my heart is continuously transitioning from an icy blue to a happier and fuller sister of red: yellow.
not just any old yellow, but the one that makes your heart rate steady; the soft one. the yellow that lays you down in a field of luscious pink flowers beneath a baby blue sky sprinkled with dusty white cotton ball clouds. she may have even packed a picnic of painfully sweet fruits and a bottle of crisp rosé bubbly. she's the yellow that smells of warm, clean air, and is comfortably cold in your lungs as you gently inhale the heavens, and exhale the weight of the world.
the yellow that feels familiar in all sorts of ways, but you cant quite tell what it is. she can wrap you in her arms as you cry, wiping away the salty stains left by twofold tears as they fell from your harp strings of eyelashes.
come, place your hand over my heart and let me transfer waves of my color to you.
may we be blessed with warm bodies in a cold, cold world.
I sit down with a pen in my hand
after months of wordlessness
to tell you where I’ve been.
I have not written about you in awhile
or had any dreams where you’re there
you haven’t vanished from my life,
I still think about you everyday.
but I’ve found other things to occupy my mind.
The last letter you received was after you
Since then I have been a mess of emotions and
I am back on medications for my episodes
but i have not experienced one in 4 days.
It’s funny… i used to believe i was unloved-
because that’s how you made me feel
but last month i looked up and found myself
surrounded by people that love me.
I was crippled with fear last summer
where everything was difficult to do-
I couldn’t live with it.
Now, it’s like there's every opportunity, choice,
decision in front of me.
it’s a lot to handle sometimes.
I’ve told you how I wanted to end my life
that i’ve been planning for years.
I couldn’t see a few months ahead of me,
I knew I would be dead before Christmas.
I don’t know what’s going to come next,
or what will happen to me.
but I’m planning to be there for it.
You sent a lawyer after me.
Which i expected, but it still surprised me that you would.
I hope your lawyer shares pictures of me living
and being happy. Free.
How does it make you feel?
I write letters about the hard times,
not many about the good.
I’m trying to change that.
letters to massachusets
My memory fails me.
My head cannot contain these
People tend to look more and more
the same every single day.
Sometimes I don't even recognise myself in
My face sags down at the cheeks.
My lips no longer full or pink.
My eyes grey.
No more green.
My world is in this room.
The odd ornament brings
me back- I think.
These brown carpets.
These blue dressed nurses.
These white sheets.
This room is no longer my home.
This world is too confusing.
My family don't visit anymore.
Even if they did I wouldn't remember
what they looked like.
What they smelt like.
The way it felt to hold them.
My hands can't touch as well
They shake and spill.
I don't know what's happening to me.
My mind doesn't work anymore.
Once I was lost I turned up here with
a suitcase I didn't pack and
a promise of weekly visits.
They forgot one week.
They forget the next.
They forget the next.
And they forget the next.
I can't remember what it was
like to feel loved anymore.
I can't curl up in bed.
I'm too stiff.
I'm simply too old.
Please visit the elderly. Sometimes being alone is the hardest fight.
i could make lines somewhere else
but i'm too persistent
and a little too proud
so i'll just type a little harder
You think you’re smarter than everyone else
But you’re not
Nice try though
It was a cute thought
You say anything I can do you can do better
Maybe that’s true right now
But I’ll show you
When I return better than ever
What I will take
And what I will show you
Is not to underestimate me,
You’ll get the clue
When I’ll be on top of my game
And working so hard
You’ll be dizzy thinking about
How I came this far
I’m not doing this for you
I’m doing it for me
I'm not okay.
I'm not going to recover.
I know you expect me to just snap out of it.
But I'm only human.
I'm okay not being okay.
I'm okay being sad.
Yes I'm fine with shedding tears.
I need to get this out.
It's not okay to hide it.
It's not okay to let it go.
It's not okay to bottle it up.
It's not okay to keep pushing me when I say no.
It's not okay to demand things of me. When I have so little energy.
I beg of you please, listen to me. I'm going to be okay, I know.
recovery isn’t cool.
it is exhausting,
terrifying and scary.
to know you have to
lose control completely,
you used to do,
before you are able
to get it back again.
even getting out of bed
is a challenge.
and some days i fail.
but that’s okay,
i’m slowly getting better.
at my own speed.
i’m also learning to have
more faith in what will
come my way and
will not stay.
My face lies flat on the concrete floor,
A torrent of blood oozing from my nose,
The winter air nips at my skin as the snow starts to build upon my back,
I’ve fallen and I can’t get up.
Sometimes depression can leave you feeling lifeless, this is a representation of how I feel when I go into an episode.
(Sorry got more depressing **** I’m really getting around to writing some happier stuff I promise)
i did lines
not just of poetry
it’s the thing that binds
me to myself
i've had a few things hidden up my sleeve.
is too romanticized,
it’s not taking a bite,
or skipping a smoke,
it’s relapse and tears,
runs for weeks or running for weeks,
thoughts constantly stirring,
never fully recovered,
never really alone,