Was there ever a story
As sad or unjust
As that of the Lady Jane Grey?

Abused by her mother
And forced to wed
At 16 already literally
Lost her head.

We’ve built the wall surrounding our castle—
Slowly becoming each other’s demise.
Sounds of slamming doors and shattering glass pierces the silence.
What an inconvenience this life has become.

The pendulum that once swung has taken its final swing.
Envious cries cutting through infinite silence.
Visons of thieving wolves that capture our castle—
Removing delicate, intricately sewn lies
What an inconvenience this life has become.

We have skin as muddy as waters. Vaginas smelling of blood, unwanted babies and 400 years of forced entries. That's all we have in common. What I have is sickness in the mind. Many people say depression is the emperor of many mentalities; some say it turns your mind into this forbidden city, giving you 8000 sorts of depressing feelings like no will ever love you, just go they won’t even notice you’re gone. They call it depression dynasty. They give depression so much prestige and many of them romantizes depression. But do they really know what it is? It's all watered down into something antidepressant can tone down but pills can't help all the attacks that come from different angles. Laughter turns into tears cause you can't help but hear that little voice "You're not happy", so I'd rather sit in my bedroom and write. Oh wait I've lost that skill now, thanks to my anxiety that is. That's depressions' cousin, depression felt the need to invite him over. Funny how life goes. I thought I'd abort this poetry thing,when all the pain tones down creativity seems to find a new abode. Failed poet I call myself, I can't use high metaphors, fail to express all these emotions so what's the use. I seem to fail at everything I do. I'm trying not to waste my time, but this is what I want to do. The demons come as a sequence of powerful leaders and I just can't sit here and let them dictate to me.

Your eyes are vacant, not full of love like they used to be.
I gently brush your cheek but you don’t see me,
Not like you used to.
You reach over my shoulder, wrap your arms around me and say “I love you.”
I smile and hesitate before speaking,
Wondering if I should just say it back; I do.
Your freckles are embedded in your skin,
Like the way your thoughts become embedded in everything you do.
You soak up everything around you like the way a sponge gorges itself on water.
You watch people like the way you read books, quietly and unnoticed.
You hide yourself behind your stories and worlds,
Watching your characters take form and shape in front of you.
I can see it in your eyes,
The way they entice you and leap from your books.
I watch as the anchor is cast, and its claws sink further into you
Grabbing your attention in a way I never could.
I’m a writer after all, I should love this about you.
Don't get me wrong, I do
But I wish you'd pick your head up and look at me with those eyes-
The ones that wrap around me and comfort me,
The ones that see me naked and vulnerable, my truest self.
But I know if I can ask that of you,
Not anymore, because you just don't see me like you used to.
I remember the days when I'd catch you sneaking glimpses of me, But now our car rides are spent in silence,
Your eyes always averted outside and away from me.
I don't know when the ocean settled between us,
Or when words became so hard.
I don't know when the silences between us became worrisome rather than comforting and warm.
I don't know exactly when it started to feel this way,
When the 'us' separated into a 'you' and 'I',
But it wasn't always like this.
You used to dive into my soul head first,
Breathing me in like I was the only water that could quench your thirst.
There was a time when you used to exist in these places with me, not just beside me.
When you're next to me I can feel the way your breath shifts in the air,
The way you hesitate to let me in
And the way you don't dare step foot in the somber house that holds my mind.
Maybe I've let you see too much,
Maybe I shouldn't have invited you down the decaying steps of my spine and into my soul.
Maybe I regret it.
Letting you see this part of me.
Maybe I regret letting you make your home inside of the deepest parts of me,
Because now that you've decided to take up residency elsewhere,
I've never felt so alone.
Before we drift into darkness you pull me in every night
And give me one tight squeeze,
It's always just enough to let me know you’re still there,
Even if just by one single fiber.
Your body shuffles against the covers,
I don't need to look your way to know that you're already gone,
Back in your own space and away from mine.
I reach over and touch you
But to me you’re not there,
Present you may be, but no longer are you with me.

I passed by your home everyday of my childhood,
knowing what transpired there,
knowing all you did and said.

When your hands touched my body
I was a child
I did not even know there was a name for what you did
I did not even know you silenced me again and again
I did not even know everyone around us kept your secret
I did not even know everyone I told had a duty to protect me.

If they would have done their job,
I would not have had to
walk past your home everyday of my childhood,
knowing that you were behind that green door.
I would not have had to fear you would walk out
and take another piece of my childhood away.

You put the darkness of the world
on the shoulders of a child.

You forced people who loved me into impossible positions and caused mistakes to be made.

You forced me to forgive not only you but everyone who knew and still did nothing.

You caused mistrust to run rampant in my mind
but I lend you my pity
because I can only imagine
what is running rampant in yours.