I am not so sure quite
What frightens me most;
The knowledge that my
Hands could break
You in half, metaphorically,
Or the inability
To judge the way
You could break me, literally.

I find myself lying next to bodies
To feel their heart,
As if their breathing
Could somehow remind me
That I am still here, that
I still breathe among them.

We can destroy the
Homes we made in people,
With the same shaky hands
We used to build them.
We can rip apart the same flesh
We tenderly kissed just hours before.
We are monsters;
I cannot breathe among them.

I've been finding myself
Alone in dark rooms,
Often with the ghost of
Your past and God,
Do we miss you.

I can no longer trust
My judgement on others;
I will lower them to my standard,
I will rip them apart
In my mind until they
Are no longer human,
But rather pawns.
I cannot love you like pawns.

I don't think I can love you at all.

September 6th, 1994
The leaves have started dying
Early this year and so has
My hope for spring.
Wilted flower petals blanket
The ground and I think I can
Relate to the way they've been
Hiding the trees' secrets for
Far too long.

October 31st, 1994
When I was little, Halloween
Was always my favorite holiday
Because I could be anyone I wanted.
I haven't decided if it's
Poignant or powerful that
I never grew out of not
Wanting to be myself.

November 24th, 1994
What is the point of thanksgiving
With a godforsaken family,
And a death wish on the side?
I love him, I love his eyes
And his smile,
I love the way he whispers
My name and the smile
Lines that fill his cheeks.
But being thankful for a boy
That has broken me in half,
Is as ridiculous as a
Thanksgiving with no thanks.

December 14th, 1994
I feel as invisible as ever;
I talk but no one hears me.
He hasn't stopped crying
For the past 48 hours,
"Please stop crying.
Please stop crying.
Please stop crying."
He doesn't reply anymore.

*January 1st 1995
The clock just hit midnight.
I could feel the room fill with
Reminiscent screams of
"Happy New Year" and "I love you"s
Between laughs. They never
Go past arms lengths and
The glasses of champagne seem
To separate us by miles.
I slipped out of the room in
Failed attempts to calm my mind.
Three hours later I heard a familiar
Crying from the bathroom floor.
I've never seen him
Shake so hard before or seen
Such a strong refusal to acknowledge
My hand reaching to comfort.

March 26th, 1995
You know that double sided
Glass they use in police stations?
(Speaking of which, I had an
Astonishingly real dream a
While back that you were
Being questioned in a
Police station about me;
You didn't listen when I tried
To tell you about it.
Your ruby lips shook and
The tear that landed
On the folder in front of you
Reminded me of that rainy day
In August when you said
You loved me.) Anyways...

April 12th, 1995
I sometimes hear you
Screaming my name
In your sleep, but
Not in the way you used to.
How do I keep ending up here?
You sometimes wake up and
Grasp for things that are not there,
And it is as if you wake up
And look for me.
Am I a ghost, or
Do you not hear me anymore?

July 23rd, 1995
You got up early and
Went to church today.
You swore to me you'd never
Step foot in that building again,
So I don't understand why
You keep going.
I often wonder who
You're trying to reach and why.
Your mother keeps referencing
Missing me over lunch and
I don't know why everyone
Seems so stuck on who
I used to be to them when
I was with them.
I know my mind has traveled far,
But I don't feel gone.

August 1st, 1995
You say my name so much--
Why, why do you do that?
You utter it softly, indirect,
Like a reminder.
But you don't look at me anymore
And I'm having trouble
Remembering if your eyes
Were blue, like the tumultuous
Sea when we went to the beach
That day in late October,
Or the stained glass in the church
That's become your hideout.
I'm praying to your God
That you look at me soon,
Because I'm losing the oxygen
In my lungs and your eyes
Are like a breath of fresh air.
Darling, I'm afraid I'm not all here.

September 27th, 1995
I am petrified because
You are not getting better.
I heard your father kicked
You out again and
That you were found four days
Later in the church basement
(Pronounced dead at
6:14 AM, September 24th,
If I remember correctly).
You touch me now, and
I mean really touch me.
You don't cry much anymore,
Maybe when you
Miss you mother or your sister,
But you do not wake up screaming
My name or yelling things at walls.
You may not be getting better,
But a part of you is put to rest and
You have found hospitality
Next to my grave.

November 23rd, 1995
You told me today that the reason
Why you still go to the church
Is because you first kissed
Me in that church basement.
You sometimes remind
Me that I would
Have been better off not
Killing myself at all,
And maybe my brother would
Have grown up a bit
Stronger and more naive.
I learned today that,
On our second Thanksgiving together,
I had something to be thankful for;
You.

Rewind to the first day you
Asked me to marry you.
It was raining, I wanted to kiss you.

December of our first year married;
You woke me up every morning
To watch the snow fall.
I rolled my eyes as you
Watched like a child.
You looked at me the same way.

