I am not my weary bones
that drag me through the mud.
Nor the arms that hang beside me
or the beating of my blood.
Nor the cracking joints and fragile skin
that breaks oh so easily

I am not my tired muscles that strain
and beg me to lie down
My worn out eyes that long for sleep
but can’t let slip my crown
I am not the tears in my eyes
that glisten and wish to weep

What am I, you ask?

I am my beating heart
that pounds like a giant drum
my aching soul, my twinkling laughter
my courageous spirit next to none
I am my brilliant mind
that doesn’t know where I’m ending up,
but I know what I am and I know what I’m not
and for now I think that’s enough.

do you think i'm happy?
i just wanna know,
have i been good?
put on the right show?
do you think i'm happy?
have i smiled enough today?
have i laughed enough,
gave all my care away?
do you think i'm happy?
because no one seems to ask
what's going on inside my head,
what's beneath the mask.
do you think i'm happy?
please, god, just say no
because if you don't notice,
i'll know that i'm alone.

i wish i could have been a reason for you to stay.

“i just don’t really wanna be here anymore,” he said softly.

“where? where don’t you wanna be?” i asked.

“i just can’t be here anymore.”

i miss having somebody...
but i don't miss having you.

it feels
a little bit like a dream
the way we would gather in the night
and walk the same path
with hushed whispers
down the elevator
into the lounge
taking our unspoken places
whispering among ourselves
about the day's adventures
but then we would be seated
and someone would break the seal of silence
and we would begin to talk...
about life
about love
about lust
about our futures
our dreams
our deaths
we would predict for each other
what we saw in their crystal ball
though we knew each other
for less days than i can count on my hands
we heard stories about ***
stories about friends
about hometowns
about heartbreak
we shared as many laughs as there are stars in the sky...

and when it all ended
i wondered where the time had gone
or if i had imagined it all.

she waits until the door closes,
and pauses,
and listens,
while her hands grip the bathroom counter,
white like the first blizzard of a snowy December,
and hawklike she listens,
for the slightest creak of the floorboards,
for a stifled hum or a muffled footstep,
and when she hears no one,
her face begins to break,
like a piece of china crashing to the ground in slow motion,
and with one shuddering breath,
she allows herself to fall to pieces.