i.
i know my body is not the same body you hurt, my skin not the same skin

ii.
i know you've never said my name
and i know you haven't said another word to me since

iii.
but i know
i still have the same nightmares
the same fears
this new body tremors the same

i know you can see me,
i am shaking,
shivering, wincing and twitching
it doesn't look good by any means

but i know you can see me,
breathing,
breathing, grounding, focusing
while it doesn't look good, would you please believe me

i am handling it
the best i can
i promise, i am handling it

i.
you are still safe
you are still safe
you are still safe you
are still safe

ii.
i know you can't remember
but you were so happy
and i promise you will feel that again

iii.
and i know you have no energy
but i promise you will be able to move again
this isn't forever

i.
when i read your words about you holding me,
me holding you,
i see them in the shape of your head on my chest, your hands
on my heart and my hands
in your hair, around your wrists, on the back of your neck my face
in your hair these words
smell like your shampoo
feel like your short soft hair feel like your fingertips
on my collarbone your palm on my shirt
feel like us together, feel like us safe

ii.
of course,
this is about you
my good

I.
you are the kind of match that burns for what seems forever

II.
the kind I used to hurt myself with

I want to bleed out all my regret and forget,
but I'm willing to bet I don't have that much control over what I lose, or how much

i.
it is never the right time

ii.
you are never sure enough

iii.
you will never say anything

iv.
it will always be like this

v.
you will witness every way people can fall apart

I.
because I've never loved myself but I'm starting to, with you

II.
because I've never known who I really am and I hated that, hated myself,
there was always a pause, always something held back or misspoken, insufficiently explained
because I was never safe and I was never fully understood, and there was always something lost in translation

III.
but I've always hated that person, who hid his stutter, who spoke slowly so as not to let slip mistakes from his words and thoughts, never mention the things he really cares about because then,

IV.
well he would probably talk to fast and he would probably stutter he'd probably speak so fast and with so much excitement that he'd forget to apologize until he'd remembered no one cared, no one wanted to hear, and he'd slow down and regret so much, hate himself so much for bringing this upon himself

V.
except with you,
I talk about everything, and everything I care about,
and I'm not afraid of talking fast,
or tripping over words,
because I know you won't leave me if I fall, because you've done it so many times
because you just laugh and pick me up again and again and hold my hand and
you laugh like its funny
like its not ridiculous
like you can't even imagine wanting me to stop every time I trip
like you just want me to keep going and you'll help and
I love the person I am when I'm holding your hand

blue dress- it is soft, it shapes around your chest like it's supposed to be there, and you begin shaking with no end in sight

white feather earrings- your face is softened and you remember you don't want to be soft

blue beaded earrings- they match your dress and your dress makes you want to die

bird earrings- they are small and bright and you curl up on the floor and wonder which parts of you are real

moon and star earrings- they are small and pale and no one but you can ever see

sun earrings- you shiver and don't think anything

blue crystal earrings- they are the strongest form of feminine you have ever had, and you remember buying these from a street vendor, holding them like some strong piece of the world belonged to you

peace symbol earrings- they are small but familiar enough to be recognized and you feel sick in your throat, your face, every part of you that accepted peace is aching, you want to tear it out

blue stones and dangling silver hoops- these make you look like a woman, which is a familiar future you have been told of, and you realize just because you understand it doesn't mean you want it

dangling iridescent gems- these make you look like a girl, she would love them on you, and you decide to give them to her before you remember she's changed, now you don't know what to do with them

warm colored striped dress- it shows all your bones and still makes you look so soft, you are so, so cold

black feather earrings- these feel like how you used to try to be strong femininely, both of those at the same time, and you tore yourself apart for years not understanding why it was so hard, blaming yourself

black beaded earrings- these make you look like femininity comes easily to you, as you wish it didn't, these seem to belong, as you wish they wouldn't, and these are so heavy, just like everything about this, you are still shaking

silver rose studs- these are small, indistinct, you remember being familiar with this small amount of femininity you thought was necessary, and you twitch violently, something itches, you are hunched

black pants, shirt, jacket- you have a body, in the most abstract sense, and now no reasonable person could call it what they wanted

spider stud- it's small, looks metallic, and delicate yet menacing, like you never could be

maybe it's the staccato of your fingers drumming on my knuckles maybe it's the way you tell me it's what you want too
maybe it's how a palm is an offering or a suggestion always answered in kind
maybe it's how your voice gets as soft as your hands when you hold both of mine
maybe it's when you laugh at me for reaching for your hand before doing the same
maybe that's why it's so safe

those times that you do feel happy,
you clench the feeling tightly, in your anxious fist, and you hold it up, above anything and everything that you fear could take it from you

i.
no one gets it, right? no one understands, they don't know what they're talking about

ii.
the warnings, the pamphlets, the list of red flags

iii.
they may seem familiar but it's just not like that, right?

