the emptiness i feel
          a gaping hole in my center
is not relief like they suggest
          the bursting in my heart
          the tearing, searing feeling
is not happiness or new found holiness
          today was not the resolution
but another day in hell
          the hottest yet
          what happens in 9 weeks
does not go away in one day
          i did not want to remember today
          how it felt, what it looked like
but now i feel robbed by the anesthetic and ativan  
         i do not have the closure
        how do i mourn what felt like a dream

suffocating guilt
unbearable loneliness

and so much red.

my knees and ******* protrude
from the still water
like mountains in countries I've never seen
I have always hated
since the time I surpassed the length of the tub
that I could not stretch out
my body looks alien
I don't recognize
the bends and angles
I'm disconnected from my finger tips
as they make ripples
break the surface tension that
holds my brain
holds my soul
the blue ribbon holding me in this porcelain box
I am washed with all my thoughts
my plans I have not made
and when I stand
dripping and cold
I am *****

and as I towel myself
I drain and redraw the tub

again
and again

until I am clean.

I never used to like definitely maybes
but I'm about to walk off the edge of my Earth
slowly, two steps forward, one step back
and all I can think of is indefinite outcomes
he is the only instance where YES
tumbles out of my mouth
tripping over my teeth
and falling on his tongue
but even then
my map is creased in all the wrong places
and never folds back to a functioning square
we link fingers and run with steps lacking synchronicity
I sometimes jump when he lands
he screams when I want to whisper
and I often want to go left at his right
and I will, one day soon
when I get the courage to unfold his kind of clammy hands
from my shaky fist

but I'm scared
of having cold fingers.

It does not take a good photograph

i would never frame such a thing

because it's beauty is not in it's looks

it does not caress your eyes

or invoke sweet words

the beauty is in the feeling

that takes your breath away

sneaks up and suffocates your heart

breaks you and rebuilds you

better

April showers are said to bring May flowers
and if this holds truth
my cheeks will be blushing with roses
freckled in daises and tracked with tulips
in thirty days time
Sorry trips behind my teeth
pushing at their backs
like my tongue
Raw with loose explanation
sore from swallowing sour words
my insides ache from lack of understanding

"I like you this much"
he says
pale arms stretched to their limit,
fingers extended, gently tickling the air;
his face is hardly more than his smile,
which he hates
but when he smiles
I see the sun;
it warms me
in the cheesiest but most sincere way,
I can't get enough;
he is the sun
and I can't escape his pull,
red hair and explosive personality,
he is the sun;
a week without him is winter,
a day in his arms risks a burn.

"I like you this much"
he says
and this time
I don't look for shade

Kids on bikes and big sandy beaches
are no longer her own scraped knees
and a blank canvas to play on.

Boxes of bandaids and just a little more water
do not fix the faults of skin and sandcastles.

She has scars, an ocean within her
and a desire for deserts
that drives her to travel
til she finds what she has been born with.