Our first Christmas together was
About the same. It was
Only two years prior to our marriage
And you bought me a necklace.
I wore it every day
Until the day you left.
I hope the river likes jewelry
As much as I did.

Fast forward to our
Second spring together.
You pulled the car over on the side
Of the road to pick a wild flower.
We were already running late.
We always seemed to do
Everything too late.

Fourteen and a half days later
You told me you wanted me
To buy a nice dress for myself
And meet you at a restaurant.
I told you no,
I had work in the morning.
You drank every night
For a month after that.

You sang to my small unborn baby
Bump every night before bed.
Our next trip to see our baby's face
Did not go as planned.
You never could get me out of that
Black dress after her wake
And your eyes matched it
Perfectly every day after.

Fast forward to the day before you
Asked me to sign the divorce papers.
We made love.
I cried and said "this isn't working."
You said "I know."

I could hear you cry from the
Other side of the bed
And your hands felt miles away.
I remembered the first time
You touched me this way,
Long before your hands
Were calloused.
We were Hell bent on doing it
And I could hear the same lack
Of hesitation in your voice when
You said you had to leave.

Flash back to the first time I told you
I loved you.
I said it too soon. You said it back,
I didn't expect you to.

You left your ring on the
Coffee table our last night.
Suddenly I missed the rings
Of condensation marking the
Table every night and the
Clanking noise your ring
Finger made against the beer
Bottles after every fight.

I wish I could have been enough
To stop you from drinking.
I remember when you drove away.
"Turn around and beg me to stay.
Turn around and beg me to stay."
You didn't turn around and
I did not stay.

I passed the garden we were
Married in on my way to the court
House to sign the final papers.
A couple was leaving, newly wedded.
I find irony in that.

A few years later I passed you
On the street.
It was snowing, you had that same
Look in your eyes.
You smiled at me, a distant
"I'm sorry," smile.
I nodded, but I could not smile back.
You see, I never stopped loving you,
But I was never sorry for
Letting you leave.

I still find your cuff links buried
In my jewelry box some days.  
This is the day I watched the
Locket you gave me
Sink to the bottom of a river.
I think you could find my
Hope lying there, too.

Remember the time you kissed me
In the rain?
First slow and timid, then
Passionate as if it was the
Last time we would ever kiss again.
I apologized thirteen times that day
For things that had
Not happened yet.

I think a piece of me knew all along
I would have to let you leave.
The day I said good bye
The words burned my lips
Like acid exactly like they did that day.
I said "I'm sorry."

Seven hours staring at empty
Beer bottles as you
Slam them on the table.
In fact, it's been months since
You slammed anything but beers
And I think that is where
We started to fall apart.

Three years since you left and
I cannot bring myself to love another.
I bet she is beautiful and
Kind and loving and
I bet she does not cause you to
Drink until you cannot feel.
Three years later and I realize now that
I will love you until I die.

I wore a light blue dress the day you kissed me and every day after to prove that I was in love. I had floral patters around my waist so I could twirl around for you and show you the life inside of my heart.

You squeezed my hand as if every letter of their vows was your silent message to me. Red. We wore red. It took me six months for me to let that dress go, and I swear to God I never felt as beautiful as when the rain poured around us that day.

I wore a black dress for you with ribbons down my spine but every touch snagged the lace and it's starting to hardly cover me spelling only your name across my hips and my sides. Those dresses were the most appropriate for the days I let you take me. Sheer silk laid across the small of my back. I saw an inviting place for your palms but you only saw the zipper.

How fitting is it that I wore a fitted blue dress to my first real date after we gave up (exactly one year, two months and nine days). The same dress we made love in. The first time you did not tell me you loved me after.

A tan dress just like our skin in the summer. I let a you touch me naked and I've never felt fully clothed ever since. Not even the sleeves and loose skirt of my dress could hide the scars no matter how many times I twirled around for someone new.

I wore a polka-dot dress the first time you touched me inappropriately. I remember it being hot out. I wish I wore something else. November 1st, 2013. You would not even look at me after we became one, never mind talk to me.

On Sundays I wore white dresses to feel innocence again. I never failed to ***** the precious pearls lining the collar of my dress every week, though. I felt the bow across my back untie by your hands and the pure white tulle was ruined by my blood stained skin (though it was not the first a life ******* residue remained).

New Years Eve, 2013 I wore the prettiest dress I had ever owned. Apparently he thought it was pretty, too, because a taken boy kissed me in it. I remember being afraid you were drunk. I remember fighting with you. I remember missing you. I remember telling you that you only talked to me because you missed her. There's not a day I don't miss those drunk texts.

I wore multiple colors and threads fabricating all my good memories into a dress except I can't remember much anymore and this is rather skimpy.