
wraps me in the warmth of staying home
i hate my timing
swoosh in the net and i am trapped
swimming pool eyes make walking away ache
springtime always made me sad because no one should be able to move on while i'm standing still,
but now i'm moments from a departure long overdue and i stop:
the edge of the cliff is my favorite place to live
it feels like walking down the aisle after a decade-long engagement just to find a boat waiting to carry you back to the beginning
i want to go
nothing ties me to "home" anymore,
my heart is packed away six feet underground
but it's bursting and gasping for air and begging to see light and
i want to stay

these are not my hands, they are my bow and arrows
they are my weapons, my self-defense, my fortified walls
they flex and bend and push and cradle and create and destroy
i find in them the source of my power
they're the brave ones, tracing down my thoughts when my lips are too cautious to speak
they're the proud ones, delicately vain as they sketch the skeletons of beauty onto dusty piano keys
when i am empty and numb they stir a spoon in a cup of tea and wait for me to feel something
when i am shaking with a great and terrible anger they clench and unclench and clench and unclench and clench and unclench and heal
my hands are my heroes
and they are my villains
i control the volume in my palms because sometimes it gets loud and because sometimes my heartache is deafening and because sometimes i need to drown in the thumping, the crashing, the assault of my fingers on the unassuming ivory
and because sometimes i wallow in my self pity and because sometimes it feels good to be surrounded by the quiet sound of my tears on my cheeks
from my fingertips to my wrist i am a goddess, all slender bone and delicate veins snaking under taut, soft skin
i feel capable and lovable and just able, just pure, when i crack my knuckles before returning to my writing
it is easy to forget that aphrodite could cause catastrophe too, that her face (my hands) were more than just pretty and decorative
i remember each hit
each poke
each grasp
each clench
each stretch
each caress
each punch
and i love them like my children
the pain i've brought, from my right hand to my left forearm and from my left hand to someone else's right cheek and everything in between, it is with me always like the scars i've left and i could hate myself
so easily
but in the aftermath of my earthquake, i love my power
comfort is knowing that i'm a straight shot
that my bow and arrows can execute what odysseus did
comfort is knowing that i'm a *****
that i unnerve those that deserve it and dethrone the prideful queen
so i sleep peacefully even when i don't sleep

together our family was a flower
              and petals got ripped off
                              and now we're pressed and preserved and dead in a
                                               photo album

some of us are dead, another body in a grave and an x-ed out name on a family tree
some of us are alive, carrying on and telling the stories of who we were with wet eyes and crumpled hearts

we have burns and scars and bruises and still, even in the funeral-home-quiet of our messy souls, we breathe again, another generation of loud and emotional and freckled kids following us

in the wake of loss and ache and everything raw, life proves its beauty once again: we are our darkest moments, the genetic disease we pass to our children
but we are our brightest, too, and we hold each other as we create from the ashes

It's happening again:

I don't feel a bit of anything, I feel nothing.
I'm numb and I'm empty and I'm a hand that's fallen asleep, tingling only as a reminder that I can't feel a **** thing.

I hate this feeling.
It scares me.
I don't feel love for the one that won my heart. I don't feel guilt or pity or happiness or curiousity.
I fear that I will spend the rest of my life in the black-and-white fuzz on a tv screen.
I fear that I will die unfulfilled, feeling nothing and saying nothing.
I stare into the empty mug and I am an iced injury, cold and stiff and callous.

I hate this and I keep hating it and fearing it and suddenly the fog lifts, the hum of radio static dies and I can wiggle my fingers once again and--

I am left with anger.
I am left with sorrow.
I am left with an aching dullness in my lungs.

I am left with the unshakeable desire to drink until I am full, until my heart bursts with songs of lost emotion.

