She died.
No one noticed.
No one cried.
No one knows what happened.
She wasn't killed.
She didn't commit.
No one noticed because,
she was still living, still breathing.
It was her true self that died that night.
A mask was placed.
A mask of deception.
Everyone likes the mask.
Everyone but her.
She looks happy on the surface but,
underneath is a damaged girl, wishing
her screams were heard.
She died.
You didn't realize because there
was no wound to show.

Something about how the white lightning illuminating the room  
left me with perfect snapshots of you
or
Something about how your laugh rolled through my head
louder than thunder.
write Something
everyone says,
"write Something"
but all i can think of is the way you called my name.
so i’ll write something about how
i am more pressed petals than full bloom,
something about how miles away feels closer than a breath down my neck,
something about never wanting to hold a hand again.
(but i am not, and it is not, and i do.)

this is the best i can do.

Sometimes I feel like
I’m falling up the stairs.
Defying the laws of gravity,
Making my pain
Just another unknown.

Weightless,
I plummet to the stars -
My arms reaching out
To grasp them.
To be one of them.

And my fingers are so
Close -
An inch away.
But then I remember
I’ll never be as great as them.

Then I drop back to Earth,
Away from the stars
And I’m stuck again -
At the bottom of a
Lawful world.