iv.
of course not

I.
it's black and white it's up and down its either or its back and forth

II.
its, no, I'm okay with that, no, I'll scream if you do that, no, that part I like, no, not there, not that direction and it's, too much

III.
it's easier to say no to all than to give everyone your story
when you tell them where the land mines are,
when you tell them where they can't go
and what they can't say
they will want to know why
and why is it okay to do this and not that?
why is it okay if you're in control but too tight a grip on your leg and you'll fall apart?
why is it such a fine line?

IV.
and you have no way to tell them that the line tends to deviate, that some days you have felt safe enough in your body even enough to think that maybe you don't have to be alone but most days you feel so alone in your body and it feels so familiarly sick that you can't even begin to comprehend where it is okay to be touched and what is okay to say and it is easier to say

V.
no

VI.
why wasn't it that easy the first time around?

it has never been real, but it is an eloquent lie you're being told
sadly, obviously untrue

cut perfectly along seams, missing screws carefully stored, missing handles cleanly, completely disappeared

too-perfect scratches only inspire the appropriate messy panic when they are given the benefit of the doubt

anyone can reason that there is no reason for this to be believed

I.
I tried to kiss the places I'd hurt myself

II.
as an act of calming angry red skin or of belated self love

III.
the smell of burnt flesh was nauseating

I.
like,
a thrill, unfamiliar
like I've wanted and never had, never could bear

II.
as if,
made to fit, surprisingly easy
as if it's what I needed,
and never expected

I.
all I ever wanted was to not be a regret

II.
you told me I was your favorite mistake like I should be thankful

III.
if you are telling me the truth,
know this;

IV.
no, you may not tell me you regret kissing me,
in the same breath that you ask me to stay

i.
it is hard to find poetry in this,
unfocused,
staring,
glaring,
detached

ii.
blurry images, twisted
headache

I.
you don't know who this person is,
what do they want?

II.
try to find empowerment here, find only confusion, find only unfamiliar memories, find only resistance

III.
maybe if you can make it poetry you won't throw up

IV.
sometimes you cry and you don't know why, sometimes you feel sick and you know why, sometimes you want to die and you don't know why you don't,

V. so you do

I.
nothing I write about you is, poetry not really
when it's just memories, and it's just words, and I have nothing poetic to say about this and

II.
if I can make it poetry I won't throw up about it but I could never make this poetry

III.
at least 4 years later she asked me why I never told anyone before her. sooner. ever. why I let you go and do it again. and again. why I let you.

IV.
I didn't tell her it was because-
I couldn't remember exactly and,
I didn't know what was wrong exactly and,
I didn't know what she wanted from me in bed exactly and,
she was above me and my heart was in my throat and this is exactly,
why I didn't tell anyone because
I still can't tell myself it wasn't my fault.

I.
try on the boy who thinks his name is girl. is sister. is daughter. he thinks his name is the one that means everything he's never been and never wants to be

II.
try on the boy who watches things burn and tells no one his name. because they would take it. because it belongs to him and he needs time to fill himself up with it before he can trust himself to share it without losing it

III.
try on the boy who demands people use his name. because it belongs to him. he demands people recognize it. this boy is not afraid to tell people unapologetically what they will call him.

I.
try on the boy who hated his body. he feels comforted rather than uncomfortable when the people who love him say he doesn't have to. that it isn't the wrong body, or one beyond repair. that it simply is. this boy is okay.

II.
try on the boy who hated his lips. he feels safe rather than threatened when the boy he trusts says he wants to kiss him. he has trouble believing it but gets closer everyday. this boy is okay.

III.
try on the boy who hated his name. he has people who know him, and love him, and take the name he's made for himself and love it.  he melts when these people attach his name to him, and to affection, and to recognition, and to appreciated. this boy is okay.

i.
you are a burden in hands,
a weight on shoulders,
a heaviness in heart

ii.
let go
everyone will fly

I.
try on the boy who thinks of his body as a burial ground. who knows it is a minefield. who can feel it becoming a forgotten land, that no one who has loved him has touched. this boy thinks they wouldn't want to.

II.
try on the boy who digs graves in himself. who sets off the mines. who tries to forget the body that's been so hurt by obliterating it. this boy wishes no one would notice the marks he leaves, because they never noticed the marks anyone else left.

