There are so many memories
That are stuck in my mind
Some that bring tears
And remind me that I'm just fine
However, no matter how attached or not
You are to these memories
They will always come back to you
To haunt the rest of your life

these are my apologetic heartbeats
i am sorry but i will be late
because my arteries are running behind
and you will get there before me
but please don’t take it to heart
(that’s a pun
to lighten the mood)

nothing but the metaphorical truth
because i speak better in images
and pretty thoughts
and objects replacing feelings
so i can actually hold them
touch them
prove their existence

i think i’ll take this tightening in my chest
and turn it into a rubber band
stretch it between my two hands
and snap it
releasing the tension

i think i’ll take this weakness in my stomach
and turn it into a butterfly
which is pretty generic
but i want it to fly away

i think i’ll take this somewhat guilty weight
and turn it into a stone
grey and lifeless
and pointless
and i will drop it into the water
see the ripples spreading outwards
and touch them for good luck
tasting the tips of my fingers
to alleviate the cold

i think i’ll take this weird emptiness
and turn it into a poem
so i can raise the words up and run my fingers
through the letters
so i can print it and frame it
and smash the glass
and take the blood
and stain the paper
and crumple it up
and throw it down
to prove that it exists

and see if
when i look down at myself
the words are there
the glass is there
the blood is there
the lines are there
and i have been thrown onto the ground

these are my apologetic heartbeats
saying
sorry
but you cannot make us concrete
until you write us down
are you happy now?

Bitter.
Enfold me in it.
Steel body and diamond crusted ears
So I can feel no pain
And hear no outer influences.

   Hard.
   Turn me into stone.
   Infuse me, weld my cracks
   From a past never to be renewed
   And too stoic to ever feel another's warmth.

      Bold.
      Let myself take whomever I want
      Whenever I want
      Without consequence of being
      Anything but concrete.

         I'll be the manifestation of a developing polaroid
         Only to be swayed and
         Persuaded to come into focus
         By the tickle of murmured wind
         And golden embers of light.

             Black and white
             Color
             Negative
             Sepia­
             I could be it all.

All these kids got
Sweet ***-pics
Of them around campus
After graduation
And all I’ve got
Is this lame *** pic
With me and three double chins.

I think I may like pictures too much.
Hang them on walls, tack them to the fridge, hiding in shoe boxes,
let me show you the ones from my wallet.
Smiling,
trapped but happy.
Captured.
Ordered to stay within the glossy boundaries. 
Maybe it's matte,
as long as it's framed right. 
Running my fingers along the circumference of the nostalgic circle,
Barricaded again and again, "I miss when"-
Held hostage behind the too examined life.
I think I like pictures too much.

One magpie on my balcony
makes me finally begin to feel
I am in the need of company from
Either the only thing that is real
Benign life being alone aloof or
To morn a dark separate from night in my sleep it took away from my eyes
All of my best years with a symphony
Of skeletal men set on high
Stabbing and singing me
These death lullabies
Howling my bones away
Hollow as child's play
One magpie Singing me to sleep

And the songbird gives me hope
When sleep offers no home
Waking up hours before the end of the day

The brilliant blue of the sky today made me think of the color of your eyes in the bright light coming through your car windows, and how she was right next to you driving, blissfully unaware that you were torturing me with pictures of your face.

my friends send me pictures of them together
they send them when i'm at my weakest
not when i'm particularly sad
just when i'm the most vulnerable to become sad
i never get them when i'm happy and looking good
never when i'm cute and proud to be me
only at the times when i'm doubting myself
and feeling like my old self again


they don’t think about what theyre doing
they don’t need to

its my problem, not theirs.
i feel ignored if i'm not given full attention



but
have i ever been given full attention

What the hell am I supposed to do?
With you used to be easy,
Meant for two.
Now it gets harder,
As the days drift by
We used to be so close together,
Why did you say goodbye?
She paints a pretty picture
But no one's there to see
She paints her tears on paper
And then she looks at me
I can't help her pain
I don't even try.
I just sit here crying,
As she dies inside.
I'm singing, "Oh, oh, oh"
I can feel her pain
To sacred to even stay
I tried to warn them all
But no one listened to me
They all ignored
While I had the key.
She paints a pretty picture
But no one's there to see
She paints her tears on paper
And then she looks at me
I can't help her pain
I don't even try.
I just sit here crying,
As she dies inside.
I'm singing, "Oh, oh, oh"
I can feel her pa-ain-ain
To scared to even stay
Too sacred to-
Save her life
Stop her tears,
They fell like waterfalls
That no one can hear.
Until they stopped-
She painted a pretty picture
But no one was there to see
She painted her tears on paper
And then she looked at me
I couldn't help her pain
I didn't even try.
I just sit here crying,
While she has gone to die.
Now that she is gone,
I hear her in the wind.
Endless cries of laughter,
Endless days of summer
Endless...days of...
Nothing to live for
Nothing to gain.
Now that she has gone away.
Nothing stays the same.
I paint a pretty picture.
No one's there to see,
I paint my grief on paper,
She cries down to me,
Tells me "Stop!"
As the paper turns red.
I see a figure
All dressed in white,
I see a figure,
Dancing through the night.
They paint a picture
of her and me
They turn around
And it's her I see and she's forgiven me.
Clouds of white
Blue skies below
I am with her.
Forever home.

A picture can paint a thousand words
To me
*A word can paint a thousand pictures