...

Quiet
a little bit tired
a lot weary
scared (oh so scared)
a jolt of panic
clouds of insecurity...
confusion, wondering wondering wondering
more scared
----------
now a lot sad.
really, really sad.
hurt, too.
fuck.

(I don't write anymore)

Mirrors and Reflection//Who do you think you are?

I need to learn, she laughs.
I need to learn how to stop being cold, need to get warm.
It starts at my feet, the tip of my toes, tiptoes on which I walk upon, and crawls up ever so slowly. It soon becomes a layer of frost over my legs, one that makes me shiver in the night like ice up my spine.
Yes, warmth would be nice.
Her laugh is cold. Her eyes are cold. Icy blue and icy true.
Do you miss him? I ask.
(Did you ever touch his face in the night, while his breath was on yours? Did you ever lean in and feel that warm skin against your own, and knew that this was how you were meant to be? Did you ever lie in his arms, his warm body against yours, melting every inch of ice that encases your nasty little heart?)
No, she said. Her tone is flat.
No, I don’t.
Do you miss being alive? I blurt out, before I even understand what the words are. I’m hesitant to snatch them out of the air and back into my mind, when it was simply a thought and not yet a mistake. I’m too curious.
Oh but I am, she laughs. She’s bitter now.
I wonder if she knows she’s lying to herself, and that each life eats her up, slowly, bit by bit. I wonder if she knows losing herself, one dream at a time, is not something to revel in.
I am alive, she says.
(But you’re not living.)

When I Wasn't Looking

I turn around.
Close my eyes, "Green light!"
Shuffling of feet.
"Red light!"
(I'm too scared to turn around)

I don't wanna play childhood games.

Keep me in the dark, just a little more...

Don’t you know that these ghosts won’t ever go away?

You can kiss his lips, breathe his lungs and she’ll still be

holding on to the deepest part of him.

Just try, she dares, just try to unclench my fist

around his heart and you’ll see:

It’ll fall apart when I do.

I’m what’s holding him together, she laughs, and you are

what’s pulling him apart.


All I want to do is hold his heart, so that should she ever unclench

even for a little bit, even for a second should she let go

he’ll fall safely in my hands. Oh the irony, because we all know

he’s really the one holding on to her. Oh the irony because we both know

that she’s not his ghost. She’s his shining light…

she’s my ghost and you’re leaving me in the dark.













I miss him.

Wrong Love

I pick you up and twist
a million ways, to make me happy.
My fingers cruel, my eyes greedy, lips parted—
Anticipation.
You crumble, a helpless smile.

You pick me up, a fragile bird
lips on cheek and breath on soul.
You hold me gently, I cannot feel
these whisper-fingers. You try but fail
to make me happy, a sad smile.

Lovely
mistakes. It’s what I am, not
what you are but somehow
we manage always
to be mistakes.

But should you
twist, to make me happy, I might
feel. And we might fall. And we’d be mistakes but
I’d be forsaken and you’d be mistaken and
(you’re no mistake).

You touch my heart like you’d touch
your own, but mine craves claws and yours
are soft, whisper-thin. I touch your heart like I’d
touch mine but yours bruises so easily.
My mistake.

Sunken Treasures

You make me wish I could breathe under water
So I could press a kiss to those bruised lips but when I do you
steal my breath and you inhale, inhale
inhale.
And I can't breathe.
You make me wish I could breathe for two, so that
you wouldn't be hurting, and wouldn't be
hurting, hurting
hurting me.
You make me wish that I could pull you to the air
but I'm fastly drowning and you are
holding my hand while we're collapsing,
smiling, smiling,
dying with a smile.
You make me wish I never knew you,
even as I'm defined by you.
You make me wish that I'll never stop wishing.
You make me hate wishing.