There is something looming over my city—
The city of my mind.
Something way bigger than you or me or the world entirely.
Oh, how I tried to protect my desolate little town.
(Where my home is all around)

There are things I can’t show you, fair confidante.
There are things in my city that even I don’t want to see.
(Don’t check the graveyard, too bad I go there everyday)

The corpses of past love and remorse
Tend to like to
Take a little walk
Outside of their burial spot.

“Watch out for them,” I say.
But you don’t seem afraid
To traverse the uneven roads of my mind
Everyday.

Oh no, I’m afraid you’ve run into the criminals of innocence—
The killers of that childlike luminescence.

You fight them without being phased,
But can’t you see the festering wound?
If bubbles over like a steaming cauldron—
It swells like a soon-to-be mother’s belly.

Every time you slay a threatening man,
The wound is opened further.
Seething,
Teeming with bacteria,
The wound rots,
And when I notice it, it’s too late.

You have bored a **** into my desolate little community


Unknowingly.

An ugly mark
On my broken heart.

But it’s okay.

For it’s time to start another day.


and the state of my body

                                     is that of


             utter

                               d
                                       E

                                   C
                  a
     y

It is morning,
And the sun shines again.

It is morning,
And the crippled man rises from his wheelchair for the first time.
He falls, but that experience isn’t worth a dime.

It is morning,
And for the first time, the depressed girl sits up in her bed.
She lays back down again, her mind
(thoughtlessly)
open.

It is morning,
And the miserable lot of souls heading to work
Look up into the sky,
Even if it means burning their weary business eyes.


It is morning,
And the ill-fallen girl raises her hand to the sky.

Her hope is renewed



                    one

last
                                         time.

The look of distaste
Spreads across your face.

Yes, this is indeed
Deserved hate.

I just came in
And took your place.

Yes, indeed,
This is my designated fate.

We have nothing in common,
But we both know the same feeling.

We both know the feeling of loving someone more then ourselves.

Yes, indeed,
It is guilty I plead.

So crucify me,
Pin me to a wall,
And stab me—
I don’t care.

For all of it
Is deserved by me.

A thousand times over,



I am sorry

Thousands of miles away
Is the one who thinks of you everyday.

Day after day,
I am the one that causes her dismay.

“Goodnight, I love you.”
Is the thing I always say
But I don’t fall asleep,
Nor do I dream.

But I lay there
Lucky to love you
Without a care.

And what’s stopping you
From loving her
When she comes back?

When she dresses up nice and looks you in the eyes and says
“Can you be mine?”

What’s stopping you
From loving her
The way you did before?




What’s stopping you from leaving me

                       when she smiles beautifully?

The glistening tile—
The shiny mirror.

The clear shower curtain—
The silver faucets.

The box of tissues—
The marble counter.

The bright lights—
The green rug.

The green rug
That my knees collapse onto.

The silver faucet
That releases the water
I splash my face with.

The box of tissues—
My only reliable friend.

The marble counter
That I slam my fists on top of.

The door that I lock—
The handle that remains unturned.


Please leave me here


In my place of eternal concern.

Together
We stand,
Hand in hand,
Ready for the bad things to come our way.

Together we lay,
To end the day,
And for our affection there will be no delay.

And tomorrow we will wake,
And our backs will ache.
But since we are together,
It will go down smoothly,
Like a velvety and smooth bite of cake.

And through the streets we walk,
Making small talk,
And stopping to write our names on the wall
In a colorful chalk.

We dye our souls,
With the flame of a thousand coals.
We walk the streets,
Me looking at you,
And you looking at me.

I think of the pure indulgence,
The joy of mirth,
The feeling of freedom.

I think of how I saw it in her eyes,
In her expression.

All of these things came together and formed what we call a smile.

I think of the dimples in her cheeks,
The soft skin I loved to kiss.

I think of her full lips,
And the hair she had that was never stiff.

I think of how
When she enjoyed chocolate,
There would always be some left
On the corners of that beautiful smile.

I reminisce
Upon the beautiful times we spent together.

The feeling of her fingers intertwined in mine,
Her tired head being rested on my shoulder,
And a smile—
A rare smile.

This smile was like no other.
It was not the one she gave to people when they complimented her,
Or the smile she gave when she received a gift.

This smile
Was the smile she wore
When she was with me.

A special smile,
One only for me.

Oh, how I miss her lips,
And her quick, determined smile—
It was slightly crooked, but that made it all the more beautiful.

Oh, how I miss her confidence,
The perfect posture and easiness.

Oh, how I miss her hair,
Because even when thrown up without a care,
It landed perfectly—
Every hair.


And oh—
Oh how I miss her other side.

The one she hides,
But not with lies.

This is the side
She shows to me
When we are both
Very lonely.

She tried and tried with all her might,
But she could not do so on that lonely night.

That night,


She decided to give up the fight.


Oh, how I miss her,



Naked and vulnerable



On that December night.