I can't blame you for losing yourself and hiding in the closet with those skeletons you keep.
It's summer out here in Texas and the weather is frying my spirit and the confidence I had is pouring down my face with shame.
I can't blame you for spilling your guts to me when you needed it most; I'm sorry I couldn't do the same.

It's snowing back home in September and I am over here hiding my face from the world wishing I could wear a mask permanently sometimes.
I can't blame you for running away- I ran the same direction but stopped a little too soon I think...
Hard times will make you wonder how you survived when you're on the edge of the cliff and can see rock bottom just below.

I can't blame you for hating me, but you can't blame me for wishing you didn't.
I can't blame you for having nothing to say because  you were the water to my garden but I'm drowning.
I cannot bloom, my petals are falling off day by day and this Texas heat has me lethargic and depressed.

Soon I'll be heading home, back to the desert where my soul remains.
I know the the things you'll say.
I can hear them in the back of my head, but the times have changed.
I can't blame you for running away... but I am running back home now.

it worries me,
three a.m.

and i'm not
sure how many

times i can write
this poem

he looks at the stars
and back at me
take me, i am yours
he says.

i look at him
and back at the stars

how i wish they
took me.


-- Eleanor