III.
try on the boy who feels guilty. because he put more value in what the people who hated him thought of his body than the ones who love him. because he flinched from the ones who loved him even though he wanted their touch, wanted to know if he really was a body and not a wasteland.

I.
try on the boy who doesn't know what kissing is. just that he can't tell anyone. can't show anyone. this boy thinks he's supposed to shake.

II.
try on the boy who tries to reclaim his own lips. who gives up. and instead, he tries to tear them off for years. he tries to make others help him. he tries to drink things that burn until he can't feel them.

III.
try on the boy who kisses in the dark and can see this one clearer than any other. he isn't afraid or shaking or intoxicated. it burns nonetheless. he stares at this boy he can't see, this boy who knows what he's done to his own mouth and somehow isn't appalled. who somehow wants to be the first good thing to touch him.

I.
try on the boy who writes, in his head, on his wall, on the bathroom counter, on himself, rarely in his books

II.
try on the boy who draws, the things he loves and the things he hates and the things he wishes he still cared about and the things he wishes he could hate

III.
try on the boy who carves, in wooden chairs, in tree flesh, in his own

I.
try on the boy who wears all black and a chain
hide in the darkness when you're afraid people might see you as something else
pull on the chain when you want to hurt yourself, say it doesn't count

II.
try on the boy who wears at least three layers at any given time
let no one see you, not you, not anyone
forget what your body is
feel safe

III.
try on the boy who wears bandages on his arms and legs and chest
feel everything hurt as it heals
take the bandages off your chest because you can feel it too much
you want nothing more than to ignore it
take the bandages off your arms and legs
you want to hurt, at least it will distract from the pain of your unharmed chest

you kept me alive
i think
i think that was living
there was breathing, but there was no hope
and i really can’t blame you for any of this

but you can’t blame me for not wanting a future with you,
when you never gave me a future in the first place

and i can’t hate you, or forget you
i can’t be your stranger, i can’t be your regret
but maybe i already am

i don’t know if i love you
i know this is all i had, but nothing i want, so i why can’t i let go?
i’m beginning to think i trust you,

i thought if love meant trust, then trust meant love
but now,
i trust you not to worry about me
i trust you not to question me, not to understand me
i could tell you anything,
just because you wouldn’t care

i trust you,
i feel like,
one trusts a stranger

i.
cup your hand underneath a flower, delicate
rest your hand, fingers splayed around on a neck, on a chest,
on a check

ii.
a feeling so strong in your chest it might spill over,
has always meant danger, anger, control
please push
down avoid
this is something new something
soft so much of something soft

iii.
this softness is often terrifying in its unfamiliarity

VII.
because I used to be so afraid of everything of failing of crying of breaking of destroying of being hated of hating of feeling but I nearly failed everything this time and I'm tearing everything apart but I still can't feel anything enough to write anything cohesive because I don't really know who I am anymore

VIII.
because you're not supposed to break down at 2:32pm regardless of whether or not time is a human construct light isn't and you're not supposed to be this sad in the light Sam you're not you're not Sam you're not

IX.
because you can never you can never ever ever ever say anything that describes how you feel as well as songs can because you're not artistic

X.
because everyone you love is an artist or art and you will never be either

XI.
because you can never be constant you can never be in or out of control you can never even be inconstant either you can never be anything real or unreal you can never be sad about normal things

XII.
because you failed at even failing you failed at convincing everyone you were okay you failed at being loveable you failed at crying like all the things you do

XIII.
because you hate everything you've become and everything you've always been and you hate being stagnant and you hate change because you hate people seeing you

XIV.
because you wrote 'be sad' and it looked like dead because you wrote 'crying' and it looked like life

XV.
because you never wrote anything you were supposed to

XVI.
because you told him everyone told you you couldn't and he got mad on your behalf and you let him but you were really the only one who convinced yourself of that

XVII.
because you told her you loved her and you don't know if you were lying, you just wanted her alive and to you that means the same thing, like yeah you love her, just not the way she wants you too

XVIII.
because this is something that's only hurt me, that will never make me feel better

XIX.
because you really thought you would never get here

**.
because this is the best feeling in the world

XXI.
changing

XXII.
because you spent years discovering different agonies and you've decided the worst is the constant the unchanging the one that has no end and no result because you can't escape

XXIII.
because deep down you know this is self care this sleeping this hiding this crying this writing because even if it hurts it's a change

XXIV.
because you thought you were invalid for even at your worst you couldn't help but think about getting better so maybe that wasn't the worst but you know now you always just thought of change be it good or bad

