Sometimes I cry alone
Other times I do nothing
Nothing at all
Once I did a lot – in one day
But it wasn’t me
Went back inside
Closed the curtains
Opened ‘em: it was pouring
And I loved it
Skies and gods wept
Along with me
Staring outside, longing
For everything
And one day I wished
I wrote a song for Sienna
Who I never knew
But loved for nothing more
Than two sounds, combined
Into melody.

She unrolled the blueprints
that she had designed.
Building from the wreck that was left behind.

She salvaged the rubble and ruins
and cement of broken promises
granulating and churning it to nothing more than sand;
allowing it to form the foundation of her own future.

She raised one naked agony brick after the other,
cementing it with love and care.

Planting seeds of melancholy,
she watered them with her tears
and watched as the sun's warmth let them bloom
and the moon that let them rest.

She weaved curtains
and plastered the ruins.

She became the gardener,
the architect
and the nurse
of her own self and life.

- Beautiful Sensitive Soul

the curtains rise and all i can think about are the rows of faces that i know nothing about and the pressure of putting on a good show
my body moves according to muscle memory as the music starts to play

don't miss your cue
don't miss your cue
don't miss your cue

i hit each note and beat as needed, but that's just the first scene
you come up on stage once again the same time i do
and you look at me the way you were instructed to do so

don't break character
don't break character
don't break character

i deliver the lines as i'd internalized for
but little do you know i'm dying inside
we're told to look eye to eye for this one song
and i slide my fingers through the spaces between yours

don't fall in love
don't fall in love
don't fall in love

i braced myself for the last few notes of the song, but i braced myself even more for the reality that is to come once the curtains come down

i approach you offstage with every intention to tell you what i feel
but i miss my cue

i put on a strong face to show i'm not hurting
but i break character

i told myself i wouldn't let my feelings get in the way
but i fell in love

Written upon brittle hands of bone and skin
The lingering sensations that slip into forgotten memory
Body craving touch like starved children
Singing songs of silence
Like lullabies for the child's weary eyelids to
         Drop...
                      Drop...
                                   Drop...
       Curtains from the rain.

I've fallen in love with a ghost, a man, an angel with crooked wings.
I've fallen in love with the way he speaks, every tick and twitch, the way he looks when he's anxious.
I want to preserve him in poems and picture books.
His soul bears the weight of every cigarette and tear he has shed.

Poor lonely ghost, why do you hide behind closed curtains and mountain man ****** hair?
Poor lonely ghost, no one can get close to you,
Only because you are too scared of getting hurt.
So instead, you hurt yourself because it's easier this way.
Poor lonely ghost, you live inside a cave, insist it's better being alone with your things and your heavy thoughts.
But the weight, it grows.
Poor soul, you were not built to hold the weight of a lonely mans world.
With all of his tears and broken hearts and anxieties and cigarettes and sad poetry.

Please take care of yourself, my lonely ghost.
And please try to open to curtains and watch the sunrise.