It was the rose
Who he misses
That once was his
Until one day he shattered it into pieces

It was the willow
Who he mistook for love
But he refuses to believe
That he's now in the sharp-edged of betrayal

The rose he was once longing for
Has grown itself into a magnificent one
Guarded by mischievous sacred shields
Even he can't divert any glance without causing his heart to hurt
But he'd do anything for his rose

And the willow too has grown
Into a dauntingly poisonous one
Also hazardous to touch
Even he's suffocating from the lies it built

He begin to wonder for the sake of love
For the guilt of breaking his rose
For misunderstanding his love

And he began to misses his rose once again
Though he doesn't deserve much
He's willing to get hurt to earn its love
It was his rose after all—
Who he hurt millions time harder a while ago

I couldn’t help myself.
Digging my nails into myself wasn’t enough.

I didn’t want to bite my lip because in a few  days,
I’d be swapping spit with a stranger and I would have
No idea where he’d have been.

I squeezed down on my fingers,
And for a second
I thought I might snap one.

In my head, I was falling.
Even though he walked over
Placed his hand on my thigh,
Even though part of me wanted
To melt
And
Dissolve into his arms,
My mind was a million miles away.

Even as he bent over to look at me,
My eyes would not…
Could not...
Make contact.

He was just a blur.

I knew I was somehow holding my breath
And hyperventilating at the same time.

Was it really such a big deal?
So he woke me up and said some choice words.

Was he even yelling at me?

It felt like he was.

Ripped from nightmare to awaken into another.

It was everything I had not to lock myself in the bathroom,
And by lock, I mean...
Stuffing a towel into the hole where the doorknob was supposed to be, Pushing my back against the door
In a feeble attempt
To create some distance between me and the monster.

But besides the fact he could easily push the door open,
I wasn’t sure if the monster I was referring to was him.
Or within me.

The tissues piled up as I discreetly wiped my tears.
Don’t give him the pleasure of knowing he broke you.
But he knew
I stared blankly at the laptop in front of me,
Tabs open to self-harm help sites.
But I was just absent-mindedly scrolling,
The words barely sinking in.

Was I waiting for the moment to pass?
Or for him to leave me alone for a few seconds?

Somewhere in the distance an exasperated sigh
Signaled he’d grown weary of caring.
Or pretending to care.

My mind raced back and forth
Between demonizing him
And demonizing myself.

I heard the footsteps go down the stairs,
A fridge door open…
Then close.

And when the smell of food wafted up to where I sat, shaking..
I realized I’d be going hungry today.

But it didn’t seem to matter.

What mattered was the space I now had.

He had said I was bright red,
But  I could feel the color draining out of my face
As I held the lit lighter at an angle.

In this position,
The flames licked the metal,
Heating it to a purposeful degree.

Time slowed down.
As I lowered the cheap 7-11 Bic to my skin,
I made the conscious decision to choose an area I could cover.

Contact!
Chills suddenly trickled down my spine,
Every neuron ablaze,
And for a brief second:
Bliss.
Relief.
Release
Relapse.
.
It was nowhere near as good as a blade.
But I couldn’t afford more scars.
At least not the kind that would take weeks to heal.

I pulled the blanket
The one I had made before my grandmothers death,
Around my shoulders.
Lit the green trinket again,
Kissed it to the skin of my ankle.

Once.
Twice.
Three times.

By the fourth I knew I had to stop.
Not because I’d be caught.
No he was downstairs
Enjoying the food I slaved away to make yesterday.
I was convinced none would be saved for me....

I had to stop because I could feel myself ramping up and the goal was discretion.
Lest I be accused of trying to manipulate him.
The pain radiated upwards, a warm stab against chilled skin.

Suddenly, I was exhausted.
I wanted to close my eyes and sleep.
Instead, I took a swig from the bottle
Nestled against the foot of the bed.
Silence fell over the house, and even though
At the edges of my consciousness
I could pick up on the low tones of conversation,
The buzzing in my ears drowned out those nuances.

