"Don't catch yourself on fire to keep another person warm."
Your voice, sharp like the match that struck
Setting me ablaze the day that we drove
Away from my own personal hell.
You rescued me.

So what was I supposed to do,
Starve myself of oxygen
As I let you breathe every semblance
Of new life in to me?

No. But I burned up so quickly.
Damaged people loving damaged people,
Both you nor I could anticipate the way
That we would let our insecurities tear us apart
Not you, not me, only what they did to us.
"Maybe in another time, another place.."
When you packed your things and left me
For the sunshine of California
Where I knew you would help so many other things spark.

But not me.
Left behind with a mouth full of soot
Choking on the pain of going on without you
I gave you everything that was left of me
All so you could chase your dreams
I never asked to be repaid
A small sacrifice for the fire you set
That willed me to live again in the first place
Just hoped that one day you would still speak of me
After all of the ashes were swept away by the high tide of my
Spilling of guts, hoping you still cared
Hoping you would come back like you said, to make sure I was okay.
"We'll still be the best of friends, who knows what the future holds."
A promise and a gift, both broken the day you drove away from Apt D416

I heard you are married now.
I am not angry that you found happiness.
Nor am I sad. My care for you remains,
Distant as a memory
In articles and photographs about such a fire, forever marked in history
But what if it wasn't? 2 years, gone.
All of our existence simply burnt up in it
Your memory of me, instead filed away with the 'things I can't speak on' with the new flame
And me.. I am empty
Because of all the things you taught me
It was never how to water myself so I
Could grow through the ruins that remain

I won't be bitter that you have everything
That I laid our foundation for
At least one of us learned to rebuild
After such a devastation
I've just had a hard time learning to accept
That withering of being erased.

I'm sorry that I didn't send you that Christmas card.
It's just that...
It took me 4 weeks to buy it.
By the time I peeled myself from bed,
A shaking hand to the pale canvas of my face
Fabricating an abstract of a smile,
Floating through aisle after aisle like a ghost.
I found them.
They were on clearance.
I bought the last ones.

I wanted to tell you that I
was looking forward to sending it.
When I got yours, I smiled and then I cried
because how little effort does it take
for something that can impact
someone so much?
And how pitiful I must be
to not be able to follow through at all..

'You should follow through'
I'd tell it to anyone, even myself
Paper to pen, time and time again
Scratch it like nails against my arms with
Crippling anxiety at the thought of
Receiving a stamp of judgment
All for the postage.

And I should, follow through, I mean..
with all of those things I said I would do
before I got too tired, or too busy, or
laid in bed for 4 days straight,
thinking about all of those things that I should do,
And how all of those things
might impact you ..
or the other people that I love,
who might not understand why I do nothing
when push comes to shove.


Self sabotage is the only way
I know how to express my apathy.
But I'm trying this way instead.
I'm not very good with words,
but maybe if I can get them out of my head ..

'It's just a card.'
It might be what you'll say
And I know you would forgive me, at the end of the day..

Truthfully I'm not really sure what I am saying here
I guess I just want to make things clear.
It's not that I don't care, it's that you shouldn't
But I'm glad that you do
And had I been better, what I would of said to you ..
Merry Christmas.
I love you.
Thank you for being my friend.
With you, I feel less alone.

momentary muse
ephemeral excitement
cursory conversations

come and go
come and go
come and go
never stay

...or explain
the disdain
we feign
it's in vain

head hits the pillow
the dream is gone
hand grabs the pen
the ink has drawn
heart meets the sleeve
we've become a pawn

searching for
the meeting
the needing
superseding
the retreating
the fleeting

come and go
come and go
come and go
they never stay.

it was the night before christmas, alone in my room
i found myself longing to remain in this tomb
blankets and pillows tossed about without care
knowing with sunrise, the joyous will stare
tossing and turning, alone in my bed
visions of the merry danced in my head
it's not that i'm sad, at best perhaps apathy
a longing to be something but this walking tragedy

so i march and i move, straight path to the corner
a wind up toy run dry, much to my horror
part of me still longs for my lost childlike wonder
part of me is hit with this realization of sonder

there are people like you, there are people like me
there are people all over like us that we just cannot see
they stay up til dawn, perfecting their masks
checking their list twice, completing the tasks
practice makes perfect, they study their smile
knowing they must try harder, must not appear vile

for it's not that i don't wish to celebrate this joy
just that peeling myself from bed feels like a ploy
but still i press on as the night draws to a close
knowing that when the sun comes, i must ignore the lows

and for anyone out there who can relate to this tale,
i wish you slumber, a momentary relief from your ail
you are not out of mind, even if you are out of sight
happy christmas to all, and to the lonely - goodnight.

