What if we could reboot
Like
Reboot the love and the passion, the feelings and desires,
As if we were only a computer which crashed
Like we just need rebooted

What if we could kiss
Like, kiss each other alive again, mouth to mouth for the dead inside us to save us from dying
As if our lips would let us live again
Like we just need to kiss

What if we could cuddle
Like, cuddle each other warm inside, as if our body heat would warm our feelings to feel less cold
As if cuddling would let us feel again
Like we just need to cuddle

What if everything good we ever did, and I have no regrets
Like, everything would mean something, that we wouldn't just turn to it in a lust-fueled adrenaline rush
As if everything, slow and steady, would let us be us again
Like we just need to do everything

Reboot.

I still remember.

(Sweet girl, for your own good, don't read this, please...)

You may not remember, but I still remember.
I remember it all like it's happening again,
I can see the same pictures,
The same views,
The views from all those times,
When I hurt you.

You may not remember,
When we went to see the Akron Youth Orchestras,
At our High School on March 23,
When the Youth Philharmonic played selections from Les Miserables,
When you were singing along to beautifully,
When I was embarrassingly rude.

You may not remember,
But I remember the time I called you in the Spring,
When it was 45 degrees and pouring rain,
When I got mad about something that didn't even matter,
That I made you so upset you ran away from home,
Then suffered horribly in that rain.

You may not remember,
But I remember just after, when the rain dried up some, the next Sunday,
When it was still 45 degrees outside but not pouring rain,
When you and I went for a walk in the cold to go explore,
When we got a little too excited up on that hill, I think you know what hill,
When my fingers noticed the scabs on your arm, how you kept your sleeve pulled down.

You may not remember,
When we came back home, when I saw for sure, when we were on the famous sink-hole couch,
Oh, the look on your face, my heart sunk through the floor, because I knew what I'd done,
That you'd cried awake at night when you lied about being okay, just to make me happy,
You had cut yourself as punishment, when only I deserved punishment.
I still see the look on your face, wrapped in my arms, to my left, I still feel you shaking...

You may not remember,
That evening, how we talked for 4 hours,
How we just held each other, when we both felt so horrible,
When I was dying for hurting you, when you were dying from the pain,
How we both cried together, how I made you promise to never again,
Made you promise to never cut again, if I'd hurt you or left you, because I knew was a monster
(who would hurt you again)...
I still hear your sobbing when you and I were in each others arms in the kitchen...

I remember many more things,
They haunt me more than memories,
Because memories are the recalling of an event,
Recalling of how bad or good it was and nothing more,
But I'm cursed to recall everything as if they are photographs in an album, CDs on a shelf,
I see it all, I hear it all, I feel it all, and I have no goals except to tell you I'm sorry over and over and over...

Dear Girl,
I really really love you, yes I do.
Not like it used to be, I'm no longer "in love",
It's something different, that I'd never felt before,
But I really really love you,
Dear Girl.

Dear Girl,
I really really mean it, yes I do.
Not "in love" like I used to be, I'm something else,
It's so strange, and I've never felt it before,
But I really really love you,
Dear Girl.

Dear Girl,
I really really mean it, yes I do.
Not like I used to be, I've changed a whole lot,
It's different, my heart doesn't want "in love",
But I really really love you,
Dear Girl.

Dear Girl,
This poem was a long time coming,
But I wrote the story when I didn't know how to be me,
Now wrote the poem when I grew some brains,
But I always really loved you,
Dear.

Sweet Girl,
You didn't deserve those late nights,
Where I killed your insides, when I made you cry and cry and cry,
They made you love me less, they made you numb, and you fell out of love,
But I really really loved you,
Sweet Girl.

Sweet Girl,
I've never been anything you deserve,
You had to pick me up off the floor, and it was more than you needed,
You pieced me together, but the person before you, she sabotaged me,
I had a destruct button you couldn't see,
Sweet Girl.

Sweet Girl,
Neither of us saw it,
We both thought I'd healed, from the awful things that happened to me,
You didn't get to see, but the person you were, you stayed with me,
When I became a nuclear disaster,
Sweet Girl.

Sweet Girl,
I try not to blame,
But you'll never understand how your mother was the Tsunami and Earthquake, and I was Fukushima,
We both didn't see it, but I was a nuclear plant, and meltdown waiting to happen,
The damage was too great, that June,
Sweet Girl.