It's cold in my chamber of fear and hatred, but my stomach is warm with another, another, another...

day number 365 plus a few
and i still don't understand it

i'm just a tired girl with skinny arms and a drinking problem,
a sad sack, a sorry *******, a poor unfortunate soul

you are electricity in a nutshell, the very face of exultation,
the greatest thing your small town has ever seen.

i look at your face and understand why storms are named after people: you are the prettiest **** hurricane i've had the pleasure of meeting

god felt bad for all the **** that happened so he sent you to me, an angel if i've ever heard of one

you're imperfect in the best possible way,the  iridescence in a soapy puddle, the gold chain on a sinner's neck

maybe my shell-shocked love is why i'm sabotaging my own wretched heart: after it all, i cannot believe you'd love me back

so i'll stab my own back and break my own soul because i'm just me and you're..... you

why would a king look twice at a pauper, much less take her into the folds of his bruised heart and love her as an equal?

i'm still trying to figure it out, so until then, i'll write and second guess and drink and laugh bitterly

I'm having doubts again. See, I don't last very long with a good thing before I overthink and over analyze and over anticipate and overwhelm and suddenly it's a poison that's eating me alive. I felt alive and that was all that mattered, feeling love and loved at last, after time and time again where my heart and brain teamed up to destroy my iridescent hope and it was so good that I didn't even see the flaws, looked through them like glass. Except now, his glass is half empty-- but only for a split second before its half full and then totally full-- and he's not a mean drunk but he drinks so ******* much that it makes me sick and I'm sick of my own hypocrisy because God knows I drink more than I should but I'm not throwing my life away with every shot. I know we have a shot at fixing our problems before I let this love spiral down the drain but I just can't seem to make it out alive because self sabotage is so much easier. Maybe I should stop looking around, maybe I should wear blinders when I walk so I don't see potential replacements with "no flaws" and of course I know they're all flawed but... But... I didn't lose my train of thought I lost my conscience because how can I look elsewhere? I spent so much time wishing I would be loved back and now that I am I want nothing more than the freedom of watching a different back walk out my door whenever I want. It's just a real chin-scratcher, how on one hand I want forever with him-- his drinking problem and his floppy hair and his long distance and his standoffish-ness-- but on the other I want out.

blessed are they who are left behind, for theirs is the kingdom of sorrow

the only omniscient  thing in this world is my sad, drunken state

God cannot possibly  be real, because why would he desert me? i turned my life into a song of prayer to Him

but my song has become a wilted requiem and i see no proof of heaven

i cry out in the chapel abandoned and scream into the confessional, all the names of my sins and i beg for forgiveness

my priest is afraid of me. when i cried onto his white sleeves-- too pure for me-- when i cried out he whispered that God had yet to create a prayer that would absolve me, that there weren't enough Hail Mary's in the world to reconcile my broken bits

so i sit in the pew and i let my tears fall to the stone floor in hopes that the salt will burn a hole that'll lead me to hell

because clearly i don't belong here, not where a man on a wooden cross is staring down blankly and not helping

deep down, deeper down than hell, i know in my battered heart and fickle soul that no matter what, i believe

faith is what has kept me alive through thick and thin, through threadbare afternoons and thorny thoughts and were i to give up now, to give in to an assault of cynicism and disbelief, i would fall (and faith is the only thing that kept me on my feet anyway)

so i walk a hypocritical tightrope: how do i question everything and remain devoted? is my trust in my faith really my own, or do i have generations of guilt-dishing irish catholics to credit? am i religious or just spiritual?

and i teeter, and the tempestuous winds blow at me, and i lose my footing

and dear god, do you know how ******* frustrating it is?
cat's got my tongue and she's never giving it back,
but maybe she'll be able to speak the words that are stuck on the tip of it
the "no"s and the "come back"s and the "stay here"s

the wind doesn't have a problem speaking her mind
because she's always been round and she always will be and some loud words won't end her
but i
i
i am not the wind
i am not so fearless and casual and trusting
i am in pain, i am stuck in a barbed wire cage of writers' block and separation anxiety

when you leave a piece of my sanity falls away like cigarette ash and i watch it build a mountain at my feet
we've gotten to the point where  i can't even tell how much i love you, it's drowning my chest and turning everything into a sea of heartache and
and
and we know each other so well, it's a shame i see you never
we have our toes dipping into the same ocean but we live on different shores

maybe in the grand scheme of things this deafening longing doesn't mean anything
but god this shitstorm of love and desperation and distance and lust means everything to me

