I have had dreams for 3 nights in a row where I am strong like ocean currents, I am amber rose sunsets, I am graceful, I am outspoken drunk girl in bar but I have not had a drink; I have swallowed everything else until now, in these dreams where I am strong. In these dreams that I have had for 3 nights in a row, you are wrong and Justice is my sneaker on your throat, it is your apology dripping venom off your tongue, it is you asking for my mercy instead of me asking you to stop over and over. In these dreams, I am telling you what you did to me in front of a  room of people that you love, instead of a room full of people that I love asking me how I even got into this situation. In these dreams, I am crushing your words in my hand and planting flowers with the dirt and dust I took out of my throat. I give them as an apology to my partner for the year we spent trying to put me back together and it only kind of working.  In these dreams I am already healed, as a past participle and as a present state, I am not fearful that I will not ever change the way I walk in the street, I can go on my old campus without forgetting how to breathe, I can do anything, really. In these dreams, for 3 nights I have been the kind of strong that other women who have had this happen to them look to for strength, I have rooted my forgiveness deep in my chest where resentment used to lay. In these dreams I am a woman I love who does not blame herself. In these dreams I am hurting you and you cannot speak. I swallow the irony. I am outspoken and loudly tell the world our story- and every time you beg or plead or say “no” I tell it again so they can hear me. In my dreams people finally hear me. I have been sleeping in.

paralyzing.
a black hole ******* me in
nausea creeps in waves starting in my stomach
hot then cold
and sweating
I can't get comfortable
I can't bear it.
I gag and *****
until there's nothing left
but something claws me to
dizzying spells anyways.
I cry to spill the fears inside
but none the less they continue to reside.
I travel wearily through the evening
just to find a hopeful feeling
I am met with,
all the more nothing.
so why move? I stay rooted in
a single position,
waiting for it to find me.

but my hearts in my throat and I'm starting to choke
on the nothingness that surrounds me.
I can't breathe,
I find no solace in sleep.
This must be the final chapter.

(II)

I suppose it makes sense,
I'm so broken
beyond repair anyway
what's the point?
my paint is peeling
my walls are cracking
my floorboards creak with every step
I'm a mess
I'm a wreck
no really, save yourself
leave me dead.

you don't have to stay
just do me one last favour?
put a gun to my head
paint the walls with blood and lead
and take my pain away.

You told me you loved me
with honey dripping from your lips
and blood fell from my fingertips
as I ran back to you
guilt in my face
when they asked me why I stayed
I thought your flickering eyes
meant change
but all I got were bruises
behind my pumping veins
and a type of love
that was never meant to be real.
I only found broken lightbulbs
behind my dimming pupils
and aching bones
holding myself up.
Every day was a mistake,
bending backwards just to say
draining prayers for something more
and hoping God
would walk through the door
and save me.
It was all a lie,
feebly accepting that maybe
I was going to die unhappy
and alone
with someone who said they loved me
but only knew love as
****** knuckles
and never ending pain.

Her finger met the trigger
Squeezing it with ease
Sorrow was the bullet
Shot straight through her heart
Shattering it to pieces
The exit wound clear to see
That same bullet punctured me
Bleeding out regrets
Giving what I have to give
So she can live once more
So she can dream again
I give her every piece of me
To show her it's worth living
But in the end, I can't pretend
My breathing ever fleeting

“I am alone but I am not lonely” is what I say to myself. I have thoughts,  words, memories screaming through my body, keeping me busy, tormenting me. Blood drips into the bathwater I substitute for human touch. I can see my pain now, I have a reason to cry, but my bathwater chills and ideas of someone holding me die and I’m alone again, but not lonely. I have dishes to do and I remember doing them with her, and her memory keeps me company. The dishwater chills as I take my time, stretching the moment. Any longer and my hands would numb like my heart. I am alone again, but not lonely. I have a bed to crawl into and a pillow to hold like I once held somebody. I have her kiss imprinted on my memory and I let that lull me to sleep. I am alone and maybe I am lonely.