it has been one year, eleven months, and four days since i last saw your face
since i watched your hand raise to your lips like a nun in silent prayer in a farewell
just for me
through the ***** window
as i held the folded up note in my hand like my heart that was drawn with the words i needed to explain to you that I was scared I would forget how to breathe with you gone
that i still needed you
and then you were gone, your body disappeared out sight
it has been one year, eleven months, and four days since you left
and now i have something to say
i was sixteen years old, and my eyes were bright
i was sixteen and the way you dragged your fingertips across my back as you walked by like mice scurrying across the floor made me feel more than i ever thought it was possible to feel
how naive of me
i was sixteen and when your rough lips grazed my ear like an animal stalking its prey my heart exploded for every single possibility that your words held
i was sixteen and every time my father struck me i could feel it reverberating through my bones because my tender mind hadn’t caught up with my aching body yet and i knew  i knew that you were wrong
but when you stroked my hair and kissed my fingertips and your hands grasped my waist like you were holding on for dear life the only truth i could hear above the frantic beating of my heart was that you wanted me
that you validated me
you weaved your hands between my ribs and slipped your fingers around my heart and when you left YOU RIPPED OUT MY HEART AND TOOK IT WITH YOU
YOU SHATTERED EVERY WAY IN WHICH I THOUGHT I WAS WORTHWHILE

i’m not sixteen anymore
and i spent one year, eleven months, and four days trying to make the pieces of my broken self fit together in the same way that they did before your eyes become the reason that i smiled every day
i’ve spent all this time trying to tell myself that it wasn’t my fault, wasn’t my fault, wasn’t my fault WASN’T MY FAULT
I DON’T CARE WHAT THEY SAY BECAUSE YOU CAN’T TELL ME IM WISE FOR MY AGE WHEN I LET A MONSTER REDEFINE THE TRUTHS I THOUGHT I KNEW ABOUT MYSELF
it has been one year, eleven months, and four days
I want my heart back

I was addicted to it, in its entirety.
I was addicted to the feel of it in my hand
And to the way it felt on my pale skin,
I was addicted to its scent
And to its welcoming friendliness.
But most of all I was addicted to the undeniable escape it gave me,
An escape like no other,
An escape that couldn't be offered by anything
Or anyone
Else.
An escape that my friends could not provide
That my family didn't understand
And that my enemies loathed the thought of.
Because as I drew it across my pale skin,
I forgot about the mental pain I was going through
And focused
On the physical pain I was forcing upon myself.
I replaced my mental pain
With my physical pain
And it felt good.
Too good.
Slowly but surely
I grew more and more addicted
To its sweet sweet scent
And its blissful feel
And its so called escape.
The only problem is
I don't want to escape from the mental pains anymore
I want to escape from the mental torture
Which forces me to pick up that blade
From time to time when I'm feeling low.
I don't want to force the pain upon myself anymore
But the pleasure
That comes with that pain
Makes it impossible to stop.
It's addictive...
Highly addictive.

I want you to know that I understand
I see the sadness in your eyes
I see the emptiness and longing
It's familiar and painful
and I want more than anything
to make it better for you,
but I'm still trying to stay afloat too
and in trying to help you
we'd both drown

So paralyzed by my own self hatred
I can't even feel the bugs crawling across my skin
I want them to eat me alive so I become one with the earth,
Because I don't belong here as a person

I heard the train, and I ran.
Desperate to make it to the tracks before it passed.
Is there a way to pass this as an accident?
I'm desperate to die as the positive, loving person people think I am.
And die to make up for the mistakes I've made and people I've hurt.
Here I am, I hear it near.
I'm gripped by fear that someone will figure out it was self inflicted.
It passes and I break.
So ashamed of who I am, with the knowledge that only I can change it.
And I gave up on myself years ago.
Never really gave it 100%
I regret it now, as I carry myself back to the world.
A cloud over my head.
I will smile as people greet me and compliment me.
But I am a tortured devil that one day, won't be scared of being viewed as a coward, and I will run into the train with a heart finally full of happiness.

What if I,
in artless youth,
had never heard that call to life?
Had never gazed upon that beacon
And found a world beyond my own?
I may have loved my ignorant prison,
cherished those gossamer walls of thought,
evaded that thirst for wretched freedom,
and left alone
those dank recesses,
content to slink away
existence upon existence.

Never would I have borne
the timid wings of aspiration---
a sudden quickening:
turning ambition,
turning desire,
turning identity.

Never would I
have kissed the sweet earth goodbye,
embraced the rush of wind and sky and soared
into the enthralling
the intoxicating
the cavernous--
Big Blue.

Ambition unbound!
How did it feel
to free the fatal sun-seared wax and flesh,
and witness plumed Promise plunge
down.
down.
down.
into the gaping sea
perhaps resurfacing on some unknown shore?

it's hard to think of
your own faults
when others
have larger ones.

it's hard to pray
for yourself
when someone needs
it more.

this week i realized,
that when i am depressed,
other people bring out
my grace.

"It was rather beautiful;
The way she put her insecurities to sleep,
And the way he dove into her eyes and starved
All the fears and tasted all the dreams,
She kept beneath her bones."