She closed her eyes
Then she realized
That behind her blinds
Lies the disguise.
In this moment in time
Her soul aligns
With abstract designs.
She binds her cries
And soft spoken lies
And sends them to the sky
Where they can be alive.
She rests with the wings
Of a butterfly.
But never knew why
No one taught her to fly.
She let her soul cry
In the middle of the night
And when it was time for goodbye,
She failed to reply.

i find that sometimes in the midst of feeling like i am
alright
something creeps up the back of my neck like a
tidal wave of anticipation that tastes sour like the church wine
i've only had once
in a time when i was too young to realize that
it's only for those that believe
i find that i am
philisophically bound to repeat the
same things
over and over
and over and
over and over
until it's all just bleeding words
and gaping fingerprint spaces
and maybe that means that you were never right for me
or maybe it means that you've gone and
left me incomplete
i can't tell if being able to survive without you now
means i'm falling into a glacier of used-to-be
tailspining break-me-jaggedly affection that somehow
is subdued yet no less disasterous
i hold myself to the achingly high standard of being able to be fine
all on my own
yet still expecting someone to somehow know
that i need them
to hold my hand and press the tears from my eyes with their weathered thumbs
rain is the only weather i ever feel safe in
and in my eyes there are black rings around blue rings around white
feelings of being lost in the mindset
that i am no more than the flower at the end of field
forgotten and left to the wind for no other reason than because
my distance makes me undesirable
i am shaking shifting shattering stinging slipping stumbling stuttering still
wrapped in words of endlessly undefinition
sighing like god himself has pressed a hand too hard to my ribs
pressed myself out of my lungs and snatched my spirit around the neck
not even my shadows can breathe in the dark
of never-finding-the-exit hallways and tripping-through-hours staircases
i am dash-dash-dash-dash-dash-dash-dash-dash
take a pair of scissors to my theories with your unwavering
slash-slash-slash-slash-slash-slash-slash-slash
no trembling breaths no warm gentle touch no proof for myself no belief
in the surroundings of my brain
i am lost in the week like i am lost in my weight
the numbers keep shifting and they never go up never go up never go up
i waited so long to be small like the small people who always got the love
that i knew would never be meant for me
small like the amount of time i am fearless
small like the things that i wished to be
and now that i am small it seems that small is all i can be
i take it back take it back take it back all the way to that january morning in the
dentist waiting room when i first declared my wish
take it back take it back take it back
like the moment your fingers slipped through mine took me back to the first time
i got to understand what it means to drip drip drip
overwhelming desire
i would have kissed you that night only if you had whispered the want for it
in my mouth
but there is a deeply rooted problem in my branches that has stemmed not from the earth
but from the people taking care of my limbs
and leaves and sometimes they forget that i am a tree and maybe the reason
the dead things decay is because only when left abandoned do we really
start to understand what it means to fade
or maybe like words fingers run over they die simply from the weight
of love never ceasing
i have so many disconnected theories and maybe the reason i don't know how to understand
myself is because
i am a cause and effect action and reaction question and answer statement and reply all
rolled into a chest with ribs that are too small to cage the
confusion overflowing from inside
when i say i am a tidal wave i do not mean that i am good to catch a surf
i mean i am wipe-out-your-world-in-five-seconds-flat terrifying
do not rest easy on my shores
i have no idea how to swim and i would never
ask you to drown with me

I AM IN A STATE
OF URBAN DECAY
FALLING APART IN FRAYING
STRANDS OF LAST STANDS THAT
NEVER SEEM TO BE THE END
MEET ME ON THE BATTLEFIELD
BECAUSE WE'RE BOTH TOO SHARP TO BE
AT PEACE ON OUR KNEES
BUT TOO RESTLESS SHAKING ORBIT
TO NOT COME TO BLOWS
WITH OURSELVES
SHATTER EVERY INSULT YOU'VE SEEN
ECHOED ON MY FACE BECAUSE
MIRRORS DEFLECT AND I HAVE A TENDENCY
TO BOUNCE BACK
ON TUESDAY MORNINGS I BLEED PAPERTHIN
THAT WAS THE FIRST DAY I KNEW HOW TO
LONG FOR YOU
AND I HAVE EVERY DAY SINCE
I'M METAPHORICALLY BOUND TO WRITE
THE THINGS I WISH I'D SAY
YOU WERE NEVER MY LOVER
BUT I HAVE LOVED YOU EVERY DAY