If you knew how your actions
Are like dagger blades ******
Into the deepest parts of my soul,
Would it matter to you
To pull them out and tend the wounds
They leave behind?

Or would you turn
*Yet another blind eye?

Someone asked me the other day
If I knew you.
A million replies shot through my head,
But the one that came out of my mouth
Was, "No, not anymore."
At first I thought this was a straight up lie,
But as I started to turn away
And move on to something else,
I realized it wasn't.

I don't know you anymore.
I can't remember what your face looks like.
That might have something to do with
The fact that I try to avoid
All photos of you.
Actually, I avoid anything
That might send a memory of you
Flashing across my eyelids.
I'm wary of sleeping again
Because I don't want to dream of you.
I've stopped listening to country music
Because the emotions it evokes from me
Remind me of the times I was with you.
I've stopped playing my guitar and violin
Because I was happiest
Playing them for you.
I've stopped living because without you,
It's just not good enough.
You told me that you'd never leave,
That no matter what our relationship
Eventually looked like
You'd always be my family.
But you did leave,
And I don't have a family.
I've been wallowing in
That for months now.
Bemoaning my loss.
Not exactly grieving,
For to grieve involves
Facing certain things and
Deciding to let them go and move on.
No,
I have been wallowing in a hole of self-pity.
And it's rather disgusting.
Covered with the mud and
**** that is my life.
No wonder people don't want
Long-term relationships with me.
I'm broken and not worth their time
Or energy or life.

I've got to face the music now.
I've got to decide to stand up,
Wash myself off, and leave
This somewhat
Comfortable-only-because-it's-familiar hole.
And I think that I've somewhat
Begun to do that.
I mean, how else could I have said
"No, not anymore"
And meant it.
It's a good thing
I don't know you anymore.
You were part of my past.
But you were also someone
Who kept me in that hole.
And even though
A part of my heart loved you,
I don't want that hole to be my life.

So I'm standing up for myself now.
I'm washing myself off.
And this time, I'm doing the walking away.
From now on, when someone asks me
if I know you,
I think I'll continue to reply,

*"No, not anymore."

My fingertips pause
Over worn out keys
On a board that's seen
Better days, but that was years ago
When the muses were fresh,
The utterance adequate,
The language clear and precise,
The sonnets and haikus flowing
Easily from thought to tongue to finger to page.
Things have changed greatly since then.

My fingertips pause
Over worn out keys
Because some things
Are too hard to voice.
Some pains go so deep in my soul
That not even I know they exist.
Some memories so old
Of a childhood first snow
Or teenage habitual mistake
Or adolescent innocent fantasy
Have faded to a sepia-tone
Not able to be conveyed on paper.
Some experiences too personal
That sharing would ruin them forever
Because no one else could fully appreciate
What it means
To me
In my life,
Both past and future.

So silence descends
As my fingertips pause
Over worn out keys
On a board that's seen
Better days.

For how do I type out a poem
When keys have gone missing,
Like some of the pieces of my soul?

Everyone says
"Oh, don't worry! It's just a phase."
Or even worse,
"You'll grow out of it soon."
And so you begin to think
That the quirks and smirks
You see in the mirror
When you've wiped the shower fog clear
Are somehow wrong and undesirable
To the masses of others outside your door
Even if what you see makes you happy.
And so you try to hide
Behind conformity and masks
Of aloofness,
Of apathy,
Of indifference,
Of nonchalance,
Until you yourself begin to believe
You've passed the phase!
You've grown out of it!
You're finally someone whom the world
Can pour its love and adoration on!
And so you wait for that sparkling moment,
When you go from ugly duckling
To ravishing debonair desirable swan,
Yet the days turn into weeks into months,
And finally years have passed away
But nothing happened.
And you find yourself wiping away
The shower fog with a tired hand
Only to see the quirks and smirks
That used to make you happy
Are gone and for what gain to you?
Where are the masses of adoring friends?
Where are the praises of who you've become?
You're all alone like you've always been.

But I ask you,
Is this really who you want to be?

Where's the girl who recites Chaucer?
And rolls down grassy hills?
Where is she whose snarky comments
Could hours of hilarity fill?
Where's the girl who laid bricks
Side by side with her father?
And imagined up the neighborhood
Olympics with his other two daughters?

So I'll ask you again,
Face in my mirror,
Are you happy?
*Is this who we're going to be?

I pulled an all-nighter.
For an insomniac
That doesn't seem like
Such a great thing,
But there's a difference.
Staying up all night
Because I can't fall asleep
Is immensely different
From staying up
Because I'm trying not to sleep.
And you know that as an insomniac
I love sleep
Because it's so fleeting
Like whispers of wind
Slipping through my fingers--
Practically impossible to grasp!
And despite this...

I pulled an all-nighter
*Because I was waiting for you.

If you'd only let me,
I would give you back every moment
of happiness you feel we lost together,
and all the lost potential,
tossed away by the harm
of our addictions.

I would.

Would you give me back
the one and only thing
I would ever say you took from me,
if you could?