It took me seven years
to realise
the words in my mind
were too deep for
my mouth to dig up
I thought it was easier
to open my skin
and let the truth
pour down my arms

It took me seven years
to realise
nobody should be allowed
to touch parts
of your home
or hold pieces  
of your heart
that you don't yet understand

It took me seven years
to realise
I will wear these scars
forever
I'll carry them
through every smile
every kiss
every concerned gaze
I'll carry them
to my grave

It took me seven years
to realise
the pain carved
into the walls
of my castle
etchings of
attempting to disappear
are not a story of weakness
but a tale of
how I survived

I met a man yesterday.
He said something about eagles in Thailand.
and how your first love has a 90% chance of betraying you.

"tell me something I don't know"
"you're weird."
"tell me something I don't know"
"what happened to your eyes?"
"what happened to my eyes?"
"they don't have depth"

"tell me something I don't know"

he told me again that there's a 90% chance your first love will betray you.
I looked at this bright-eyed man and thought he doesn't know anything about me.
And I was struck by the colors of his eyes.
It's amber.
four or maybe six different shades of amber.

It's the color of autumn in New England,
It's the color of fire that's not too hot nor too bland.
It's the color of sunset in the Grand Canyon.
It's the color of the words, "Welcome home."

"There's a 90% chance that your first love will betray you."

My eyes are burning.

"But there's a 100% chance that it will get better."

My hands are shaking.

"All you have to do is let him go."

seven years.
*******.

"Put an end to everything that hurts."

If she was a symphony,
He was the tune.

If she was a sickness,
He was immune.

If she was a riddle,
He was the answer.

If she was a song,
He was the dancer.

If she was the moon,
He was outer space.

If she was a broken heart,
He put each part back in place.

most people see me as
a happy person because
i laugh easily,
i smile a lot,
i joke a lot.

but deep down
in my heart,
i am fragile,
i can get hurt easily,
but i choose to not
show it to the world.

instead of being sad,
i choose to laugh to cover it.
maybe you can call me
"the queen of the mask"

by this,
you can tell
that most of the time
when I'm laughing,
I'm not really laughing,
i was trying so hard to hide
my sadness.

my grip is slipping,
and falling scares me.
my world is fading away.
h      
          e
                     l
                             p
       m
                 e

h
          e
                    l
                          ­     p
          m
                     e

writing was an escape but even now words slip off the paper like tear drops.

Sleep.
It is all I can think about.
The moment my eyes close,
Peace takes over.
Anxiety I once felt slips off my shoulders.
I am free.
Free of judgment,
Free of ***** looks,
Free of name calling.
I am free.
Sleep.
My favorite part of the day.
When the world slips away,
Turns to black,
And for a few hours,
I am blissfully numb.
Sleep.
I need more of it.
It's addicting.
The feeling of being free.
I crave sleep as if it were a drug.
Maybe it is a drug.
How can something so comforting,
So free,
So peaceful,
Not be a drug?
Sleep.