XXV.
because you really honestly truly and surely don't believe you can make the right decision about getting better or worse without help

XXVI.
because you haven't gotten better yet and that would be a change but you also haven't gotten to rock bottom yet and that would be a change

XXVI.
because you have to make a decision now

XXVIII.
because your wrist is cramped up and everything's so temporary but you just want permanent change you want change so bad

XXIX.
because you want to ruin yourself  but how can you do that and also help everyone else

***.
because it's always so tempting to say you can stop caring and it's always so tempting to say you can take care of them while ruining yourself

XXXI.
because you really don't know how anyone gets better or if they do

XXXII.
because you know to be okay you'll have to be there for yourself, too and nothing has ever seemed so impossible as this

XXXIII.
because really you know they'll be okay without you because you're not entirely necessary

XXXIV.
because you don't want to be necessary not really because you don't trust yourself but also you do because then you'd have a reason to stay but you really don't know if you want that either

XXXV.
because you can see the future coming but you can't see yourself and you've always struggled with faith

XXXVI.
because you really don't want to hurt them you just still cant believe that anyone cares enough to be hurt when you hurt yourself

XXXVII.
because every new year you say you'll get better and you don't you still don't know if you should be independent of arbitrary dates that you trust so much even if they've never helped you

XXXIII.
because it hurts so much either way

XXXIV.
you'll just have to decide which you prefer

XXXV.
because you really gotta put more faith in rough drafts

XXXVI.
because you always want everything to be perfect but you know by now it won't be

XXXVII.
because these thoughts don't even really scare you anymore or maybe you're used to being afraid, but you know you'll stay, even if this place is unchanging

XXXVIII.
because that's only half the battle sometimes,
this times its not even that

XXXIX.
because you've never been this close to both life and death at the same time

XL.
because you're not afraid anymore to make rash decision you think you should fear what might happen because of that

XLI.
because, for now, the solution- the next step, is changing everything

XLII.
because until now changing has only meant covering up better

XLIII.
because maybe you can get better on your own, and maybe you can't

XLIV.
but the point is if you reach out you will never know if you could have done this independently, but if you cant do it on your own and you still try,

XLV.
because I know,
it's okay to reach out for help but,
is it okay to hold on?

you, are unpredictable
your voice, easily miss-able
most often, your corrections are merely suggestions
you cannot order people in a language they do not speak,
you cannot translate,
you, cannot, they, cannot, understand

I.
why do you think you are the exception?

II.
because that's not how the story goes?

III.
because surely that, couldn't have been the right name for it

V.
you can't call it that because you're supposed to remember, if you can't forget it why can't you remember the details? why can't you remember anything except that? why can't you?

VI.
maybe he didn't even know you didn't want that, you never said so, never said no,

VII.
no he never,

IIX.
asked

I.
because I'd rather be sad in this small dark place and blame it on the dark,
than be sad out in the world and have nothing to blame but myself

II.
because I can't remember any other feeling

III.
because maybe recovery isn't for me

IV.
because maybe okay isn't for me

V.
because maybe happy isn't for me

VI.
maybe it never was

I.
maybe we could have been happy

II.
if we had given it a chance

III.
if you had tried, and I had let you

IV.
I'm going to blame myself

V.
but you already knew that

what do you look like?
you look like stale air and dusty doorways that haven't seen you in what seems like years
you look like tearing up over nothing and you look like labored breathing
you look cold, shivering and quaking
but you don't look like you're trying
you don't look empty and you don't look heavy
you don't look like a headache, you don't look like a stomach silently folding itself silently pulling you down
you don't look like burning eyes
and you don't look numb, no, you don't look numb at all

(you are invisibly striving,
but visibly failing)

there's not a single word left,
when nothing changes
and you realize you were always too far gone

you have always been in too deep,
and  farther, much farther than anyone wants to be for you

I.
you were so, loved
adored so,
softly

II.
he loved you so and he said forever,
he wanted your forever

III.
he loved you when he saw the morning light and when he heard something beautiful he always thought of your voice he wanted to tell you everything and he did

IV.
he was shaky as a loose leaf and you were so very calming, you were so safe, you were so safe, you were so safe

V.
he still thought you were so safe when people tell him,
he sounds afraid when he talks about you

VI.
and you were so loved,
and you were so angry

VII.
this was not the love you wanted, not the person you wanted it from, and who could blame you, really

I.
try on the boy who is brave enough to put his hands in the fire

II.
try on the boy who is scared enough to put the fire in him

III.
try on the boy that is tired enough to let the ashes cover him