I want to hold you in my arms but I can't.
though I can feel the ache in my teres' as I hold them out,
hoping you'll change your mind and bury yourself in them.
hoping you'll find comfort with your face in my neck again,
kissing me relentlessly and telling me you love me,
telling me you love me from your soul to mine.
but we laugh and cover it up,
cover up the fears that we may be more than what we would prefer,
that there's more beneath our hearts,
more that wants to reach out and touch the cold, graveyards in us.
each headstone an emotion we left behind with the memories in the caskets below.
we want to take shovels and cover them in 6 feet of dirt.
we want to tear our nails trying to open each casket and say the headstones' names to each of them.
and we want to caress and heal each individual wound and scar the other carries,
we want to kiss them and watch them fold into new skin.
we want the power to protect each sunrise and sunset the other may behold some day.
we want to reach into the ocean of the others presence and pull up all the treasures below.
we want to show the other the beauty of their depths,
the trenches with new discoveries of the corals we may hold deep down
and the tropical beaches where our shells shine.
we want to uncover each other from each other.

but truly,
I just want your arms with mine, in that romantic way you said we had to give up.
I want the heart you have.
I wish I was good enough for that heart,
I wonder what I'm missing.
I will always wonder if I'm good enough.
why you can't make that decision?
I know it's from her,
but why can't I surpass that?
what do I lack?
which shell isn't bright enough?
which scar is too ugly?
which wound hurts too much?
which casket is too *****?
which headstone is too large?
is my graveyard too vast?
which cavern is too deep?
which trench is drowning you?
which sunrise isn't beautiful enough?
which sunset is too dark?
which star isn't in your constellation?
is my sun too hot?
is the moon too low?
which galaxy is too far?

what could I have done?
can I?
am I good enough to fix anything for you?

the desire to unwrap your ego, imagination, and ingenuity
drives me to heights I have not seen.
as I can't look at the ground when I search for you, but always looking up high above me.
you are a flower on a hill.
a tall sunflower, always reaching to the sun and its stars.
sunflowers don't look down away from its sun,
for looking down destroys their shine.
it is why you do not see me, looking up at you while you look to the sky

"Unfortunately, honey, the sunflowers still face the sun
and the rivers run toward the oceans.
Our neighbors do grow old,
and the clouds still make rain.
City lights pollute our sky's natural beauty
while we pollute our hearts in the same darkness.
So, you know, we stay pessimistic in a world that is quickly dying,
and we don't recognize things until they've disappeared.
We don't love enough for what little life we're given,
and we leave a scar once we're gone.

So, we must remember that the optimistic sun is made for the flowers,
and the rivers and ocean are but the same water.
Our neighbors see us grow too,
and the same clouds make rain for those sunflowers
just as we are made for each other.
To see each other and touch their hearts, too.
The hearts that fill up the dark.
The city will light our way home,
and the sky has stars in the dark.

It can go two ways, you see.
Do not forget the other side,
what we cannot see,
what we forget.
We are victims of this,
but the world is your oyster.
And your mind it is what you make it."

will my day change if the moon is out at 11:37 in the morning
and the sun at 1:02 at night?

will my feelings change with the wind or the waves?

I reek of abhorrence
and I taste like the comets in hell I've sent for you.

my skin is like sandpaper
as you scratch it to climb up from the ladder at the bottom.

I see your face filled with terror
and I hear the flames lick your feet as you slip
farther
and farther down.

anger is felt in the stomach
the core of our bodies.

it eats your heart
and feeds your body fire.

our rose colored world becomes red hot
and we see flames atop our enemies heads.

our words bite off heads
and cut through spears,
we seethe with danger.

we feel ultimate control
and power.
power to tear down the others.
power to eat them alive.
power to destroy the sun,
and become it with our burning heart
that turned to ash when we forgot our human innocence,
that we gave up to let out anger drive us.

however
forget not that the control and power
is an illusion.
a lie to keep yourself in check
when you're the most insecure person in the room.
let your anger humble you.

anger is felt in the core,
but is driven by the soul
and stems from betrayal.

what's it like to have a gun to your head?
the feeling of the cold barrel pushed up against your hair,
knowing that inside that barrel is a future that rides the line you didn't always think you'd walk.
the wideness of that barrel, you can feel it's exact measurements on your skull.
the gaping hole in the center of the tube, that weightless piece against you,
but only physically weightless.
the heaviness of the weapon becomes
as heavy as your heart.

