You keep looking for yourself,
because you want so badly to see the 'real' you
so you look at quotes,
you experiment with lifestyles,
you question what you could be,
you look in a mirror but feel lied to,
then you hit a certain age and feel struck,
it's all between laughable and sad,
you notice the person behind every line of lipstain,
every cloak of cashmere,
and every bud on a cig,
you had this little speck of originality that no one understands.
Through all the time you spent trying to find yourself,
you were you,
it was just so hard to comprehend.

I am at that moment.
I have either finished something amazing,
or begun something amazing.
Or wait... am I in the middle of something amazing?
Does anything truly ever end
or are we always adding to a continuous string of adventures.
Even when something has finished, we still talk about it.
We still relive those feelings and emotions trying to retrieve them again
or never again.
Each adventure is unique but it is all connected.
We connect them with other times we have had and other people we know.
Nothing is singular and nothing stands alone.
So when I say I am beginning my journey, I am really adding on to the past I already know and want to change.
I would not be on this path if I didn't know the other road.
So I will continue on and my story is going to be a great one.

stripped naked in the figurative sense, I see a girl that is far overdue for a dose of joy. so much emptiness in her eyes, blood flow has become invisible. beauty. oh so much beauty in the way she cares absolutely too much for those that are unaware of her favorite color nevertheless asks how she feels every blue moon. perfectionist could quite possibly be her middle name by the way her heart beats in sync with the spontaneous moods that show their appearance every two days or so. anxiety equals a rapid beat. "if you feel worried then you must act on it" seems to be her philosophy because when she's sad and shaky the heart must go slow.
for,
she.
is.
slow.
when the depression hits and vulnerability only shows its face behind closed doors im sure she would say that she feels as though she's suffocating. suffocating in the figurative sense, where everyone is there watching her but no one can differentiate heavy breathing in basketball practice from a ******* asthma attack.
idiots.
so numb. she's so numb in the figurative sense. you ask her how she is and each time it's an automated "good" as if practiced hundreds of times before a theatre performance. an actress. she's an actress in the literal sense. planting a smile from ear to ear even when it's an obvious gloomy day for everyone else. she puts on a show of happiness that could very much earn her an oscar, if only she were literally in the entertainment business. I can see her falling in the way her back hunches just 10 degrees lower than it had a year ago. I would recommend a doctors appointment but im hoping she learns to fix it on her own. I'm hoping it begins to appear in someone around her that maybe she isn't as okay as she seems. this beautiful perfectionist doesn't just have bad days and doesn't just spare her low moods in spite of upsetting those around her. this beautiful perfectionist doesn't see herself as beautiful. this beautiful perfectionist is so far from perfect.
maybe if someone looked a little deeper in the literal and figurative sense, they would choose to ask, after her automated response of "good", "are you really?"
-mxy

i fruitlessly waste time searching for the time i lost.

there was a point in my life
my whole world revolved around you
I could only think of you and I needed you close
every single thing made me think of the memories
we have made together, the smiles and tears we shared.

after a while things had changed
you had changed, or maybe it was me
the people always needed me more than they needed you
it was my way of life to live in my own world and be myself
you were always jealous of it and I never understood why

I became a child of the dark and you choose the light
from that day you looked at me different
no more spark in your eyes, it was disgust.

autumn came
the leaves let go of the tree
they left the save place they called home
and so did you

Emma’s Journey

Now no more the slanting rays
Of rain or snow, this poetry
Of weather charting the bright haze
Of days on Earth, sweeping melodies

Did your forget even for a time?
That our days here are limited?
Feel it slipping like an evening hymn
The months become years of lost moments

Most musical and to heaven extending
The loves ones leave us now
The Sun we once held so dear
Is softly descending, O Lord our waiting eyes

This universe as wide as the speed of light
These ***** nightly meditations for what
You would have become, little signs
Of creation and contemplation

While my world is growing dim
Now no more the crimson blaze
Of fiercely loving, give me wisdom
For these tragedies, of losing and loving

And starry pleasures of transcendent gestures
Encoded in art in private moments
Of what it feels like to be lost, anonymous
And solitary, the unexpected sleep
Of a youth dying before their course was set.

Grasping the wisps of dreams
Longing for the scent of hope
Chasing the ghost of whims

Gray clouds storm in as dreams shatter
the shards of glass cutting deep
with only pain as my friend.

No blood.

Just the numbing pain,
until I can no longer feel

The dull pain of what was
or what could have been.

Fighting that will to scream
or to agonize.

To fall on the ground for a demon
To imagine anything from then
Would that be weak?

To chase a ghost.
To chase the wisps of dreams.

To long for smoke.

y.k.