isn't it sad how your friends aren't your friends anymore?
how the people you spent every moment with are now nothing more than distant stars,
how your memories and inside jokes have sunk to the bottom of the ocean,
how--
how?
i didn't mean for us to grow apart. i didn't mean to stop calling, to stop loving you all
you made me feel whole and confident and able and funny and wanted
and now we're nothing more than ships on the same sea waves, sea floors,
see, it just doesn't feel right because one of us is missing,
and we never thought that "till death do we part" would ever come true.
come on, did you expect us to last forever?
i did, if only because endings rip my heart in two
two months can make the whole difference and we haven't talked in forever and i barely know you anymore
i know that this is life and i should get used to it, but
somehow, after all of the storms i've-- we've-- weathered, loss still hits me like a ship to an iceberg
and i'm sinking, and all my friends are dead and gone

i was convinced it was my heart that was dead,
-shriveled up and rotting like the corpses of people i loved
-cold and lifeless and still beating, but only technically
-so full of emptiness that it just imploded

and now, somehow, it can't be the dead thing, because it's warm again, loving again, bright and cherry red and beaming

but my lungs are gone
and my liver
and my sanity

somewhere on the road from suicidal to happy again,
from the edge of the cliff to the edge of glory
from hell to heaven
i ended up killing myself after all

i don't mind, though, because my body might be dying a bit faster than it already was, but my soul is living the ******* dream

And yet, somehow, nonetheless, even so,
I am loved
And I love
And I love and get loved and love and get loved in an endless cycle
His name makes my heartstrings loosen
He's a million miles away and when his voice filters through my phone I feel my lungs get in the car and drive to him
I wish it wasn't so
And yet
I wish nothing will ever change
Day after day,
I make plans
What I'll do when I see him next,
What I'll say when he asks me to marry him,
What I'll name our first
Second
Third
Fourth?
Child and what I'll do when they get into college
What I'll do if he dies before me
What I'll want written on my grave, next to his, because if we can't spend these moments together now, it's only fair we get eternity
And yet,
We're young and things might not go as planned
But I'll wake up tomorrow and make a new plan
Because when you love and are loved in return, you have time

sick again,
heart beating too fast and stomach clenching too tight.
it's staring at me
the last little line, little reminder, little pain,
intersecting my veins with it's pale puckered lips.
619 days since it appeared,
since i dug the little trench in my too-white skin, soft skin.
i have hated every day that it has stayed there, staring up at me, taunting me to give it more friends.
and i know that i'm sick, again, always,
but i have some self control, some semblance of sanity that hasn't left me like everyone else did.
and it's okay, my rotting, lips blue like my veins through my skin, the rivers that lead me home.
it's staring with expectant eyes, daring
me to be weak and to be strong.
it's the devil and the angel all in one,
so i pull on a sweater and i pretend it's not too hot next to the fire in the winter, under the sun in the summer, and i drown the eyes of my scar(s) and fill the rivers with another drink.
sick again,

& it was quiet, rain on windows and radio on low
then she turned down the volume and asked, "do you still believe in god?"

and i was stumped

do i believe in god, after it all?
after the hurricanes that broke down my house over and over again

and it was quiet again, as i turned the question over on my tongue like fine wine (even though i'm too poor for the good stuff)

and i do
i have to
i have to believe in god,
in the potential for salvation even though my sins paint my soul
in the potential for happiness that my boys couldn't find on earth
in the potential for painless forevers

i believe in god like i did santa: faith keeps him alive in my mind even if he's not real, because believing in him is easier than believing in a void

and so i said this, and she asked why and i said why and she asked, "are you sure?"