is it the part of the power in the trigger against your hand?
or is it the knowledge of the chemistry inside that gun,
that's pushing against your hand,
like your palm and finger with that gun have a newfound power?
is it a horrifying power?
is it peaceful?
is it aggressive?
loud?
is it as quick as your instincts?
the flip of the coin,
as quick as your mind changes?
is it as exhilarating as you wanted?
or as deadly as you thought?
is the weight of the bullets as much as the potential you have,
that you so easily dispose of?
so easily reject?

which is it, Isa?

a long time ago,
my friend killed himself
because all of his friends were too far away.
I saw suicide as weak
cowardly
and selfish.
I'm a hypocrite,
and I also understand his reasoning.
because my friends are too far away too.
distance does not always strengthen the heart, does it,
my lost and gone friend?

i can't say i'm going to be sad for you to get another girl
since i'm the one who pushed you away.
i can't be frustrated when i'm rooting for you
but i also want you to want me
when we both know you can't have me.
i just want to be wanted,
and you want me the most
right now.

the moon loves us so much,
it circles us day and night.
it comes in new phases
all the time,
and we still think it's beautiful
we still stare at it in wonder
and love it nonetheless.
no matter what it is.

why can't we accept ourselves at all phases as well?
why can't we embrace our cycles?

"I appreciate you."
"And what about me do you appreciate?"
she looked down,
"A lot of people don't have enough guts to look the unknown in the eye,
and validate it.
You face it. You face the unknown."
I smiled,
thinking that reality must come someday,
so why would I ever avoid it?

"I appreciate your honesty with reality" she said.
she didn't realize she was she same as me, did she?

i wonder
how long will it take for me to die?
how long will the pain last
in my mind
in my bones.
oh i feel it everywhere,
it reverberates in my body,
my tiny, weak and frail little body.
how long will it persist
in scarring me
front and back.

my mind, a strong fortress.
so full of imagination and thoughts
beyond your wildest dreams,
maybe in them too.
intoxicated with love and adoration
for people and their souls.
their beautiful and intricate thoughts.

but my body
eating itself alive
and rejecting itself.
beating itself with a hammer.
like self harm,
but it hurts both of us.

but i love it so much,
i take such good care of it
i try so hard...
i try so hard to be gentle
and give it all love i can find.
i know no one treats you very well,
but i try so hard.

is it not enough?

am i not enough, again?

i won't make it to see you love me,
i'm trying to die.

we age as quickly as our world,
she aged as quickly as the stars.
her numbers were short,
but her death was long.
I think I loved her just as long.

she monologued to me,
I was beside her bed.
I could tell that this monologue wasn't meant for me,
it was meant for the stars.
I remember she talked to them a lot,
she thought they were some supernatural beings,
so they would "get it" more than we would.
she probably wasn't wrong, I got in the habit of it too eventually, after she passed of course.
since I knew I was talking to her too up there.

she wasn't talking about anything in particular,
she often didn't,
and I can't exactly recall everything she said,
her words seemed so sacred.
not meant for me to repeat by count.
but at the end of her monologue, she started directing it at me.
telling me that "the universe was made to be seen by your eyes"
and that I was worth a thousand lifetimes.
she never clarified what she meant,
but I took it as if she was telling me that
the world is so beautiful
and so much changes
but I'm beautiful too,
and the changes we both make
are made to be seen together.
the stars and I were made for each other.

what do you see when you see them?
their smile? is it something about their personality? tell me.


now, what do you taste when you think of them? is it their body? or a food that tastes like a memory of them? tell me that, too.


what do you hear when you think of them? their laugh? their favorite song? their sleep talking? keep going.


what do you feel when you think of them? their hands? their heartbeat? talk to me.


now, what do you smell when you think of them? their own smell? maybe their favorite flower? tell me.

learning to surrender your body
unwillingly
is not easy.

it feels like you're separating,
body and soul becoming detached.
it's not giving it to your love,
to be cradled in sweet delicate human arms.

instead you feel as though
no human arms can hold you,
because you are a shell corpse
with a conscience and some appearance.
like you're impersonating someone,
with the disease as the main body
human is second in command.

learning to surrender your body
unwillingly
is not easy.

it's learning to be dependent.
it's learning to know you aren't always in control.
it's learning to acknowledge your aren't always okay,
and learning to be okay with that.

i wanna hurt.
maybe me,
maybe someone else.
but it's all i know,
and i want familiarity.

I knew I was numbered from 1-18
when you were on a 1-100 scale.
I knew I couldn't see the stars paint the sky again, but they could see me.
maybe that was enough.

