How dare you
I'm the one that kept you company  
So you would sleep all day after
Didn't it feel good?

Remember what we talked about?
The music we found, the sketches we made
Please don't talk about that
Don't bring up the anxiety

What a word, anyways! Right?!
Anxiety. Doesn't even sound good when you say it
You could function.
Maybe you weren't who you wanted to be but you did fine. We did fine

Pills to sleep?
I hope you become the best of friends.
You and those pills.
You're gonna be one of them,
you know.
One of the go-getters. The tight-collared robots that march around like they own the night.
They didn't stay up like us.
They don't know the night.

Fine. Take the pills. Get up with the sun.
See if I miss you.
I won't. Not even some.

I wish I could always feel this rush
this warmth, this ease
this trust
Then, I might be called crazy for the way I act
if its anything like whats happening
within me

So, then I wish my mind took photos
But a picture won't do
what even a few minutes next to you
does to me

Then I wish you could see it
Maybe, that your heart I've played war with
might recognize mine
as it's Guardian
or it's harbor

I know these are all just wishes
and even if wishes were real
you only get three

But if I could have one more
I'd wish you were here, with me, tonight
tangled up in me
and asleep
Then I could feel the rush
and remember the way you fit

And I'd whisper
"I love you."
even though you wouldn't hear me
Because you might hear it in your dream
then wake up in the light and start to believe the truth

That I'm yours
No where to run, no escape plans or exits
Purely, solely, wholly
Yours.

It might not have been the best choice to come back
Even though the air is sweeter than I remember
Even though they've cleaned up the place

He's still in the woodwork
under my skin, mostly
A phantom begging to tear away my new skin and reveal to everyone who I used to be
I don't look the same
I don't sound the same
But until I let it go
I'm still him, who I was.

The new shirts feel good
The tiny cardboard apartment
with my name on the lease
feels alright
She's sweet. She forgives a past she wasn't even a part of
But still, it's heavy on me like that winter coat. Coursing through me like rushing water lacking dams.
It isn't hard to relish in the new delights
The hard thing to do
is forgive him, who I was.

I sit here angry with the writer (myself)
for his overuse of cliches, for his underuse of relatable things
Scorning his very existence.
    "Why would you write, you fool?"
"Ah, It's an escape for you! Who gives you the right?"
No one does.
If you must, continue

I'd rather I heard 1,000 bad poems tonight
than let you sleep without writing a one.