Somber silence
    Cascading
          Encapsulating

Corrupt me
    Defile me
         Persuade me
in to capitulation
into your loving
              ....warmth:
Enveloping
     Entwining
            Embracing

this is not pulling the trigger
this is waving the white flag
on the ship that has long since been

Sailing then
            Sinking and
I would like to stay afloat
      Yet drift far enough away that
I no longer have to see the shore that can

Chew me up
       Spit me out
              Swallow me whole

lure me with lullabies in to the dark
this never ending tunnel of
fabricated blithe
hammer chest  in my ears
pounding to the rhythm of

You & I. Together again:
      Crevasse canvas of
             Euphoric enigma
                    Dazed desires

A sea-sick stomach will steady
        Storms and speculations
               Heartbeat acceleration
                    Black ocean; destination

Repent
     Reclaim
          Relapse.
my love has never failed me.

This is my day. It’s like every other day, except it’s mine.

I never wanted it. I spent most of my life trying to give it away. It was five years ago when a promise of forever convinced me that I should hold on to it, save my life for one more day, save that day for safekeepings.

It was five years ago that I was in love. But it didn’t matter how much I loved, and it didn’t matter how much of me I was willing to give away, including my heart, including my sanity, including my day. No amount of selflessness can fix you when you’re broken, when you’ve been beaten down and made to feel like dirt.

So, I wanted to give up; and I nearly did so many times. For the longest, I told myself the reason I allowed my heart to keep on beating was that of another, and their promise that they would always be there. That they were the hero, that they were the ones that saved me.

Even now, looking back on this five year anniversary of my birthday in recovery, I find it hard not to refer to it as the loss. I find it hard not to refer to it as the heartache, as broken promises, as another year since the war has ended. As another nightmare of the broken bottles smashing. As another day to grieve those who are still alive but no longer with me. As a reminder of all of the times I came close to not seeing another day at all.

It’s hard, even still, to not make this day about anyone other than myself. To cower in the shadows, to watch it from outside of my own body, wondering what it’s like to be celebratory.

But each year, it gets a little bit easier.

Year one, I reclaimed my body.
Year two, I reclaimed my freedom.
Year three, I reclaimed my heart.
Year four, I reclaimed my name.
Year five, I reclaim my home.

For those along the way who have handed me the seeds, I will never forget. But five years has taught me that I had to plant them, water them, and let me bloom again. No one saved me, I saved myself.

When I look at the flowers, it’s because I love them, not because you did. I can stand among them, touching them freely, claiming them for anything that I wish.

Everything that I create is created by me, the pain that has made me, is always apart of me, but it does not own me. You do not own me. At the end, it is only me. And I am alive, and five years later, I want to be.

And even though I still grieve, and I still cry, I know I'm moving forward. I own this day, it no longer belongs to anyone else.

Happy Birthday to me.

they say to be in love
you must first love yourself
as for me I disagree
because I have met body upon body
that I've fallen in love with
just by looking in to their eyes
while somehow hating mine
waging war upon myself
all while finding refugee and comfort
in a body, in any body or anybody
who smiled in my direction
who held the door open
who said, 'i'm worried about you' or
'text me when you get home safely' or
'well you were asking for it'.

and isn't love beautiful?
the way it creeps up your spine
tickles the back of your neck
curls around and tightens so slowly
that you don't realize the suffocation
until you're already blue in the face?
using your first gasping breath to declare
how romantic it was to be so close to it

love can be found anywhere
like a dim light in the darkest room or
the  haunting face of danger in those nightmares
that have plagued you since you were sixteen
when you had your heart broken
for the first time and you cried
but then the second, the third
you learned to smile

mistaking the scar tissue for satisfaction
for justification of your hurt
'well at least i could say i tried'
and god knows you tried
to fill that aching, hollow chest of need
with words synonymous with love
in the dictionary of your excuses
re-arranged to make anything
fit the definition of everything
that 4 letter word should be
just so you can convince yourself
battle with your own beating chest
was never in vain.

-- they do not love you.