Flowers are growing
on my body where your hands
touched me last time.

One day you will cry and one you will sing
But one only.
Any other is a dream, an illusion conjured by an unbearable reality.
You will learn to love
and cry
but only once.

Have you ever felt
so sad
been sad for so long
you dont even remember when it first started
so sad that you dont know what hapiness is anymore
so sad that there are no more tears to cry out
so sad that your "friends" have accepted that you dont contribute to their conversations because youre just so sad
so sad that your mom stopped knocking on your door to check if youre okay
so sad that you cant even explain why the bags under your eyes are huge
so sad that the word sad is part of your personality
just so sad
always so sad

You were one of my mistakes but not all my mistakes are mistakes.

let out into some miniscule town
by someone else's proportionality,
here is always smaller than somewhere
bigger. there are always more people
somewhere else. there are less people
hiding, like me. and i'm left convinced
still, no matter the permanence of what
i'd say or you'd feel, you'll find someone
new and better, or old and more
familiar (this keeps happening,
the same patterns repeat, the inside
of my head reels). so, don't bother
assuaging my fears. somehow,
by this point, they are mostly what
compose me. i'll fall apart with or
without them. with or without you.
it all hurts.
                   and i can't keep it together.
not today. i burnt my self-esteem, by
my own spark. everything tore me
apart. a jigsaw puzzle, returned to pieces.
but i don't fit: not into anyone's plan.
not into any social hierarchy. not
into my own palm. i'll let you cut off
chunks of me, let you cram me into
where you think i should fit. sure.
but you might not allay my definitions.
i'm sorry.
spelt out s-a-d, i'll collapse into the
same heap. you can make me happy
for a day (or four years). sure.
(but it's no good, if i still hate me.)