Four, nearly five years ago, he was 4 years and 11 months my senior. We would stay up most of the night. Together. Then I would wake up and he would be gone. And after a few months it became a normal thing to wake up alone. Undisturbed and a little cold. Make the bed. Put away dishes. Gather my things. Go home. Wash. Rinse. Repeat. Until one day he was gone for 8 months. No goodbye. No farewell. Just a break up text and disappointment. I would wake up and he would be gone. But this time he would be thousands of miles away. And all I could think about was water. And where the heck he could possibly be. But not wanting to write, because I didn't want to bother him. But I drank and caved in. I was tired of drowning. It was hot there. Over 100 degrees. He sent pictures and wrote back quickly. He came back. He showed me things he bought from other countries. I smiled again. He showed me more pictures. He got a dog. Fast forward another year. I would wake up and he would be gone. It was a normal thing by now. We had a routine. Make the bed. Put away dishes. Play with the dog. Gather my things. Go home. Wash. Rinse. Repeat. Drown. Tell him how I felt. Radio silence. 10ft down. Explain how long I felt that way. No explanation from him. 20ft. No apology. 30ft. Direct questioning on how he felt. Dodged and avoided. 40ft. Go to bed. Wake up. And he's gone again. 50ft. 60ft. And it's cold. I can't feel my toes anymore. And it's getting dark. Play with the dog. 70ft. Make the bed and put away dishes. 80ft. Gather my things. Go home. 90ft. Silence. 100ft. And I'm done. I can no longer breathe. And I can no longer swim. I am sinking. And the pressure of the water is crushing my lungs. For two years I choked on sea water. I lived and I died. I waited. But I didn't cry. At 100ft under the waves tears are pretty pointless. After two years of wanting this thing, this person, I no longer want it. Because it doesn't want me. But I'm still afraid when I wake up. And the bed is empty. And I still panic when someone walks out the door. Because I never know which time will be the last. Or which ocean they're about to cross. And my childlike awe and innocence were thrown overboard and forgotten. It created an obsession for that lifestyle. So I became it. I woke up early. I pushed myself farther than I thought possible. And after years of watching him put his on, I earned my own uniform. And I went back to him. But I felt nothing. I surfaced. I can swim again. I have no feelings. I don't even have ill will anymore. He's only a friend. And there will come a day, quite soon, actually, when he will go home. Halfway across the country. And he won't be back. And I won't see him again. Ever. And that's ok. Because people leave. And sometimes they don't come back. And you're cold and a little disturbed. But you make the bed. Gather your things. And leave. Now the one who has panic attacks, the light sleeper, the one who holds a pillow at night to take the place of a body, and the one who begs you not to go, becomes the one who can't be tied down. She leaves. She drifts. Floating on the waves alone in peace and absolute terror. But not love. Not hate. Because she lost all feeling about 100ft down.

The best part is, 5 years later you're begging for me to enter your life again. Once or twice a week, you're inviting me out with you and your friends. You're asking me what I've been up to, where have I been and why haven't I seen you lately. But I'm here. I have always been here. You were the one who left. Every morning. Your time has passed. I was young and dumb. Which is why you probably never cared much. Understandable. I grew up. And now you see my worth. But so do I. And I will never allow myself to be disrespected like that again. Lesson learned. Now it's your turn to wake up alone. Make your bed. Put away your dishes. Gather your things and go home.

It's been seven months since I last saw everyone that ever mattered to me.
I've been anticipating my homecoming for two months because I missed my family.
I missed my older brother's ridiculous mannerisms,
His goofy laugh and stories.
It's been seven months since I've seen and heard any of that.
I needed my mother, because what child doesn't?
I missed her warm hugs and genuine smiles.
I missed her boyfriend and her silly nicknames she'd come up with for him.
I missed my dad and singing songs around the house with him.
I missed how he'd randomly burst out into song and dance.
I missed the smell of his cologne mixed in with cigarette smoke.
I missed my little brothers and sisters.
The shine in their eyes, the trill of their laughter.
I missed the smell of East Troy after it rains.
The quiet streets at night, and the chill of the air in the mornings.
I missed the lake, the fish, and the bugs.
I'm so happy to be back here spending time with my family and my friends.
That's what I came here to do.
I came here to create memories with my family that I only get to see about twice a year.
My life is perfect right now, and nobody can ruin it.
I'm home, I'm happy, and I don't have to worry about anything or anyone
Except for myself.

