I try so hard to unfeel things..
Pushing against the walls of my past.
I invite the help of other hands to topple the monumental foundation that is "Kyle."
It never works..
"I'm responsible for my own happiness."
I'm so irresponsible sometimes..

It's the twenty-third of the month
She's finally discovered a rhythm through the days
but soon enough, a new month will show
and she knows
once again
she'll have to adjust

That's the way it always is
the way it's always been

adjust for her mother, adjust for her father
and when she met him-
she suspected he would assume the same

but he told her
her attempts weren't good enough
which he must really have meant-
she wasn't good enough

so he left, barely the start of the month
and she spent the days alone
and that's what she is dealing with now
days of the month
forever taunting her

and if she lets a tear slip at night
well that just further proves-
she's deficient

they told her
but she tried not to listen
in hopes they could be wrong
but they've always been *right

Today
today I struggled with old feelings
I saw what I use to want
although with me,
was want I want now

so

Tonight
tonight I struggle with mixed emotion
between the then and the now
I will choose the now
but I can never forget the then

Sometimes
Some Images
Remind me of you.

A lake. A prayer.
Soft glow of violet, ethereal.
Soft land beneath our feet,
a lustful calling, sweeter greed.

Warm campfire in a blanket of cold.
A speck of hell under a starless sky.
Two hearts fluttering uneasily.
Sparks,
as you bless my palm with a dandelion.
Eternal promise of love.

A playground. Old sunken swings.
A boat of moonlight in it's wings.
Pitched laughter, the creaking of swingboard.
Your hands in mine. Serenity galore.

Christmas trees, laden with lights.
Merry songs. Gifts and sights.
Bliss turns into panic. You cough out blood.
A strange fear
Lingers in the air.

A hospital room. Cold and bright.
A machine with curves beeping fast.
Your hand in mine. Slumped body on bed.
You close your eyes in my arms.
Silence.
Death came at last.

Sometimes
Some Images
Remind me of
an incomplete love.

i feel like a part of my life is missing without you by my side. when my heart felt like it was made of iron and when my mind was a tangled ball of yarn i went to you, you were my ******* muse and my inspiration to keep myself going and when we ended nothing ever felt right again, nothing sits right in my heart, i feel like the pieces are trying to fit together but there's always one part missing and that part is you. i always thought we had the purest form of friendship, it was past the point of being best friends, we were just the same person. we never had secrets, there wasn't really anything we couldn't tell each other. i ******* miss you. maybe this is what being in love is. i used to think people were supposed to make you grow as a person, not complete you, especially the people you fall in love with, but ****, losing you made me rethink that entire theory. i don't feel complete anymore. the most important person in my life left and i feel like my batteries have run dry. you left and it feels like parts of me are gone, dissolved away in the fluidity of your departure. this is love. the people you fall in love with complete you. you can find different people to complete you, but no two will ever fill in the same missing pieces. you knew exactly where i was sad and you healed me. you filled in the blanks where i couldn't myself. it's been a year and i haven't stopped feeling incomplete.

the rain
against the window pane,
pouring down
falling to the ground;
droplets after droplets connecting,
until it slides down.
a mug of hot chocolate,
on the cold table contrasting,
waiting to be drank.
i watch as my favorite kind of days unleash before me,
raindrops falling on my face
bit by bit,
feeling that i should be complete
and yet,

Something's missing.

as the rainy days pass by,
       the same window pane,
       the same mug,
       the same incomplete feeling,

Something's missing.

You.
I am missing you.
I miss you.

—a.c