Sweet Girl,
I never understood,
Even my own actions, because I loved you from the start, and I don't know what happened to me,
But in times before you, people built me, and you just became the new plant operator,
You didn't know I was so unsafe,
Sweet Girl.

Sweet Girl,
Nuclear plants are rather safe,
They just can't handle Tsunamis and Earthquakes, because they're made of materials that crack,
Under that kind of stress, I didn't just crack, I crumbled, I began melting down,
But you didn't know and I'm sorry,
Sweet Girl.

Sweet Girl,
You've been through a lot,
The Tsunami was hard, but you didn't know about the radiation, that it would destroy you,
You were mutated by the horrible conditions you had to live through,
But you didn't know and I'm so very sorry,
Sweet Girl.

My love,
You didn't know it,
But we were both reactors waiting to blow, disasters waiting to happen, to cause destruction,
We mutated each other until we didn't even know who we were,
I'm so very sorry, so so sorry,
My love.

Poor Girl,
I really really try today, yes I do.
Not like I used to try, but now I try to be strong, and not a nuclear reactor but more like carbon fiber,
But carbon fiber is brittle, since you killed me inside,
But I forever love you,
Poor Girl.

Poor Girl,
You've cleared your rubble,
Growing to be the most amazing and beautiful of skyscrapers, you're an inspiration for the world, you know,
You're so much different, standing taller than you'll ever know,
But skyscrapers can fall too,
Poor Girl.

Poor Girl,
You make yourself content,
Being alone, you tell yourself that alone doesn't mean lonely,
That you find peace in the solitude,
But solitude is an empty thing,
Poor Girl.

Poor Girl,
We can pick each other up,
You don't even know, it's not the same kind of picking up that we tried before,
This picking up can only go up,
Because we don't even care to feel sad anymore,
Poor Girl.

Poor Girl,
You don't even know, how much I want to kiss you,
But it's different than before, it's more like the kisses mothers give to children,
When their children are crying, the kind of kisses that make great statements and tell stories,
The stories only kisses can give,
My girl.

My best friend just asked, "How can you create things like that?
It's really a fantastic talent you have."

The truth is, I don't have talent at all. Talent is subjective.
What is talent to one person, is trash to another.

You ever hear the saying, "One person's trash is another person's treasure..."?
It really applies to talent.

We can't go telling each other who is talented and who is not,
Who is good and who is not,

Because we're each only one person. What's trash to you isn't trash to me,
I wish people would see that.

I don't ever look at myself positively, only neutrally, (maybe most times negatively,)
I'm just me, and that's all I am.

I don't have talent,
Nor am I funny,
Nor am I silly,
Nor am I nice,
Nor am I mean,
Nor am I introverted,
Nor am I outgoing,

But not because I'm really not nice, or I'm not funny, or I'm not talented,
It's because you're nobody to judge,
Because you're not me.

I'm just me, and that's all I am.

The Purple Heart

Is not only a military decoration,
Though that decoration is deservingly given,
To those who perished in some way, serving their country,
For "Being wounded or killed in any action against an enemy of the United States
or as a result of an act of any such enemy or opposing armed forces."

You see now,
The Purple Heart,
It's also means what I have, The Purple Heart.
It's the type of heart disease that society and medicine don't talk about,
The kind you get after your heart's been beaten up.

I'm not the only person with The Purple Heart,
It's actually an epidemic, and it kills people every day --
But nobody wants to talk about it,
Because if they talk about it,
They just might catch it too.

The Purple Heart doesn't just affect the heart,
It gets in the blood, it eats at the mind,
Coursing through the veins of unsuspecting victims,
Victims of abuse, negligence, turmoil, but they don't get medals, they get pushed down,
Victims that are heroes.

If I get taken to court, thrown in jail over this I'll lose my brains

Maybe literally, by gunshot

As if a 17 year old girl can not think for herself,
As if her parents need to use the law to protect her,
From the cancer which is me.

Really though,

I don't care anymore,

I'm numb just like she was when she told me to get over her,

But she's hurting,

I don't want to kiss her,

But I do want to hug her,

For her, because even if I don't feel right now it doesn't mean
Doesn't mean I can't help someone else.
Help them feel again.

For her.

So over the last two hours,
I've been writing these poems
So I could stomach
My Spaghetti.

So I've been really sick lately,
I've lost a lot of weight
But I write these poems so I can eat
My Spaghetti.

Meanwhile,
I didn't realize that
I'm becoming less cold inside, but not
My Spaghetti.

After two hours,
My stomach is ready
For food that's no longer appeasing
My Spaghetti.