Hello Poetry likes me
Hello Poetry loves me

Sometimes Hello Poetry
likes me and loves me

Because Hello Poetry
isn't sure which is best

hell is dreaming about you, and waking up in someone else's bed

As we trot along this cobbled path,
passing leaves of green and buds mid-bloom,
life seems right; the darkness of night at bay with all its gloom.
Our carriage of white portrays rescue from God's wrath.
The sun is radiant and the birds rejoice in its warmth.
We're passing through a town, large in size;
as joyously as the singing birds, we smile on the people.
In passing a church, we're in awe of the steeple.
So tall is the pinnacle, white-washed and nice,
we smile bigger seeing the people as on our side.
But as the sun sets in the west and the coldness of night
draw nearer in haste, the beautiful people change.
Once friendly and welcoming, humorous and kind, now strange,
hateful, and bitter they seem. Their faces, weary and affright,
are thin and pale where fullness once was.
We look on the once busy streets, now one huddled mass.
What happened to the happy, beautiful people?
A sudden crash and we search for the source. Where is the steeple?
Alas! In the road lies a cross, once high in the sky, now in ash.
What people would profane such a symbol of God's love?
By the red glow of the setting sun, our driver quickens our pace.
Searching for a road to travel out of this wretched town;
every turn brings us back to their haunting frowns.
Where smiles once were, worry and fear etch into our faces.
The people watch as we become frantic. They're emotionless.
God, where are you?
At one's suggestion we cry out in prayer. God, answer us!
Then I see myself in the crowd and begin to fuss.
How am I there when I am here? Then, you are there too.
One by one our company appears in the crowd. Panicked,
we become angry. Confused,
we become angry with God. Pointing our fingers in the sky,
we shout curses at "God the Most High".
He's the one that led us, He made us come.
Our carriage has stopped and where an angel once sat driving,
a man turns to us; perfect teeth shone in his grin.
"My friends," the handsome stranger says, "It doesn't have to be."
What could he mean? Where is the angel? Who is he?
Knowing our thoughts, he coolly replies, scratching his chin,
"I am a friend and the angel has left you."
All gasp at this; some shriek in terror.
"Calm yourselves for I have good news!"
Some of us exchange glances but all is silent as he continues,
"God has left you but I can help you through this
evil town. Trust me to save you and it shall be done."
God has abandoned us? Do I believe this stranger's tale?
"Friends, if God was here, would you be a face in that mass?"
He made sense to us. We had been outcast.
"Listen to me, I love you and my plan will not fail."
Simultaneously we submitted to the stranger.
Lord forgive us for we know not what we do.
Lightning cracked across the sky as the sun
disappeared, but where was the moon? The sky held none.
It was to be a full moon as far as we knew.
Then we realized with guilt in our hearts that like
the moon, we no longer reflected the Son.
God had never abandoned us; we left Him. And for what?
The beautiful stranger changed then in every appearance but
the sly grin that was plastered on his face. Satan.
And it was too late to run.
Our carriage disappeared and we fell in the dirt.
We tried to brush the dirt off but the filth remained.
Our white robes were now black tatters.
Besides our sobbing, silence ruled.
By tears our faces, once beautiful, were stained.
Though the night was cool, we were covered in sweat.
Satan was gone though his laugh did still linger;
it was the thunder that followed the lightning's accusing finger.
As the sky mocked us, we huddled together and were met
by the townspeople who slowly came over to our party.
The people we'd seen that looked like us had
all gone, leaving no trace. We all knew the truth though none said.
That we'd become them, weary and pale from foot to head.
We were bitter, but more afraid than mad.
How miserable we became!
Tightly packed we shivered until dawn.
The sun rose and with it the birds.
Without feeling it, our faces grew bright as the green grass.
All of us appeared as beautiful as the town and its mass;
no one spoke in our party, at a loss for words.
Yes, the town's beauty was restored but we knew it to be fake.
This had been these people's lives, acting joyous to please
the fork-tongued stranger who once tricked them as well.
This was a town of lost children of God.
In it we now dwell.
Lost and afraid, this picturesque town only teased.
A white carriage rambled through the scenic town;
its riders laugh in each other's company but
would they continue through to their journey's end,
what awaits them in Heaven, the end that had awaited us?
Oh please! Don not be trapped by the beauty of Satan's town!
Though we wish to warn the unsuspecting strangers,
we are forced like the others to greet rather than warn of dangers.
Unable to control ourselves, we welcome them to our town.
Wanting to tour, they smile at us and awe at the steeple.
We smile back and look high at our beautiful steeple,
we the people.
Hurry and escape before the sun sets!
Rush into the Father's courts and repent for your present dawdle.
Do not linger here for we are rotting in hell.
They begin to leave and just in time too;
for the sun is setting but then so soon,
a rider points into the street and all is not well.
We are already changing into our true form.
Now I know they are trapped for they know we're dead.
It is no use to run but they cry out to God as we had.
I want to encourage them but instead
a rider notices his company appearing in the crowd.
Knowing all is lost, I want to cry; but what's this?
They do not curse God. More fervently than before, they pray.
Satan does not appear in their angel's place.
Finding their way, they leave this godforsaken town.
Though my people are lost, we now have hope.
If they can find God's grace then maybe we can too.
Slowly I feel my strength regaining and I feel anew.
My friends notice the change as I plan to elope.
God save us please.
Most of our company has repented by now;
some chose self pity instead.
God, hide us from the devil as we escape his town. By starlight
we travel on the streets; praying for God's rescue until we come
out of the town and there by the gate,
a beautiful carriage awaits.
God guide us to your home; we promise we'll go straight there.
Though we enjoy nature's beauty, we'll not
go off course to seek it.
For You, oh Lord, have taught
us to not love the world, so we may not become it.

-CM