I keep telling myself to not look back in anger,
but I wonder what I'd even look back to.
How much of you is left;
or has your Chicago been built over by a more Chicago?

Sometimes you can't see the stars
because the constellations are in the way
in the way that only your love
can be more you than you.

Some day that tea cup
will put itself back together
and it will all start to collapse;
hold me closely then?

Hold my hand
sit near me
let me sink into your lap
just please don't leave me alone with my thoughts
or lack thereof

You see,
if you leave.
my head will not scatter into a million deadly shards
it will do quite the opposite
it will collapse

whatever you do, don't leave me,
not now.
you see if you leave
I lose my sanity
I lose my restraint

the second you turn your head and walk out that door
my eyes will well
my heart  will lose its rhythm
My hands  will shake
and my breath won't be able to claw its way up my throat anymore.

You don't have to say anything
you don't have to do anything
just please don't leave
I'm scared of what happens when you leave --
please don't leave...

midnight every day
I lie in bed haunted by my own thoughts
and a question echoes through my bones
“can you really do it?”

almost two decades of the same thing
this question that bears down on me
is what I do enough?
is all of this exhaustion enough to prove something?

oftentimes I let myself be lost
between the lines and the colors and the textures
tangled in the words the world has bestowed upon me
trapped in the frames of what I display to the world

but with every piece I showcase
a part of me is eternally in each one
and the more I give to this earth
the less I have to myself

sometimes I let myself collapse into nothingness
breaking myself beyond repair
trying to find weakness and striking there
just to pour more into the art that I struggle to create

is there really anything good that will come out of this?
is using every ounce of my heart and soul worth every single day?

but if there is anything this cruel world has taught me
it is that I do not just give up on what I love
and what I love might be the death of me
and yet it is the immortality that will carry me on
it is the beauty that I am willing to leave behind