and i turned my head back to the road ahead of me, and let the miles drown me

in other news, i wrote a love letter.
see, i can bare my soul to strangers on the internet, but i can't tell my mother how i feel about having pasta for dinner.
the letters were stuck like an ink traffic jam, bottle-necking in the pen and refusing to pour out onto the page.
but my heart was a white blank page (and a swelling rage) when this began, and now it's black and blue in the best possible way, covered with the evidence of what loving you looks like.
look carefully and make sure not to touch the artwork, the sign says, except you're the artist so i really beg you to touch your masterpiece.
i've been working real hard, see, at mastering my emotions and letting them out and so i wrote a letter with the words 'i' and 'love' and 'you' in it, in that order, no other words between.
i'm tired of the space between us but i can't do much about it in the moment, so i forced through the blood clot and let the inky words flow, coursing across the page like an uninhibited river, Rapids and all.
and rapidly, the page filled, and then the next and the next and i wrote the words that i've dammed back for almost as long as i've known you, the words that the strangers on the internet know i feel and my mother claims she doesn't hear often enough.
and it's enough, i hope, the three words with strength to fell empires and dynasties and crack open the proud heart of a teenage girl, enough that you (someday, when you really mean it) will say back

a poem a day while my heart is away*
It got too hard
To write,
To sleep,
To eat,
To be

It felt wrong and it felt constricting

There wasn't freedom and happiness in the only things that brought me joy

I guess that's what happens when writers block takes over your entire life, clogs your pores and dams up your soul

Poetry hasn't tasted the same

Maybe it's because my heart is miles away from me, maybe it's because I forgot how it feels to be loved in his absence

So I put down the pen in frustration

a poem a day while my heart is away*

L is for the way you look at me
O is for the only one I see
V is for the villainous smile in the miles that keep us apart, taunting me and haunting me in my sleep and in my veins
E there's extraordinary beauty in your eyes and extraordinary cruelty in the gods that don't let me see you every minute of forever and ever
LOVE is made for you and me, except we have to work for it, swim against the current for it

and for all my complaining, I don't mind

a poem a day while my heart is away*
Six days feels like six months feels like six years

I hate going to sleep alone

Tell me I'll see you soon and dismiss my fears

I hate only talking on the phone

music to you
walking to you
laughter to you
pain to you
love to you
sadness to you
strength to you

.sometimes it hurts more than anything
.and my neck is stiff with the stress of missing you
.sometimes i turn on the playlist called "L"
.and let it play for hours, crying softly under the flow of the shower stream
.sometimes i just can't stop thinking of you
.and it makes my cold heart shrivel up and weep
.sometimes i hate you
.and then i hate my selfishness
.sometimes your death feels like it wasn't real
.and then i remember holding your mother at your funeral

always, it is for you
my life is a song dedicated to my best friend, my secret keeper, my partner in crime, my whole heart
and i cry still

a poem a day while my heart is away*
i'll be drinking again tonight
drowning in liquor that makes stars look blue
i'll be drunk again tonight
because i won't be with you

a poem a day while my heart is away*
this is not a poem about love, for once.
this is a poem about a dead best friend and how to move on.

step one: there is no such thing as moving on. every time you walk down the hall you turn to see if they're nearby. sometimes you find yourself waiting outside their classroom like you always did. you think of a funny joke and open a new text message, type it out, and remember right before you press send. at least two hundred times a day, their name tumbles through your mind and nearly dives off your tongue.

step two: it is okay to scream. crying won't happen initially; it's all throaty sobs and waterfalls of tears. you may or may not feel the urge to drive your fist through a wall, bawl into your knees, and stare at things blankly, all at the same time.

step three: you will feel numbness, and you will feel unbearable pain. they might come in short succession, and you will feel completely out of sorts.

step four: sometimes, it's more manageable. you can hear their favorite song, or see a shirt they would've liked and smile. other times, you may feel the need to throw up. you will hear the word suicide in class, or see a gun on tv, or watch a mother pick up a child with the same name, and it will hurt like nothing else.

step five: there is no such thing as moving on, but there is such thing as living. your best friend will forgive you for laughing, and smiling (and for being angry and sad and confused and jealous). you have two lives to live now in too short a time, so sob while you go.

