I am still growing into myself,
My arms a bit too long for my legs,
A mind a little heavy for these shoulders,
Eyes that see more than they should,
And ears that love the sound of
the sinner's tongue

Your puzzle piece thoughts scattered
around dining room table,
when you click-clacked your
way out of our lives, Bullet in cereal bowl,
was not the surprise buried in the box,
Momma says I look just like you,
Sometimes she replaces my name with yours,
I have to remind her of last november,
And all the scarlet in the morning

When the woman you love is a poet,
It is hard to tell the difference,
between a poem and a conversation,
When the woman you love is a poet,
She will never speak her thoughts,
I have to decipher the lines,
When the woman you love is a poet,
It's hard not to be ensnared by the words,
And remember that the notes she sings,
Were not all for you

I'm sorry that it's taken me so long to feel the impact of your absence
To see that you were taken by a substance
I'm sorry I was never there
Not once to wash away your fears
Nor tuck you in at night
Take away the fright
But the death I found lying sweetly in your eyes
Dug craters in my skin cells
Soft and precious little dents

I had to clean the blood away
Couldn't stand to see you there
So I scrapped and scrubbed
Until the thought of you had passed
But in this role, I was sickeningly miscast
And nothing could have stopped you
Not a single plead nor shriek
You left as fast as you had come
Without a cry nor squeak
And I could swear I saw you in the mirror
Walking hand in hand with death
But you did not look behind you
Not even at your ****

I'm sorry I didn't make it to the funeral
And I'm sorry I barely cried
I'm sorry that I let your sister see you while you died
I'm sorry that I blame you for my suffering
And that I'm still recovering

But most importantly
I'm sorry that I didn't save you
I'm sorry that it was too late
And I'm sorry I couldn't save you from the pain that drove you to your fate
That I couldn't take away your misery
Couldn't take away the evil
That you had to look for happiness inside a little needle

I burn things so i can feel
the ashes vanishing away
as i blow them off
the ground
I burn people's photographs
so i can feel
their eyes dying just
like their memories
in my mind
yet they never do
I burn myself
so i can feel
the heat of the life
that i've never had the chance
to live at its fullest
because i was way too busy
burning my sadness away
yet it knows
how to come back to life &
fulfill my mind.

I don't wish at 11:11 anymore, he took that from me.

It would have been six months today, if you had stayed.

everything is strange and eerily quiet
and i am not allowed the delicacy
of feeling sad
and i am not allowed
to feel anything
i am hiding bad habits underneath
makeup and there are blooming
bruises on my arms and
she is so beautiful but she's dousing me in kerosene
nights and lighting matches for her cigarettes on top of me
but i - i - i am not allowed to feel this
i am not allowed to feel this
sixteen years is not enough, it's
never going to enough, i am
never going to be
enough

there's no relief in death
but there's some sweet ecstasy within it
which i've been literally dying to try.