I woke up in the dark
Early in the morning.
I felt the hum along my skin that meant
You were next to me.
It was quiet
And in your sleep you were breathing hard.
I could feel the tension in you.
I'd never seen anyone so out of breath in a dream.
You sounded scared. You felt scared,
Next to me.
I opened my eyes, careful, and your half-shadowed brow was creased with...
Worry?
Fear?
Pain?
I couldn't be sure. Maybe it was nothing, but...
I felt for you, in that second.
You looked so young. You looked so hunted.
I almost shut my eyes again, unwilling to invade upon it-
Sleep is such a vulnerable thing, such a private thing.
I almost woke you with a kiss
And forced you to know I was there.
What if you were suffering?
What if you were terrified?
I almost woke you, right then,
And disrupted that strange, innocent rest-that-wasn't-restful.
I almost woke you because I couldn't take it anymore.
The way you were gasping air like you were dying.
I reached for you, indecisive,
Fingers hovering above your shoulder as if you were a flame I was getting too close to.
But instead
I steadied myself, pulled back.
And I took your hand, real soft,
And I just held it,
Making little circles with my thumb on your palm.
And I breathed with you,
And then slower, calmer, deeper,
In my head saying, "Shh, it's okay."
And I sent my love through my fingertips
To yours.
And I stayed like that, just breathing,
Trying to reassure you without you ever knowing it.
And as I did your breath slowed
And the strain left your body bit by bit,
And my heart broke a little
That perhaps I caused that.
That maybe in your head you'd been in pain
And maybe I had helped you breathe a little easier.
And I lay back down, carefully, gently,
And closed my eyes again
And let the warmth of your hand in mine
Comfort me
And the thought that maybe I had comforted you
Sustain me.

One finger over the other,
strands lacing together in blonde streaks
pulling the shadow back away
from my face,
tugging
at the missing pieces
until they all tucked neatly
in the right places.

You yelled at me last night
after we both got home.
I was in the shower, the steam
suffocating my already
weakened breath.
I could hear you shuffling
through the medicine cabinet
above the sink
"****!"
when the pills
spilled
all over the white tile floor,
and you without glasses
blindly searching for the pain relievers.

"I think you're taking this whole thing the wrong way"
you stated as I turned the faucet
all the way to the left.
The pressure of the shower
stabbed my back like hail
as you kept defending yourself
from the other side of the curtain.

I cried but you wouldn't be able
to tell which droplets were the tears.

I was silent the whole way through.
Pushing my hair back and massaging
my neck with my fingers
as you slammed the bathroom door.

I crawled in after I dried myself
with a towel I found in the hamper.
Your feet were hanging out of the covers.
I tucked them in and lied awake
until the alarm went off this morning.

hello, I miss you
the stars screamed at me not to let you drive away
and I should have said something
anything
worth you being here
because I never knew "goodnight"
could be a synonym for goodbye
and I am not ready to be alone once more

hello, I miss you
do you miss me?
you told me you did once after you pulled over to the side of the road 20 miles away from my house claiming that you couldn't drive any farther until I knew
you never turned around though
I wasn't worth enough
it wasn't until later that I figured out that could be the only thing I have left to hold onto

hello, I miss you
since you are gone I have no best friend besides my reflection
and even she does not want to talk
sometimes
we both have sad eyes and no one to look into them
you were my light and now there is only
darkness
(the stars have given up trying to warn me)

If anyone told me when I was little that when I was older,
when the leaves fell down I would be so sad
I wouldn’t have watched them spiral down with such wonder.
I might have even taken the liberty of climbing to the tops of them
and
taping them to their own branches.
The younger version of myself loved me more than I do now.

There are a small collection of us fighting for our lives,
as extinguished lights all we look for is more darkness to hide with.
Among empty red seats of an all but abandoned theatre I found my reflection.
A mirror in the shape of a girl.
Cries of help can be only mere whispers if need be
and
I have many secrets I do not wish to shout.

She spoke to me more with her eyes than with her mouth,
in turn I found that we spoke the same language.
Maybe I was too afraid to ask her where home was
but
she did tell me that she went to bed early
“and not like 8 pm early, like 6 pm early”

I wondered if that was because she was in love with the darkness or her dreams.

You don’t ask questions like that unless you’re prepared to answer them yourself.

What I can tell her is what I know:

We are electric.
My lips aren’t quite frozen
and
my battery is not yet dead
and
if igniting one another saves both or neither at least we tried.
I will use my words as a defibrillator,
shocking you, shocking you, shocking you,
until I once again hear the sound of fire, keeping you alive.
I won’t give up on you so you better not give up on yourself.

I will bring you back to life.

*Illuminate the darkness for me darling

If,
at the end of my life,
you were to ask me about the one thing I loved the most
I would answer
"Breathing"
because it was the one thing that
never
left
all that I have ever truly known
is the air in my lungs
and the ground at my feet

I don't belong here
and I don't mean this town I mean this earth
I'm not quite made out to be human you know?
if we were all created from a couple chemical reactions and a huge burst of light at some center of the universe I must be going home when I die
and I want to go home
I am homesick
for a place I barely remember
but it is nowhere here
no point on a map I can put my finger on
no road to get me there
and you know
I wouldn't be me without my sadness
it's as a part of my like my arms are
sadness is what makes me interesting
and I think thats why
no one ever notices
how sad I am
my mom didn't check off the box labeled depression when I went to the doctor the other day
and I didn't have the heart to tell her
sometimes I feel so sad
I feel so sick
but I'm laughing
and every breath hurts me and
oh how I want to go home
but it makes me interesting
makes me unique
who I am
not the sadness
just what it makes me do
I talk to people as if it's the last time I will see them a lot
drive a little too fast
I tried to commit suicide once
and I never did
I was pulled off a bridge
screaming really
I wanted to feel whole if only for a second before I hit the water
but I'm not afraid anymore
I think about dying a lot
but
I don't make solid plans
or write letters
and sometimes I still think about throwing myself off a bridge
or in front of a car
sometimes I write sentences, just single sentences
to leave when I am gone
and sometimes I want to write a suicide book
and other times the only suicide note I need is your name
but I don't
because I made a promise to a boy that left me that I would stay
the problem with being homesick
is we are taught that eventually you go home anyway
but

I'm not leaving

darling
please come inside
I've never seen it with my own two eyes
but I can imagine you igniting your addiction with a flick
inhaling the smoke
are you trying to start a fire in the bottom of your lungs?
or keep one burning?
I might ask you one day
when you're looking up at the sky
memorizing the constellations once more
you may close your eyes then
are you trying to create a universe between your rib bones?
penciling in stars like letters
writing a book of
expanding//contracting
beginning//ending
with each breath
starting the same way it finishes
until the point of collapse

darling
please come inside
it's so cold
your veins may freeze
is your addiction keeping you alive?
or is it killing you from the inside?
it took a part of me once
your addiction was once another's
it left with him
and took a piece of me with it
I've never been the same
and I'm getting tired of looking at hospital walls
but I can't tell you that
I've seen the inferno behind your eyes
that you're so desperately keeping alive
so I simply say
"hurry back"
instead of

"darling,
please come inside"