a poem a day while my heart is away*
i should be doing work right now, you see,
i should be doing something worth the while
papers are piling up all around me
but i'm too lazy to organize/file.
i can't stop thinking of how you kissed me,
how you made my lips feel new once again,
how you held my hands and called me baby,
how you touched me by windows streaked with rain.
god was surely feeling generous
when he gave me a perfect savior with
a tongue that could never be venomous,
and candy lips like the stuff from a myth.
i feel adored, blessed, carefree, and divine
that your iridescent love is all mine

a poem a day while my heart is away*
& i just can't stop thinking about that kiss
it's so disney cliche, but i felt my heart stop and start again, all at once
i felt the hands of a god lift my blackened soul away
i felt redemption and torture at the same time
i felt regret and pride
-
i wish it was my first kiss
(and my last kiss)
and every kiss in between
i wish every other set of lips mine have touched would burn and drown like useless feathers
i wish i could exorcise the memory of them
you are the alpha and omega and i see balance in the way you kiss
-
you're cruel, really,
expecting me to go on with living without living with you
i trace sonnets in the sand
and limericks into the sheets you left half-empty
lights off when i'm with you, then you're light years away
kisses are redefined now thanks to your lips of spun gold
and i'm left here waiting

a poem a day while my heart is away*
here i feel the numbness, the dull ache on unkissed lips and ungripped hips
i didn't know what i was missing all those months apart but
but
but now i've tasted freedom and bliss and sin and martyrdom,
and living without you again seems horribly impossible.
we walked amongst dying trees and you held my cold, bony hands in your warm ones,
and i kissed your chapped lips and realized that if every day of my life was like that one, i don't think i'd ever be plagued by my usual sadness again
is it wrong to need you so?
is it wrong to love you so?
thus from my lips, by thine, my sin is purged
i've never loved being broken as much as i do when it's by your hands
and i miss you
and i miss you
and i don't know when i'll see you again
and i hate that

anxiety is my middle name
i've got a sore heart and a rusted soul
***** tastes just like water if you drink it fast enough
but tonight is for working, for preemptive fixes,
for hand cramps and write-delete-write-delete-delete-delete
there comes a time where ******* and moaning just doesn't cut it anymore
and you have to slap your cheeks (to pull it together) to stay awake
putting down your security blanket is harder than it seems
but beauty is pain and pain is bloodshot eyes and all-nighters
so the bags under my eyes really are pretty then, right?
true or false:
-staying up all night will wash away your daytime memories like whisky never could
i don't drink coffee
i'm drowning myself in tea too sweet just to make it through the next few hours
because i have so ******* much work to do
it's okay, though, if only because i'm used to being surrounded by a hell of my own design
i can see the bottom of my mug now and it's sneering at me, mocking me
it knows that i'm seconds away from getting up and filling it with more sugar, more hot water
and so i do, fulfilling a prophecy i wrote myself
but to republish a correction: i don't like doing this, despite contradicting evidence
i don't like falling and failing and flailing
i don't like watching myself run out of breath and steam and ideas
i don't like hating myself
but i'm a wreck, a tragedy, a sorry *******, and so i don't try to fix it, not really
i drink tea

We don't ask for much.

We want a simple life, a love uncomplicated.

We want nights in with ice cream and movies, lazy mornings with tangled sheets and entwined limbs.

We want study dates and tender kisses.

We want time.

We are held apart by endless miles, barriers more cruel than cell walls.

We want a chance to be near and be happy and be unburdened and be free.

We have dreams,
and empty beds,
and dinners for one,
and phone call romance,
and nine hundred miles of what ifs and if I were with yous.

We will have each other, in the flesh someday, but until then we settle for wants and wishes.

like a flower wilts
in winter, you will not last
depression's cold frost

I'm a liar, I'm a hypocrite, I'm alone and I'm defeated
I'm a sad girl with a sore heart and you're everything I've needed
I'm so ******* sorry and I feel so ******* guilty,
I'm sorry that he kissed me (I wish that he had killed me)
I'm sorry that I kissed him back and I'm sorry that it'll hurt you
I'm sorry I was mad when you told me you'd kissed her back, too
I'm torn and I'm ashamed for the ****** mess I've made
But most of all I'm sorry for thinking this would be an even trade
I'm a weak girl with crumbling walls that thought she could fix your heart
I'm sorry for only tearing you further apart