I knew it wasn't,
we
knew it wasn't.

god I can feel your eyes pour into my body while you watch me sleep
following every skin line down to the bone

I feel naked
despite I'm fully clothed
and covered in a blanket.

I can feel you reading my muscle movements like they're pages and I'm the book
I can feel your ears trying to pick up the sound of my heart
and you say it beats hard

and I tell you
of course it does
it's trying to keep me alive
and that's hard
but I'm not even lying
because it's hard to keep myself sane
while you're ******* me with your mind and holding my heart with your eyes
while you're tracing my razor sharp burning edges with your gentle and soft fingers
while you're trying to cover me with your eyes
and I haven't even moved a muscle since I fell asleep in your arms.

I used to
count
the days between when he
yelled at me
and when he didn't.
when he asked for ***
when he asked me to
leave my home
at 2 am
to **** me.
though I said no.

when he used to tell me
that what God I believed
was stupid
and wrong
and it was
why
I was so ignorant.
close minded
small
and insignificant

that if my health
wasn't as bad
as his sister's friend,
it didn't matter.
because someone else was suffering
so I don't need help.
not my physical body
that was spontaneously trying to die
mattered at all.

but he would need it if he wanted *** again anyways.

"I don't know" was not no.
"I don't want to" wasn't no.
that if it was said two weeks ago
didn't count now
then it still wasn't a
no.

I wasn't to be trusted.
so track my location,
track what I said to any ears
that weren't yours
"is she lying?"
"is she cheating?"
"is she gone?"

he would yell and yell and yell at me until I was bawling on my tile floor
wondering when I could ever be happy again
with a thousand diseases and the pressure
of giving that diseased body to you.

because you would need it if you wanted *** again anyways.

because even though you were absolute trash
but I believed you were God
I ended up asking myself,
"if he can't love me,
who will?"
if even garbage
doesn't want me,
what
will want me?

who will want me?

I'm less than garbage.
now,
I'm less
than
you.

once you love someone, you feel like it can only be them.
and I'm in love without you.
but effort is always rewarded in every endeavor but love.

so *******.

I knew I couldn't see the world breathe it into him anymore
with me gone now,
but maybe it could watch me breathe mine out of me,
and give it to him instead.

and you sit there
on your bed
at 1:40
in the morning
when you start wondering
how
much you're worth.
and it's sad.

because you never thought
that you needed to know
who
you're worth to
but you do.

and you cry because
you don't know.
you want to

but you don't know
how much
you mean
to yourself.
all you do know
is that it's close
to zero
and you don't want that.

but it's there.

and it's important
to take a moment
to realize that
it's true
that's how you feel

you can't deny it.
because you would be lying.
and that never did
anyone
any good.

it's there.

engraved
as a cut on your heart
and as dried blood
on your soul.

and it's sad
but it's there.

I'm suffocating on my heart that's stuck in my throat
because the tears streaming down my cracked face
started to drown the stars that bloomed in my head.
those stars that lit up my most midnight of skies.
the infinite universe that you split open in my mind
was what showed me the true galaxy past my dulled nebulas.
because you told me "the universe was made
just to be seen by my eyes".
the universe you made with my bloodied hands.

and when you told me this,
for a split second
I could see colors again
and the nights didn't seem so lonely
in that galaxy
and my heart didn't choke anymore
on my stained stars.

I could never make anything brighter
or more real
than the love you showed me I could have again.

"See, I don't always have that luxury. . .
I don't get to play with his fingers while our hands are clasped together,
or mess up his hair because it looks soft.
I can't feel the shape of my body mold perfectly with his in a hug,
or feel his slightly chapped lips kiss my cheek when I do something silly,
or even steal his glasses, hoping he'll chase me around to get them back.
I can't hear his heartbeat when I lay on him,
or smell him whenever we fall asleep on each other.
I don't get to see him look me in the eyes when we talk face-to-face,
or compare our heights side-by-side in the mirror,
or have him try on my clothes to find that they're way too small and girly.
I can't look at him from a side profile while we watch TV,
or watch him make us a snack at midnight.

Instead, I have to look at my camera, and not those ever changing blue, green, and grey eyes.
Instead, I think about him while I walk my school halls and wonder what his weather is like.
Instead, I have to touch and hold my own hands where his would be.
Instead, I have to cry into the hoodie I stole that only has a drop of his scent left on it.
Instead, I spend my time online finding the cheapest plane ticket to go see him.
Instead, I stay up until 2:17 in the morning because I find myself missing his lips.
Instead, I dream of the day we can be together without 650+ miles between us.

