How many nights will I sit in the echo chamber of my mind?
Telling me I'm unworthy, that I'm running out of time
Time is the measurement of change,
And arrives no sooner than the dearly departed
The drumming in my chest serves as a reminder
That I'm destined to be broken hearted
Glancing in the mirror for a lifetime of bad luck
The fragments of the memories
Lead me to just not give a ****
Fine lines under my eyes grow deeper with each turn around the sun
My sense of hope is fading
When each chapter burns before it's done
There is no other choice but to take paper and pen
To fill in the blanks, find a way to start again
But no matter how many times I aim to change the narrative
The glass in the mirror will shatter
I am trapped here; it's declarative
A mosaic of pain, of all things unkind
I refuse to put it back into the world
Instead I choose to suffer with no one at my side.
This does not make me a martyr, a sinner, or a saint
I am just a girl now turned a woman
Still trapped in her constraints.

it's not love.

you will make it out of this.

saying no does not make you a bad person.

saying yes too much will leave you empty.

you probably don't need those credit cards.

whiskey does not drown your sorrow.

this is the only body that you have.

be kind to it

and your heart which

shatters over and over

but still lives.

you will make it out of this

you will fall in love

with yourself and then

maybe one day another.

you will live to see 22 and then 25

and then, eventually, 30.

today, we are 28.

we are happy.

we are grateful.

"I never stood a chance, did I?"

"That's the sad part - you did once."

I stopped dead in my tracks at that moment. How was it possible that one small sentence could send me through a myriad of emotions, and so quickly at that? Every brittle bone in my body felt like it was threatened to crack by the chill that rolled down my spine and spread to my toes. The voice echoed in my skull, creating a rattling against the cage that was my mind. I could never be free from it.

Immediately, I was taken back to that time where it was you and I. I stood on the corner and you had asked me to stay. I was hesitant, but nothing will ever replace or let me forget that warmth that I felt. It was as if a fire was lit in this hollow chest, keeping me warm and igniting me with a pride that later on betrayal would burn out.

Where did it all go so wrong?

It was that question that I was still unable to answer. You and I - again, we both knew it was undeniable. I had once been powerful. This has once been beautiful. As it seemed, with all good things, they must come to an end.

And here we were.

My arms folded across my chest and I found my fingers curling into my fists. They squeezed, tightening until my bones were knuckle white and taut against my skin, glowing so pale like the moon that lingered over us. My eyes found it after seeking it out, and I struggled not to find myself counting every star in the sky as the letters of the words for all of the things I wanted to say to you. I couldn't seem to find the way to curl my tongue around them and spit them out into your hands anymore, but trust me when I say I once would've given you all of those stars.

I could only manage a few - "Well, the past is the past."

I could hear the disdain crawling from your throat and escaping in the form of a sigh. In this moment to you, the words mattered. Like a board game I found myself with not many letter choices to arrange together, and certainly none that would ever place you & I in the same reality again, regardless of how much I longed for it.

I am not your flower
yet you pluck my petals.

"He loves me,
He loves me not."

the familiar fluttering
until I wilt.

you dig me up
to drink the water
from my roots
with no intention
on planting me again.

A sunflower with a drop
of oily yellow so feeble
but one gets lost in the
happiness it brings

I haven't ever known
a happiness similar to this.
In the days of my childhood,
I used to sit in a room alone
with the vast pages of words and alphabet

I've learned them so well
Yet no matter how I arrange
I'm not convinced that I can
Properly express all of the things
I wish to say to you.

At sunset, when light fades in to darkness,
the gray that spreads around makes one ask,
'what if the moon wouldn't appear tonight?'

I've learned that the moon, it always appears.
But if you turn your back to it
You will miss the small things that it shines on

Like the sunflower that has been planted
from the coldest of all the winters
and from darkness of all the odds
have put against it in lack of sunshine

There, it waits.
Plenty in solitude and
protected by solace.
Ready for you to water it
and teach the warmth
of the world that you have provided,
so it can bloom under an autumn moon

am i me?
am i you?
thoughts fill this empty
tomb, or am i to assume
it is merely a room?