“Maybe I should just lay down for a second.”

Time passed, and once again he was in the room.
Despite hearing him come in, I still jumped when he touched me.
I forced myself to direct my gaze, but it all felt empty.
Words were coming out of his mouth.
Where they questions?
He was calling me weird.
Telling me how I was bringing down the energy in the room with my depression.

He asked me  something and I nodded.
Once.
Twice.

Suddenly he disappeared.

He seemed happy.
Like in some twisted way, my brokenness brought him joy.
Squirreled himself away
In the bathroom I had original wanted to esape to.

I wondered...
If he was ******* to the idea of my wanting to **** myself.

I shook the thought off.
It wouldn’t be surprising.
It didn’t make a difference.

I couldn’t tell how many minutes bled away, but I eventually arose.
Tossed off the covers.
Lit a cigarette.
And allowed the numbness to take over.

As badly as I wanted to sleep, I knew dreams would offer no respite.
My mind merely cycled
Through suicidal scenarios I could not give into.

This is reality.
The last few days were an illusion.
I wish I was brave enough to draw a last breath,
but knew I had no option but to keep living.

I am found
in newspaper print
a clue of
fragmented illusion.
Reduced to a
muddy shoe print,
I turn the page.

I'd isolate myself and sit for hours if I could
Paying little mind to the things I know I should.
I'm slowly losing interest,
I feel misunderstood.
If I could fix these problems in a heartbeat then I would.

he perceived their silence as rejection
yet always craved affection

I hope he finds his Ms.Understanding, because all he is was misunderstood.

Just as the skies, dark and clouded,
in every breath,
in every heart beat,
my soul pespires pain.
And defeat seems to be pushing me down.

In every thought,
in every memory,
there is nothing blissful,
but the memories of my sad past.

In every sound,
in every word i hear,
it is only words of discourage,
and sounds i wish to condemn.

Yet still,
i sit here all alone,
crowded by the souls that care less,
hoping for the day to be over soon,
i just cant wait to be all alone
in meditation
and drain out all the profound experiences of my desolate heart.

To: the silent boy,

I see you.

Sitting quiet and alone.

Your muted posture shades you from a world you just don't know.

I could be angry at you.
I could ignore your very being,
But that makes me a pure example of the numbness you must be feeling.

It's not fair, I know.
It's not fair you feel that way.
I wish I noticed sooner.
I wish I let you say.

See, a son is not brought up to be a perfect little daughter.
A son is expected to wear a shield with a solid coat of armor.

You were told to stand up tall and live the life you were given.
You were forced to walk in the shoes of a man who already had to live in.

Listen.

Fairness is not always practiced.
Equality is a dream.
Understanding is misunderstood
But absence is not the key.

If you wish to change their minds and prove you have a voice.
Take off those shoes your wearing and prove you have a choice.

There are people in this world who are willing to hear you speak.
They are open to your ideas.
They are people just like me.

I see you,

Sitting quiet and alone.

But if you take away their lives,
Your feelings will go unknown.

Your power can make a difference.
Your power can be heard.
Your power to open their eyes can help them not only see but learn.

Your choice is only yours.
No one can take that away.
Your voice is even louder but only if they stay.

Use your voice to reason.
Use your choice for good.
And if you use your power,
You WILL be understood.

When they understand you
They will see your not alone
They will see that there are others and they will prove to you, I know.

Their eyes will finally open.
Their minds will then deploy
A solution of acceptance

To: the silent boy.

Ken and Barbie drive around
in their matchbox cars in my small town
its bright yellow with a stripe you'll see
how hard they try, and wanna be
admired by everyone /including me
stepford wives, and soccer moms
stepford husbands mowing lawns
with perfect twins that keep them in
competition to hide their sins
their tongues spew knives from their lips
about a neighbor that's not so hip...
they're so busy judging everyone
they don't notice flowers in the sun
words, or art -- or people like me
that don't fit in the picture they see
I stand alone in my small town
while Ken, and Barbie drive around.