I knew this pain would be here,
I knew it would haunt me.
And I knew it would hurt like my soul was being torn into a thousand pieces,
and my heart was bleeding onto my skin from the inside out.
And I knew that when things go wrong back at home, we won't always be there to hold the other.
But if this is what it takes to be with the person who makes me want to wake up to see the sun shine again,
if this is what it takes to be with the man that makes me want to live when I wanted to be thrown in a box with the oxygen off,
if this is what it takes to be with the one who showed me that love wasn't dead,
and pulled me out when I was trapped in my thoughts,
to feel what true love is?
oh I'll do it all. . . for him and me.

You know?"

your mind wanders the empty halls at night
I try to find you, racing the darkness to fight.
you push me away with your raging silence
I can feel your silent violence.

or is it only me?

I look for your soul in the darkest black
but you've buried your stain inside the plaque.
I reach for your broken, beating heart
but you went back, back to the start

or is it just my imagination?

I can't seem to find where your thoughts run
you don't seem to care, you want to bargain.
bargain your lies for your presence
when all I feel is your absence.

or is it just me?

I want to hold your heart
and cradle your soul
but how can I be on your art
if you never let me give you console?

or am I wrong?

I want you to understand
that I'm here to stay, stay as planned.
why can't you believe me?
I won't leave you, didn't we agree?

or was that my promise to me?

why do you push me away?
I just want you to stay...
my heart cries in the morning dew,
but where,
where are you?



please come here and understand I love you and I won't live without you.

my tears speak
more than
my words

my screaming
yells louder than
my thoughts

my silence
stands longer than
my body

words find a blank
for I cannot write
when I have written
it all
before

how does one
rewrite their life
when there was nothing
but everything
to write?

it's like my words
forgot me
somewhere along
the line of mental stability
or my identity
or what it was

unless I just
don't know
how to say it anymore


where did they go?

We only spend our life fretting the details,
Chasing our tails,
Trying to fight our demons behind our nails.

But only if they face you can you fight the crow.
Only if they step in front of you can you truly know.

But do you fight them,
Or hide away?
But do they show themselves,
Or hide away?
But are they more afraid than you,
Or is it childsplay?


The question lingers for one too long,
You have let it consume you
And lose the demon lifelong,
But yourself too.

Glass pieces falls from you,
You search the world for them,
But they never show.
You fall into the shadow the pieces left behind,
And you wonder.

Wonder if he ever knew,
How much you cared about him,
How deep the shadow became when he left,
How you thought about him at night,
When the cries you made were the only sound the world could hear.

We don’t really know if he cared or not,
And the ignorance?
It'll break us.

do you hear that?
it's the sound of her silent tears falling into her abyss

do you see that?
it's the broken glass she dropped when she tried to replace her broken heart

do you smell that?
it's the blood she shed when she went looking for her feelings on her flesh where she wore them

do you feel that?
it's the empty dark she felt when she murdered her trust for love

do you taste that?
it's the regret she swallows everyday to say it will be okay


right?

Less than dirt,
More than hurt,
What am I doing here?

Less than who I want to be,
More than I want to see,
Who put me here?

Less than reality holds,
More than the fantasy pulls,
Where am I now?

Less than a moth’s flight,
More than the soul’s blight,
How did I end up here?

Less than a music box tune,
More than the screaming moon,
Why am I feeling this?

Less than a cracked crown,
More than an emotional breakdown,
When will it stop?

Who am I to you?
I have never tasted your light,
But only ever felt my blight.

Who am I to you?
I fear you will leave me
And I will be left to grieve
For it has happened once before,
And you might do it again once more.

Who am I to you?
Will he answer me true?
I fear he will bid me adieu...

Who am I to you?
Will you forsake me again?
Will I become a stain?

He is unreadable,
And I am left to wonder,
Who am I to you?

repression.
this is the block.
it comes in at 3 o'clock
in the morning when you know it is empty,
it becomes the modus vivendi

repression.
it devours you.
taints you that rouge.
quiet becomes the switch that keeps them
crying.

repression.
like a cigarette passed around
we share it, not making a sound.
the smoke rising
and the sorrow is chastising.

repression.
the words lost in the silence
yet blooming with the violets.

repression.
there is nothing to say.
it seems like it is okay.
you shut everyone away

and lock them with the words you cannot find.