the world is still spinning
but mine has seemed to slow;
no longer in synchronization
with the familiar ebb & flow

floating through cracks & crevasses
my feet won't touch the ground
you tell me to snap out of it
but i don't hear the sound

if i can transcend time
and i can transcend space
maybe i can follow the leader
of my mind and find my place of
belonging without a trace

the flickering of the camera captures your smile
you hit send - upload complete.
the illumination from the screen frames your features
you've wiped away the facade you've created
in the form of facebook memories
and wall posts of positive mantra

such unnatural levels of light can drain your battery
so face to face, we dial the sliders down
but you disappear in the shadows, face down, thumb scrolls
i waited to see your smile, how the real thing could compete
with that perfectly composed image
instead, i was met with the buzzing of a notification
that killed the conversation between us.

the eyes are the windows to the soul
but with the barrier of the glass on a screen
it seems less an invitation and more of a breaking and entering
i would love nothing more than to tell you
that i like the thoughts that come from your mind
to hear them out loud from your lips
and to watch the natural glow that emits,
no flash or filter needed.

my disdain is not for the social platforms designed to connect
only for all of the things that we've left unsaid
while we turn our backs, and hit share instead.

"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.

The definition of insanity

Is repeating
And expecting a different result
And expecting a different result
And expecting a different result this time, when you look at her, look her in the eyes.

Take her by the hand.
Tell her you're not insane.
Tell her you're not giving up.

That the willingness to fight for a different outcome is not the equivalent of the same burning embers which have scorned you.

When push came to shove, when my hands met you with such force, urging you out of my life
You refused. Your arms wrapped around me tightly, like a barricade, like a shelter from the storm. Pinning me there and holding me close.
“you can push as hard as you want but I’m not leaving. I care”
The anger fueled inside me, lingering hurt that was not yours to heal. “I hate you.”
“You don’t mean that.” I didn’t.
“I hate you.” I repeat.
You sigh. “I love you.”
Time works wonders and soon enough I couldn’t survive on anything but your touch,  needed your arms around me if only to get through the day.
“I love you.” My voice cracked. Knowing things had changed.

You were silent.
You were silent all day.
“Please tell me.” I begged.
“I’m leaving.” My heart shattered.
But you healed me. Aside from this even the anger was gone. Tears welled in my eyes yet somehow I found it in my soul to smile.
“I’m so happy for you. ”
You smiled,  too.
“I know you’re worried. I’ll never forget you.”
Somehow you did.
Time changes everything. So much noise turns to silence and at times I can’t take it. Its not the same calm I once felt from merely being by your side.
I’ve put you on a pedestal that I can no longer reach, separated by miles,  communicated by one way messages.

when I said i’d write about you for the rest of my life
I wasn’t wrong
here I am
writing about how I don’t love you anymore.
But you have left a mark on me that will never be erased.

This is an ode to you,
the greatest soul I've ever known
and my biggest heartbreak.

I stood across the room, staring.
Pale eyes translucent as they fell upon him,
Radiating like bone white knuckles
Hands dig in to palms, nails indent flesh
Reminding me that I am a ghost
Creating crescent moons
To match the way I would of done anything
To give you the stars,
or even the whole sky.
Ignoring the fact that you robbed me of the sun,
took away the light,
Replaced the warmth with a cold
That I am reminded of every time
I find myself searching for you.

i'm up thinking about you again
writing about you again
but this isn't a poem
i'm not putting you in a poem

because you see the poems
they stem from the wounds
they stem from the darkness
and that's not you, is it my dear?
because when i look at you all i want to see
are kaleidoscopes in your eyes
and the sun kissing your hair
and a reflection of the brightest smile
that has touched my lips in years

and if the heat of the summer makes this a mirage
then so be it
i don't want to write another poem
not about you

"I am alone."
The words utter from your lips
As if there were no one around to hear them
As if I were but a ghost
Transparent, transposable, translucent
A once radiating light in your gaze
Just as soon to be dulled or turned down
A roaring crimson fire ablaze
Just as soon to be suffocated or put out
Starved for oxygen in the way that I
am starved for any sense of purpose
When you tell me you are alone
As if I am simply not standing right in front of you

With this revelation
With this mile in your shoes
I find myself looking around only to realize
that I am alone too.

i am worth more.
something
(about you)
makes me feel that
i am worth more than
this body
is not a home.
sick about the way that
these veins are all open roads
vulnerable, fragile
the way that my heart feels
(about you)
i do not know
how to form the words
without them coming out
like static electricity
coursing through
never ending, it's never
(about you)
ending the way that
i want it to be
(about you)
but it's supposed to be
about me
and how i am worth more
than just... being
about you.