From experience,
I've realised that a
poem never changed anything.

i used to go to sleep anxious
for morning
to see your smile along with the sun
now i drift into unconsciousness
hoping to stay there
a little longer
knowing my dreams
are the only place i'll be seeing you

I thirst for this blaring noise
That flows into my veins
Like the cheesy jokes
That slide from your lips
Because I want to remain deaf
Be oblivious to the orchestra inside
With symphonies only of your baby blues
And those pictures of the full moon
That you sent me.

I will miss you at college, I really will.
I won’t miss the wrinkled brows, at my too-heavy-eyeliner wearing face.
But i’ll probably come home make up free
with a head full of purple hair.
I know i’ll walk through the door sometime and you’ll be horrified.
And maybe you won’t want to sit in Starbucks with me.

And when your friends are bragging about their daughters,
saying mine got a full ride to Notre Dame,
or mine was recently proposed to,
you’re going to say,
“mine is happy.”
And maybe that will be enough.

our story needed to be shared
it was epic
with moments of divine beautiful happiness
and moments of raw animalistic pain
so i attempted to write it down

it took me years of reliving every detail
writing on napkins in coffee shops
and receipts in grocery stores

it took me years of memories
three suicide attempts
and two men i never really loved

i finished last night
i finished our story
------------------------------------
and then my screen lit up
and then the walls came down
and then i realized our story hasn't ended
all we've been through is the prologue

Moonwalking on a
tightrope
Let the fire
burn
our safety net
If we fall the
ashes
shall catch us

I make up
conversations
in my head
constructed from the
words you never
say.

I still can't decide
if silence
would be preferable.