1am

I looked quickly the window
Instinctively found light
I looked harder
No light
1am

Feelings raw
Eyes red
Things making both every and no sense at all

Counting the hours,
If I sleep now
And giving up

Until
Daylight comes.

Advertisements

Stars

Until our stars meet
I’ll be looking up the sky
Lit by the moonlight
And know that somewhere
You could see the same Constellations that I do.

Breathe the same air
And rest your feet
On the same land where I sit.

Until our stars
Meet
I shall write letters
That your eyes might never read.

And if that time never comes
And the stars all run out
Burnt out by their own passion
I shall line my path to you
With candles lit by hope
That you’re on your way too.

Silence

Silence.
The worst trigger in the world.

For the loudest shouts
Can be covered by music.
And the strongest sound
Of breaking things
Can be denied by soothing whispers to oneself.

But silence.
The solace,
And the reason why I need one–

It’s loudest in my mind.
Echoing.
Of times gone.
Of the oldest fear.
Of everything
Once left behind.

Silence.

Textbook Heroine

I’m sorry I can’t be
Your textbook heroine
To power through everything
Gracefully
Perfectly.

I’m sorry I can’t be
Your textbook heroine
To do everything that’s right
Without crying every night.

I’m sorry I can’t be
Your textbook heroine
To face everything
Without panic attacks
Mood swings
And anxiety.

But.

I am a heroine
Because I faced everything
Trudging, aching,
And I’ve won my battle scars.
And I wear them with pride.

I am a heroine
For I shed tears every night
And wipe them in the morning.

I am a heroine
Because I had panic attacks
And mood swings
And anxiety—
And I faced everything
Dancing in the rain.

On My Solitude

What makes you think I’m lonely?
The silence?
The solitude?

What makes you think this is a relapse?
My history?
My past?

What makes you think I’m struggling?
The fact that I’m not letting anyone in?
The fact that I wouldn’t let anything out?

I’ve let everything out.
Mostly.
I’ve let people in.
Some.
And this–
This isn’t me cr u m  b  l   i    n   g
This isn’t me suffering:

This is me
Immersing
In my self.
This is me
Keeping touch
With who I am.
This I me.
This is who I am.

Day 350

You break my heart
Without you even knowing it
That it scares me
How much it’ll hurt
If you do it.
Consciously.

But.

You make my everyday so much
Still, without you knowing it
That I can’t even begin to imagine
When you do it.
Willingly.

And.

Through the course of our lives
With time slipping past our eyes
Like sand between our fingers
You held me tightly
And I, you.
And we were spinning.
Whirling.
Fast.
Until you let go.
And I,
Grasping thin air
Flew away
Agaisnt my will.

Shattered I landed
Where you first picked me up.
And realized.
That it is I
Who has to put myself back together.
It is I who has to brace myself.
It is I.

And you.
Estranged.
In some place where I don’t think I exist.
Looked back.
Came back.
Wanted to be back.
And so do I.

Yes.
I know now.
This isn’t a peaceful place.
We are nowhere there.
We are in our storm.
But if we stay in the eye.
Eye to eye.
We can make it.

Yes.
I know now.
This isn’t the ideal
Or not how others will think of it, in fact–
This is chaos.
Dysfunctional.
But it’s ours.
And like demeted souls,
We love it.
This beautiful, beautiful tragedy.