This poem is like one large knot.
I'm failing to unravel my thoughts;
Struggling to get my point across.

This poem isn't right.
Mulling the feelings over all night.
Revising only to continue to revise.

This poem isn't what I want it to be.
Typing it out before pressing delete.
Leaving each line incompl-

Pale fingers intertwining,
a bittersweet hand squeeze. 
His thumb softly rubbing against her
cold, silken skin 

--But their faces!
Rosy cheeks, shining eyes
Two staccato heartbeats.
The wind whipped and tossed and screamed,
ebony locks flowing like the whispers 
in the night.

The horizon was near.
The ocean looked up hungrily,
muttering; tempting, teasing
Screams filled the dead air:
Elation, as they leaned in to embrace.

Finally, an exit out of this maze. 
Now we can truly be together
Now we can truly be free.

I'll find you on the other side, darling.

Two extra splashes into the now silent sea, 
Two soaring doves, carefree gemini.

“antidepressants are for people
who are too weak to handle sadness.”

the typical equation:
depression = sadness,
excluding all other variables that may lead to that solution.
because depression does not just equal sadness.
add occasional good days,
subtract all sense of self,
multiply the amount of people you hurt,
divide yourself into two parts:
the person you are,
and the person you want to be.

maybe I am weak.
I could never quite fall into death’s arms,
only tripping and landing at his feet.

maybe I am weak.
the only knots I was ever good at tying
were the ones in my stomach at the thought
of having to go on like this.

maybe I am weak,
but weakness is part of the equation:
solve for why I am alive.
add my name to the list of things I love,
subtract the guilt and anger and resentment,
multiply the hands that hold mine,
divide myself into two parts:
the person I am,
and the person I once was.

maybe I am weak,
but I don’t need to be
anything else.

1997
the roots of my family tree
are shallow and malnourished,
breaking through the Earth's skin as a reminder
that it cannot always keep the ugly
hidden underneath.
my DNA is a life sentence for a crime
I never wanted to commit.

1999
my father called my brother a king
before he even left the womb.
a solar eclipse that has lasted years
because of my inability to escape his shadow;
though, I'm not sure I ever will.
the world will always be his stage,
and I, just a poorly constructed backdrop.

2005
my skin has turned
black and blue back into flesh.
I hope, one day,
my mind takes a lesson from my body
and learns how to forget you.

2011
they call him the all merciful god,
and I can't help but to laugh,
because the only thing he promised
to those who hurt me was forgiveness.
I prayed up until the day
god changed his phone number.
atheism is a learned behavior;
I only wonder when god stopped
believing in me.

2015
I live my life in reverse.
I drink coffee at midnight,
read the epilogues first,
go to bed in the morning.
I spent my childhood in this grave,
now it is time to dig myself out.

01:52 am
have you ever asked yourself like why you so lonely?*

01:53 am
or empty?

that maybe you give too much of your essence to people and never leave any of you for yourself

01:55 am
i know i do

02:05 am
and like that's maybe why i get so attached to humans

because in them,
i find myself

02:07 am
i need to change, because things shouldn't be this way

02:10 am
but it's hard sometimes you know, when most days you don't leave the house because you feel unworthy of the space you take up

02:16 am
so you'd much rather disintegrate into soil because you've become all too familiar with people stepping over you and admiring the outcome of your beauty but never the roots of your pain

02:19 am
i spend so much effort watering people in order for them to grow and hardly get enough sun shine to feed my own soul

02:25 am*
because i don't know how to do anything else but care for everyone but myself

I have never been good with words,
so forgive me for my jumbled thoughts.
I’ve been sorting through them
and tossing out the infected ones,
but my lack of immunity has taken its toll.
I’m not sure if I’ll ever get better,
but, for you,
I will try.

I don’t want to hurt you when I shy away,
so I’ll take the time to scrub out
the fingerprints they’ve left behind.
it may be tedious,
but my body is not their crime scene,
and I don’t need to keep the evidence.
I have never been comfortable with intimacy,
but, for you,
I will try.

I have never been good with coping,
but my hands have forgotten how to tie a knot,
my legs suddenly unable to jump,
my lungs insistent on allowing air in.
I have never been good at dying,
but, for you,
I won’t try
anymore.