You'd think that
Since the load of stress breaks my
Back with its weight,
That being able to relax would allow me to heal.
But I am lost without the routine of school, as much as I loathe it.
Depression is funny like that.

You'd think that
I would be able to swim back up
From the violent ocean of thoughts
I assume other people have about me,
But I'm drowning myself, weighing myself down with my own criticism.
Depression is funny like that.

You'd think that having all the free time in the world
To improve my various skills would be A blessing of opportunity,
But perfectionism and laziness grip my Shoulders, breathe into my mind,
"It won't be good enough anyway."
Depression is funny like that.

You'd think that
Without anything bad happening,
The contemplation of suicide wouldn't still be smoldering in the back of my mind.
But for some reason I'm blowing on the embers, and coaxing out a blaze...

Depression is funny like that.

The mess we make- humans,
stumbling, killing, creating.
Writhing fear and beauty.

Humans: laughing and crying,
living and dying, shouting and singing
with loud voices up to the heavens.

On this blue orb, creating wonderful, dreadful chaos.

You: someone I don't trust.
My heart thunders out of my chest up into my throat;
I cannot breathe.
And the sound fills my ears, muffling your words.
The rhythm pounds away in my mind, scattering my sentences.
I am left drowning
in an ocean of mild panic,
believing
that every shaking syllable passing my lips
must hurt your opinion of me.

Beautiful Sun, who shines valiantly throughout the day,
the lonely moon glows feebly, merely a shadow of your glory.
Life-giving splendor, bringing color into the world
and pulling it from the sky as you lay to rest in the evening;
why must you be so cruel?

More often than not it was you, lovely star, who was present in my darkest moments.
Your light shined down, making a mockery of my suffering.
For all your warmth you are cold and uncaring,
indifferent to my tears that you have witnessed.

Although the moon possesses only a shred of your magnificence,
it is a much kinder companion, smiling gently through the darkness.
By the time Night paints the sky with broad strokes of deep purple
my troubles have slunk away into the shadow.

Your rising is a symbol of hope and new beginnings to most,
but in my eyes your rosy fingers promise another painful day.
I do wish your dazzling company brought reassurance!
Even so, I find myself relieved as you fade away in
soft oranges and blues,
chased away by the comfort of darkness.

The sands of time rushed through my fingers, they
Slid through the gaps as easily as water.
Where did the year go?

The gentle murmur of voices in the kitchen,
The quiet turning of a page,
The reliable ticking of a clock,
The silence of the street outside...
And the unexplainable screaming
in my head.

As a species
We
Mean nothing to the universe.
Countless galaxies exist,
Stars die out,
And we crawl about on this one planet
In one solar system
In a single Galaxy
Within the ever expanding vastness
Of space.
And yet.
The pain of loss
Or a broken heart feels
As monumental as a star's final moments.
Love exists,
A force that causes our souls to swell and change,
Like the expansion of the universe.
So,
As insignificant as we are within it,
Are we not all crucial elements
In each other's universes?

When I say "I'm scared of falling in love"
What I really mean is that
I'm terrified that my shining eyes will betray people who reach
For a glittering diamond heart
And instead cut their hands on broken glass.
That they will leave me,
Thinking I am not worth being scarred for.
I am scared of people
Who will press their cookie-cutter expectations against me
And leave me trying to mold myself
Back into the girl I vaguely remember being.
When I say "I'm scared of falling in love,"
I'm saying that I am scared of imprints remaining
While memory-foam hearts forget me.
So I guess I'm not scared of falling in love,
But of what will happen when I hit the ground...
Of inevitable pain.

When my eyes are blank,
My breathing steady yet shallow...
There is a special place I go
Deep within my thoughts.
Where I drift alone through darkness,
Hiding
From the world.

As Sun retreats
Down into the horizon,
He pulls the blanket of stars
Over the sky.
The residue of his flame is brushed onto the quickly deepening blue.

Moon begins to glide into view, and
Creatures of the night begin to stir,
Recognizing her scent.
Those who basked in Sun's light flee
to the shadows and into their dreams
To hide from her ghostly glow.

This is the special time
Of balance,
And silence,
And stillness.
This is dusk, in all its beauty.

Sometimes
I want to be loved.
I want to be held,
Secure in arms I can trust in.
Understood
By someone unafraid to leap
Off the diving board into the deep
Mess of my thoughts.
Gazed at
By eyes that can't get enough of me,
That memorize every detail.
Heard
By ears that register my laugh
As the sweetest song they've heard.

I want
To be loved
Sometimes.

I miss the honeyed balm of poetry,
the melodic rhythm of words
skipping gracefully in my mind,
making a home on the tips of my lashes and kissing my fingertips with reverence

the pine boughs and dewdrops and shafts of sunlight which scatter through soft, heavy grey

a home found in syllables savored by my tongue, without being carried into sound--
my lips lock their sweetness behind my teeth
to drink down the flowing sentences again,
again
again