I heard it.
The pain in your refrain.
The joy in your verses.
The defeat in your chords,
The melody in the noises.
I heard it.
That certain moment,
When you finally let go.
The broken choruses,
freest in the echoes.
I heard it.
The words you haven't told me.
The music you haven't sung.
The breeze that is your sea,
And the waves that you say I am.

But if I am what you say,
Then why do you close your eyes
While letting me go away?
Don't let go--
Help me hold on to you.
Don't let go--
Hold me.
Embrace me.
Absorb me.

I have known what you feel now--
And I have built walls around my heart.
But stand up,
stop singing.
Stand up,
start walking.
Stand up,
and close the distance.
Hold my hand,
And let me understand.

Tell me now, and cast away the shadows.
Let me be that place you will always call home.

Everyone watched as you slipped into a coma.
Quietly, subtley, your mind exited the room of
white walls, white sheets, white everything.
Why are hospitals always white inside?
It makes me jealous more than anything.

We all watched your consciousness recede.
But then, I wasn't there, was I?
You wouldn't know, I think.
You wrote me a note to say goodbye.
A final note... Why?

You lost so much blood, sweetie.
Just how many pills did you need?!
Was the knife not enough,
you had to overdose as well?
I miss you so much.

I would always hold you when you cried.
It's my fault I left.
I kissed you goodbye while you slept.
I still love you.
Forgive me!
Come back to me, my run-away friend.

Has someone out there ever felt the need
to be part of something
bigger?

I'm not talking sports
music
school
or family

I'm talking character

Am I the only hollow being in this empty galaxy

who longs for an emotion to call their own?

Texting someone and waiting on a reply
It's taking so long I just might die
I'll be a pile of bones
Before they get to their phone

a forgotten cardboard box in the garage
filled with your childhood toys
after the basement flooded
my edges are soaked and moldy
and when you pick me up
I will break
and my stuffing will fall out.

the unfinished scarf I started to knit
when I was eight
and quickly disposed of
for something more entertaining

the dry, crusted ****
from my sister's dog that
consistently, and unfaillingly
is on one of my favorite shirts
whenever I come home.

the moldy cup of orange juice
that sat on the top of my dresser
at my dad's for maybe two months
when I was 12
that I was too disgusted
to clean and wash down the drain
so it just sat
until finally I just opened my window
and threw it as far as I could
letting
nature make something of my trash.

my best friend when I was 14
told me she didn't want to be friends with me
because her mom thought I was a ****
and because
I ate her french fries
without asking.
earlier that year she wet the bed
when she was sleeping over my house.
I didn't make fun of her for it.

the sheets with her ***** stain on them that I threw into the wash.

the paper towels I used to soak up her ****.