I want to hear the echo
of my own words.
I want to know
that you’ll be there
even when you know a storms coming
I need you there.
I’m so scared that one day
you might be gone,
you won’t be the first to go
won’t be the last.
Everyone from my past are ghosts
and i hate
pulling out the ouija board.
Don’t make me have to visit
our friendship’s grave
because I will be there everyday
for months wondering how to
bring back the dead.
Rituals, sacrifices, spells, and even prayers.
God whispering to me
telling me he knows how it will end
but i have to wait to see the road bend.
Seeing the storm coming
from a land far far away
knowing this isn’t a fairy tale
knowing I’ll never get my happy ending.
Even when you know the storm is coming
take my hand
and maybe we’ll get to Oz.
There’s no place like
home.
Home isn’t a place,
It’s the feeling of comfort you get
when you hear your echo.
It’s sitting down and knowing
you are here for a reason.
Understanding that we are
one with the earth
and this is my place on earth.
It’s seeing a picture of the beach or woods or mountains
and saying
proclaiming
“I’d rather be here.”
I’d rather be here with you.
I’d rather be here with you because
you haven’t left yet.
I don’t think you will but understand
that I have never had that extra hand,
a friend to reach out and say
“please don’t go away.”

my first kiss
my first love
want to remember.
the heartbreak
the abandonment
want to forget.

Soft brown eyes
Shattered like mirrors
Scattered with abandon
What happens when
There are hearts working in tandem
Sharing and loving and growing and
What happens when
One just dies
Without
A
Goodbye

I wept for myself today. A younger me, that is.

For what I wish I could tell her. For what should have been.

I mourned for her years of pain and apathy and feelings of invalidation. For what should have been.

I would give her a big hug, for all the ones she didn't receive.

I would tell her to be brave, but to remember to cry too, for what should have been.

I would take her bra shopping and celebrate her womanhood, for what should have been.

I would tell her about my own pain and trauma. I would teach her what empathy is, for what should have been.

I would encourage her to be honest. I would be serious with her and teach her about grief and sadness, for what should have been.

I would tell her that it's not over. And that she is not who or what others think she is.

I would tell her to smash the impossible mirror she is holding up, for what should have been.

And I would hold her. So, so close. For what should have been.

To crave the intangible
Like it's light and I'm a plant
Or like it's water and I'm a fish

If I was a fish I wouldn't need attention
I could swim, yeah, I could breathe
Maybe even suffocate in a fisherman's net

To crave the intangible
Like it's needed to live
A new class, up there with
Food and water
But why?

I used to think I feared abandonment
I probably still do, actually
But this is different
Maybe it's replacing my self image
To know I'm desired by others

But I dream I could be that fish instead