Here I'm, left with all the things we bought together
Each with a story of it's own, walking me down the memory lane
Of the deeds we did together.

First shower, first ***, first fight & first laugh
All wrapped into the things we bought for each other
Waiting for me to set them on fire.

Things are bad.
They've always been bad.
And I'll tell you a secret...
Bad things will keep happening.
But life is too short
to treat it as a spectator sport.
So don't wait for the bad times to end
To start living again

mom?
dad?
you there?

there’s so much I want to say
and too much time to say it

and it hurts and throbs and I want to let it out

but I don’t want to ruin the happy haven we’ve made

just like me at 7 laughing joyously with her friends then getting a cut on her toe from a rock and the cut hurt and throbbed but she kept going because she wanted to have fun and the cut hurt and throbbed and got infected

(there’s always a price to pay for waiting)

here I am laughing joyously as my (our) secret hurts and throbs and I

I’m weak aren’t I

I can’t
I can’t muster up the courage to break the silence
too scared of lies on the other side I guess

coward

but

I just want to ask or to hear or to confirm or anything to let me know I know I don’t deserve to know but the knowledge affects me too and I need to know don’t you know?

you don’t

I’ll keep it in as I always do
wishing for the truth but ready to ignore it if it comes

you there?
dad?
mom?

Seeming as though they want to crawl inside
I invite every word you sowed into my home

Restless they skitter into every corner of my room
Make themselves comfortable in my bed
Unslept in, untidy

I click my pen absentmindedly at the desk as I write
But each sentence is a copy of your kisses

You came, paved the road through icy snow
And I don’t want to reject your passion
Perhaps because, akin to my features
I am unloved

The only one there for me
The only fickle heart that
Didn’t always seem so worthless

This world revolves around an atmosphere of
Shaky hands and nervous glances
Long walks and apologies

No matter how many times I laugh
It isn’t enough to silence the poor restive dog
But the door to the backyard is locked
Don’t make me find the key

I need an answer
when you don't give me a question.

break from this hiatus of pressure
back to ultimate rebirth
there is room for a different world
in action

your hands are
a morgue for
the memory
of who I used to
be & I hate it.

i hate the shadows
that follow me in
the night
with your stalky
frame & unforgiving
hands.

I, a year ago, was a
frame of who I used
to be, trying to forget
the people in my life
who missed my ghost
more than
I did.










I cried. screamed.
I promise I fought.
but in the end, I
was a room
without an echo.

so many people used to
tell me that I had a
voice loud enough to
change the world.
but now, I
can’t even write a simple
poem.