& there was a lamppost, of course, because we met in the dark on the first night we kissed and it's only fitting that we met in the dark on our last night, too.

i waited until i got in the car to cry (i've never wanted to let you see my weakness) (nothing changed, nothing changed).

you are a heartless robot, only capable of judgment and anger and superiority. but maybe i wanted to give you a heart for all of those reasons.

it was bad and it was good, it was illumination and it was pitch black, all at once. my feet felt light but my heart felt heavy and my ears felt sore as you listed the whys and i asked the whys.

i could literally never hate you, but i sure have come close (your sweet talk and sugar kisses have pulled me off the ledge before, but this time i walked away on my own, content in my "it's not that i don't like you, it's that i don't like the things you've done to me" exenut)

part-time lover and full-time heartbreaker, i feel no twinge on my heart strings as i watch you walk away this time

I found god again
In the way my feet move in my sleep,
Like I'm accelerating and braking on the roads that'll take me to you.

I found god again
In the way your eyes get heavy and tired,
Blurry on my phone screen,
Your smile insisting that you're not too tired to hang up because this is all we have.

I found god again
In the way this distance is crippling but our faith in us steadies the hands,
Holds us strong against the current.

I found god again
In the way the wind kisses you,
Even when I can't,
In the way the wind carries my prayers
Across the miles and rivers and mountains and forests.

& I found god again
In the way you care

and it's all quite a bit ****** up, isn't it?
              there's fire burning my corners black and my feet are too numb to continue up the mountain
                             and my heart is heavy
and my lips are dizzy
         and i can't fully remember how to be whole
                                                    but i like the way this feels, sick as it is
                        because the shore hates the river but loves the water
and i can't breath, can't make full sentences (how can i be full if my heart is this empty?)
                                        it's okay, though, if only because it has to be
     but i'm not complaining
                   and your eyes adjust to blackness if you've been in the dark for so long

there's only so many apologies I can whisper into the crook of your neck until my voice shrivels and cracks and takes a page from your book and is gone— perhaps, perhaps, you could tilt my chin up and purge my sin from my lips with yours

                & I look at your blood, now dried and caked under my nails, and the tears wash it out, because I weep at the monster I have become

& HOW MANY TIMES DO I HAVE TO APOLOGIZE FOR THE CRESTING WAVES I BURNED DOWN TO GET CLOSER TO YOU?

AND STILL, I DID NOT REACH THEE. I NEVER WANTED TO SWALLOW FIRE BUT MY LUNGS WERE BLACKENED ON MY WAY THROUGH TIDES TO A YOU I NEVER TOUCHED (IT WAS WORTH IT)

& if I held you to my ear I could feel your heartbeat, slow and content with my hand on your chest (speeding up as it moves down, down)

I could feel the softness of your skin, turned the deep pink of a blushing girl—the sun's work— and holding the heat of that close star's burning tendrils

I could feel movement in your muscles as your arm curls around my waist lazily, an afterthought, like it's a natural instinct to pull me tighter in your sleep

I could feel shivers on my bony spine while you kiss iridescence behind my eyes in the way your lips press where my jaw meets my neck

I could feel an utter wholeness that I've missed for so long

Except—
Except——
Except———

You're too far away, a distance that even the "phone call" between the ocean and the little child pressing the shell against her ear cannot fix

&i; am absolutely in love with the stars, how they glow with a humbling superiority from their cosmic, hallowed heights

i am kinder than the ocean waves, i hope, because they break with a strength to rival a jackhammer against the same shores they kiss gently

i am in awe when i see the evergreens— they stand powerful and proud and unreachable  and still, still, even after generations of hearing and seeing everything

i am jealous of the sun's rays, because they get to lay their tender golden fingers on your proud face while i'm far and away under the moon's guard

⁢'s for my mother, because she taught me to cook and fix a car tire

she cleaned the house and sat with a beer in front of a Sunday football game

she cried and stood by stony faced

she was both and she was everything

it's not a broken home if there are pieces missing from the beginning and it's not a sad, father-less world if you've got a mother strong enough to raise her daughter right alone