From the darkest corners of my soul
To the broken boarders of my heart
I find myself lost in darkness
From what was once an experience with familiarity so clear
That a blind man could paint on canvas...
is now but figments of broken memories
With sadness so deep that no sonnet could convey the depths of my despair
I find myself in the company of an angel's kiss, a demon’s touch.

There’s something not right
I can feel it in my heart
My head is fuzzy
I can’t think straight
What’s happening
Please help me
I’m scared

People keep asking me
"What do you want your life to look like in five years?"

they always cringe when I say
"I just want to fight long enough to open my eyes tomorrow morning."

"You won" he said.
as he slapped a label on my back
Your story's been read
then he left me with the pack

I guess I won
the prize is shame;
a forgotten name,
a lifetime of pain.

At least something's been gained
another award put in the stash
My medallion of empty gold
to help soften my headfirst crash

if growing up meant
bottling it all up inside
then i guess we're just
a bunch of dead bodies
drowned in an ocean of our own despairs.

i can’t do anything correctly.
“stop cutting”
“promise me that you won’t cut”
i hear you, father, every time
that knife glides across my skin.
every time that knife digs in.
every time that knife pours out my feelings.
couldn’t i just disappear?
you wouldn’t be so stressed.
less money spent.
more fun.
no girls in the house.
guys night out.

it’s for you.

I want to write about what hurts because I think it will
Stop me from hurting. If I put these words on
A page then they will be easier to digest.
Poetry isn't curative by creation, it is
Just confession. Still, these remedial
Lines are what I turn to when I am holding
Too much in my hands. Right now, I feel
Like I am overflowing onto the ground below me.
For the first time,
I don't want to write about what hurts. I want
To keep it inside of me and let it burn me. I want
To carry it in my palms for as long as I can.
I should write
About how we've said goodbye so
Many times that it turned into a threat, a weapon
We made with our tongues.
I should write
About how I lied and got away with it,
How you got caught with
Your hands tied and no one to blame.
I should write
About how it was over before we waved the white
Flag, and I know what it means now
To hold onto a sinking ship.
I've never had anything to die for.
I should write about how I've never wanted
Something so much that I devastated it completely.
We loved in harsh conditions, under sun and darkness and
I don't know how to write about how
The love didn't save us.
I don't write about letting go as much as I write about
Holding on, and I want
That to change.
I don't want to write hurt just to feel it.
The next poem I write about you will be
About me. About how I held on and how I let go.
It won't be about your love, it will be about
Mine. It won't stop me from hurting, but
It is how I make it out
Of my love alive.