ne pensez pas de moi
j'ai besoin d'oublier
même si c'est juste pour une minute
une heure
un jour

I'm tired.
I don't want the false claims
Only for you to forget and go on
Because ******* you promised me
And I need you now
As I lie in bed
Crying to sleep,
How you told me you wouldn't
Be the cause to my pain
But here we are
And all I need,
Even as I lie here in the everlasting bottomless pit of melancholy
Is your arms.
Even though I want to hurt you so bad
Make you feel my pain...
I just want you to hold me.
Tell me it'll be alright.
That you've changed.

Guess something never change, huh?

It's too late for anything now
To patch it all up
Make sure every one is happy

It's just too late

I'm too far gone to be saved and I don't know if I want to be saved.

one.

    When she cries herself to sleep
    six out of seven nights a week you must
    say nothing. You must simply take
    her in your arms and kiss her gaunt,
    pale cheeks and wait for her to
    slumber at the sound of your heart.

two.

    On the days where she wishes she
    were part of the stars, tell her
    no. Tell her that there are too many
    lights in the sky and that just one
    would be forgotten the moment you looked
    away from it. Tell her that she is perfect
    the way she is: completely human.

three.

     Don't let her think about the scars
     that no one but her can see. If she
     says "I think I'm broken" smile like you
     know a secret and say, "No, you're mending."
     But do not be the one to fix her - no, she
     must be the one to do it herself, and you
     merely are there to quietly encourage her.

four.

     Read her poetry (even if you are
     not a poet), the kind that uses
     flowery words and compares girls to
     the moon; the kind that you will
     rewrite for her. Make her a warrior.
     Make her a goddess with eyes like a
     wolf's and a smile like a tiger's.

five.

     Laugh with her the first thing in
     the morning and the last thing before
     you fall asleep. Tell her cheap puns
     that you've been thinking of for weeks.
     And when she smiles - the type of smile
     that could bring you to your knees if
     you aren't careful - know that for the
     moment, she's yours. She is whole.

six.

    Love her. Love her like a fish loves
    the sea or a bird loves the sky. Love
    her in the way that your heart feels like
    it's going to burst at any moment every
    time it beats. Love her skin and the way
    it feels against your own, soft and warm
    and utterly flawless. Love her for the way
    her voice trembles when she can't keep it
    together anymore and love her when she
    holds onto you as if you were the only
    thing that was keeping her alive.

seven.**

     Love her, because some days she just can't do it herself.

I held my phone.
And started to scan your pictures.
Strong surges of nostalgia pile up.
Memories became a movie in my head.

12:51am
You texted me.
"How are you?"
My mind's shouting
"Im not fine. I miss you so bad and it hurts this much."


1:30am
Thoughts are clouding my mind.
What ifs get under way.
Why did we end up like this?
What have we done to each other?


2:58am
A war in my mind's in ******
I cant get you out of my mind.
How's me? I dont know. I dont know.
You left me. I think Im fine. Really.


4:59am
The night's soon to end or so I thought?
The sun will come out in any minute to welcome me.
You were like the moon, you left me in my darkest moment.
And I still have no sun to shelter me.


6am
I was drunk with my thoughts of you.
My eyes are blurry because of tears.
My tears drown me in bed.
I am wrecked.



7:30am
My senses are tired.
They kept on shouting for me to take a glance at them.
I ignored them when you left me.
I havent been okay since then, I guess.


9:51am
The city is so busy like me.
Im tired, Im leaving now.
Now ask me before I go:
"How are you?"
I'll be fine. I hope you miss me too.


11:58am
A lifeless girl in bed with a letter beside her was found.

sometimes,
often times,
i am cold.
there is snow within me and wild winds outside my door,
and i watch from the window while my crops wither.

i silence the sun.

he stands at my gate with nimble fingers and begs to be let in,
but i have always been a grove of shadows,
and he knows there is no space for him.

sometimes,
often times,
i am cold.

but other times,
spring finds me.
it lifts me up into its gentle arms and suddenly i am a field of clovers,
lucky,
rising up.
suddenly i am baby’s breath, i am pure,
i am a blooming hyacinth.

i am warm.

i know what a change in season feels like.

and i try to be loving.
but on the days when i have gotten up
and planted my seeds,
you are still tangled in thick black weeds and roots.
on the days when i am a rose,
you are the thorns,
and on the days when i grant the sun a chance to speak,
you take his tongue.

i know your pain; i have lived it.
but i will not give up my songbirds just because you are only left with crows.

i know what a change in season feels like,
but you are always winter.
and sometimes, i am spring.

so i will flourish.
and i am sorry.

(a.m.)

step one:
do not look at their mouth,
for you will expect to see rivers flowing from it,
poetry slipping through the space between their lips
in the same way that the wind slips through the space underneath a door,
but instead you will only see spit and saliva
and a tongue too big for its home.

step two:
do not look at their hands,
for you will expect them to craft cities from marble right before your very eyes,
but instead it will be just the thumbs,
the twiddling of thumbs,
the aimlessness, the senselessness,
the lack of experience with building empires.

step three:
do not look at their eyes,
for they say that the eyes are the windows to the soul,
and when you see that the curtains have been drawn,
you will feel so very alone.

step four:
i did not love you.
you have to repeat it.
i did not love you.
i did not love you.
i did not love you;
i loved what i thought you would be.
i thought you would be eden,
but you were only the apple.

step five:
i suppose i am to blame here
for digging holes too big to fill,
for crafting shoes too big to fit in.
and for that i am sorry.
i am sorry that i expected more from you
than i even expect from myself.

step six:
human.
human.
let the word roll off and around your tongue,
let it cover every inch of the inside of your mouth.
say it. over and over again.
say it. like it is foreign and you need to know what it means.
say it.
and when you have said it enough times and it feels
dull, old,
disappointing,
you will know that we are nothing more than flesh and bone,
and that as much as we wish there were gods among us,
flesh always rots in the end.
this is the beast of truth that we cannot outrun.
hands cannot craft cities from marble
if only given clay.

step seven:**
do not let this frighten you.
clay, after all,
was meant for molding.

(a.m.)