What are my fears, my hopes, my dreams made of—
are they made of the softest silk or a

pile
of
bricks

strewn in the corner.

Are they made of the

lightest                  or
             feathers           clouds

or are they just as heavy and ugly as my fears.

What am I made of,
Am I made of anything at all?

I can't remember the last time I felt like
I am more than a test score,
an application, a list, a graph of numbers comparing me
and a thousand other students

just
like
me.

Sleepiness has consumed
me lately—
my eyelashes
have little
tiny weights
on the tip
dragging my eyelids down
I don’t know
if I am
tired of life
or resting
to start anew.

She jumps in bed
letting the tide
of blankets
cover her.
She drowns in cotton,
in fleece,
in tears.
Plunging into the waves
watching bubbles rise
she chooses to go
the other way.

I wonder
how many times
I will lie
by your side,
face-caked,
back-turned,
pretending to be asleep.

I wonder
how many times
we will lie
without saying a word.

I still care.
I’m still sad.
I still miss you.
But
you’ve moved on
and no matter
how much poetry
I write about you,
It is unable
to fill the hole
in my heart
that aches

just

for

you.

i held your hand
as it grew cold

i looked into your eyes
as they dulled

i felt for your heart
as it stopped beating

i cried for your life
as you lost it.

I wake up
Every morning
Crusted over,
Like some sort of pastry.
The effects
From a night of crying
While I sleep—
Again.