She keeps songs
locked away in boxes
like secrets.
She will take them out
like postcards
to help her remember
the feeling of
a different time,
a different person
by her side.
She likes the one
that makes her
eyes close
to see the lights.
She smiles at
the one that  
makes her stand
up on tiptoes,
the one that
helps her forget
she doesn’t know
what to do
with her hands.

The tune
will carry her.

Like it did
the times when
voices broke
like a heart.
When instruments’ strings
would snap
and hurt.

A waste of space
moves from place to place
with a shameless haste
and a graceless face.
All the space that's wasted
cut and pasted
freedom encased
though briefly tasted.
Laid to waste
that wasted space
limbs were taped
and there defaced;
the sign said "Waste"
to home we raced
at a frenetic pace
footprints traced.
The edge of space
where fruit met waste -
a confusing place
reeks of **** and fine lace.
A waste of space
wearing my face
lost the race
to the black dog's pace.
But just in case
here's a place that
cannot be wasted:
bed frame's embrace.

In the middle of a crowded room,
full of bad mouths with good hearts,
I ask:

"What's the point of a trigger warning if you're just gonna pull it anyway?"

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press your forehead on the barrel of hope
put your neck inside the optimist's rope
jump off a bridge, into the warm light below...

...crack your skull on the idea of tomorrow.

Have you ever liked someone so much you regret meeting them?

What if every little thought
That lives inside your head
Instead of hiding away in there
Was spoken out, was said?

Would you be embarrassed?
Would you hate your mouth?
Would you rather be mute
Than let the truth come out?

What if every little thing
That people thought of you
Instead of being tucked away
Was heard, was listened to?

Would you be ashamed?
Would you cover your ears?
Would you rather be deaf
Than let the truth come near?

And what if every image
That passes through your thoughts
Was freed from its prison
To roam until it rots?

Would you be disgusted?
Would you look away?
Would you rather be blind
Than see your thoughts at play?