"I love you dearly..."
You spoke those four words to me countless times,
like a mother should
but a mother also should notice
the harsh words that follow
that feel like a bullet her daughter's chest.
"You're tearing this family apart."
"Maybe you should have killed yourself."
"You're going to ruin Christmas."
"Nothing is wrong with you."
And how do you not notice the added bracelets?
Or see how a light's always on in my room in
the crazy hours of the night when you're  
creeping around for another swallow of pills?
Or how I lock my door when I go to a
friend's house so you don't go in there?
You told me you wanted to jump in front of a car.
A train.
Overdose.
You say we don't care.
Is that why you treat me this way?
I'm numb now, Mom.
I feel nothing.
You've done it again.
I thought it was over,
when I just started to trust you.
But now?
Now I don't trust you.
Or anybody.

You




















































Me

i will stop writing poetry like a eulogy when you start making me feel alive

Staring at death right in face.
I never would have imagined what it feels like to loose everything.
I never thought I would know what empty space felt like.
I never thought it would end up being me.
The girl with everything figured out now has dark thoughts. Is always haunted by thoughts and feeling nothing.
I never thought I wouldn't be able to breathe, but it feels as if life is suffocating me.

So I drink. I drink to fill the void. But it never seems to leave me alone.

There's no one to turn to except the monsters in my head. Burning every bridge. So I stand on the opposite side and watch them go up in flames.
I stand there in hopes that maybe someone will hear my cries.

But if a depressed girl screams and everyone is around to hear it,
Did she really scream at all?

-a.

I could write about your eyes,
your smile, your laugh,
your voice, your face,
your scent, etc., etc..
I could go on for days and days,
about your nose, your hands,
your hair, your chest.
Metaphor after metaphor
I could create
a thousand words about the way
you move, you kiss, you hold my hand...
I could.
I could.
I won't.
I'll write instead
about your brain,
about the way you make me feel,
the way you talk about the stuff you like,
the way you think,
or I could just reduce it
to those simple words
dopamine
serotonin
oxytocin

In general,
you leave me out of breath.