you used to love to draw, learned how to sketch when you were eight
painted me a sky full of smoke and liquor and told me this
was where happiness would always start
your inspirations were my frustrations said you never liked
my pretty face unless it was full of madness
i guess you're wish has come true because darling i'm a hopeless
addict without you, my arms are designed with the color of
your favorite wine and i know i should be happy, my
skies are full of beautiful blues but i've learned
that pain is happiness when i'm with you
he was my darkest shade of grey, my disastrous tale of love
and what happened after, you were a beautiful mistake
a terrible tragedy you carved your name on my heart and
and made your touch a weapon filled with poison i can't
find the antidote and now i'm searching desperately for all
the pieces but they seem to have all broke
and i know it's wrong to want to have you by my side,
you always made me think i was happy
but i'm starting to realize that skies are not meant be filled with
smoke and liquor and that the world would burn
with your love of fires and hurricanes of tears would
fill your beating heart with happiness and i know that
you're sick and twisted, i know that you are the very
worst thing that could have ever happened to me
and yet i cannot bring myself to say that you are black,
you my dear are the darkest shade of grey
you're a disaster, a canvas that's been broken and filled with
toxic paint, a ticking time bomb exploding every day and
for your love of fires you were gasoline although i'd rather burn
early than die later for i'm starting to find out,
i like my skies filled with smoke and liquor and hate
the way the sun shines you could have the been the worst
thing that had ever happened to me but i know, oh i know
i'm not alone, yes i know that i am the worst thing that has
happened to you

(h.l.)

first;* there is a pause, there is the questioning
in you heart of if this is real or if it's a mirage
if this is your eyes deceiving you or if it is actually real,
the possibility that this could be real wills you
to move, it wills you to continue and then
there is the embrace, the bear hug and the reassurance
that yes this is real  this is real *this is real and everything
feels like it is moving in fast forward and no you are
not ready to let go you cannot  let go you can't let go
why can't you let go you moved on
you made new friends you've loved new lovers you've gone
a year without these people and yet it feels like it hasn't been
a week because soon you are surrounded by the same laughter,
the same sarcastic jokes that make you feel at home; first
is happiness and disbelief and ecstasy and surreal awkwardness
and catching up on life
//
next; next is judgement, next is meeting the people that
you didn't really miss and having to stand there
as their shaming eyes take you apart piece by piece and
analyze every flaw you've always had and the
ones that you've gained, next is hi I kinda missed you and
wow I'm not trying to be rude or anything but how long
have you been gone? next is boasting and whispered jokes
that you know are about you next is how is it like
being the first dropout next is jokes that are disguised because
they are really insults next is meeting the new girl and
finding out that she likes the same baseball team
you do and she's smarter and they like her and they've
never really liked you and you don't really care because
they're ******* but you actually do and you say goodbye
and walk away biting the inside of your cheek and willing
yourself not to break down next is reliving all the good
times and the bad times and next is internal panic attacks
and fake smiling next is pretending this never happened next
is wishing that you could go back in time and make things
better but knowing that even if you went back
it still wouldn't be better
//
finally; finally is distractedly talking to your friends as
if your insides weren't crawling finally is walking around
as if your heart wasn't shattering with each step you've made
finally is the sound of their voices echoing in your head and
finally is dropout finally is failure finally is you can't
avoid it an longer because it's time that you face the facts' finally
is not eating dinner because your appetite has
been stolen by an insect called insecurity finally is opening your
binder and going through all that you could've done
finally is going to sleep early because you have a headache
finally is trying to explain to your best friend why you
left without saying goodbye finally is knowing that you have to,
that everyone else and it's time to say goodbye too
finally is wanting to freeze everything and
not move forward because the future is a road filled with
surprise and you hate surprises and finally is going to sleep
with tear stains on your pillow, finally is waking up and
not wanting to move and only to sit in silence finally is the
ear shattering sound of your music because you cannot
stand silence finally is that study playlist you can no longer
listen to without having trouble breathing finally is that last letter
that you have lost in a binder somewhere but it
doesn't matter because you have memorized the words
finally is running and never wanting to give up and hoping
that you can run until you turn into the shadow that you are
already becoming finally is not wanting to become a shadow
finally is fighting back against all the odds
finally is becoming content finally is being happy
and finally is a fidget it is that jumpy leg that you have
that won't stop moving because of nervousness
because finally you have accepted that you are not
apart of them and they are slowly not being apart
of you either finally is making new friends and
loving new lovers finally is moving on and
never forgetting but also never reminiscing

(h.l.)

too many poems
too many poets
describing the
same **** feelings
and yet
throughout the centuries
none of us
have ever found
the right words

his hands twitch and he starts to blink and attempts
to calm down, because it's okay, people
get nervous and this is what happens when people
get nervous but his hands won't stop twitching and it's
the one imperfect thing in this entire room, the walls
are white the people are silent the floor is
polished the chairs don't squeak and why the hell
is his hand still twitching; he starts to panic because
he can feel the bile rising in his throat, he can feel
goosebumps on his arms he can feel the anxiety
radiating like a furnace he can feel it all and he doesn't
blink, he just tries to focus on his breathing but he
can't he can't he can't he can't all he can do
is look at the boy with the twitching hands and hope that
he stops because it was ruining everything all he
wanted him to do was stop stop stop stop but
he wouldn't, he would never stop it never
stops no matter how many pills he takes no matter
how many therapy sessions he attends, there is
still that boy in the back of his mind and his hands
are constantly twitching and they don't stop they only
become distracted by the ceiling fan or the tiles on
the floor or the hanging thread on her dress or
the on and off switch and having to turn it
on and off on and off on and off on and off
four times before it feels right
nothing ever feels right anymore, it is all a matter
of becoming distracted and trying to focus
******* anything else but the boy with the twitching hands

(h.l.)

Your favorite color is green like the color of eyes
not like the color of grass
and you love playing sports but hate the outdoors
and you spent hours one day searching for a lost battery
somewhere in the park and I was there  
as always with you searching for this mysterious battery
already knowing we weren't going to find it
but not caring because it mattered to you
so it mattered to me and when you went home that day
with disappointment at the pit of your stomach
I could only try to find other ways to smile
because my lips has stretched far too much
and I couldn't express happiness the way
I wanted too when you had shown up at my house
at midnight with a deck of cards and a bottle of gin
and we played ******* and I had lost because
for some reason I could lie to everyone else but you

My favorite color is blue like the soft sweater
your aunt knitted for Christmas not like
the color of the ocean and you wouldn't know
because you don't really care and it should bother me
that you don't care but it doesn't;
like the last battery in the park,
I already know our love is one that is not
meant to exist or to be found and it would
only ever prevail on the nights where you come
to my house at midnight and on the
days that you lose batteries at the park

(h.l.)