I reread our old emails instead of listening to my professor

I gaze at our pictures instead of taking new ones

The sun is out, students lay on the grass and soak up the warmth

We have been cold for so long

My hair is growing, and I keep cutting it

The memories held in the split ends are disappearing

Every word can connect to you

California, american cheese, corona, harris teeter

I am becoming the sum of my pain

The aftermath of grief sculpting my heart

I am trying to quit the addictions I held with you

The smoke and drink and sex and pain

My thighs are stretching, my arms gaining width

But my heart is concave, my soul shrinking

Lake Michigan is caribbean blue, brighter than the sky

I’d like to drown in it, swim to the bottom and sleep

My mother calls me every couple days

And I remember that I am a person

My taxes are done, May is approaching

What will happen when I return to the place we fell in love?

the sky, it’s always changing and you have to see every one of its moods

mist that shrouds the morning in mystery

when the number on the scale is smaller than you expected

the ocean waves rolling under thunder

shells half buried by sand

when the house is empty and it’s dark

candles flickering in the dark

meaningful conversations with people who matter

poetry that spills from my pen as if it is overflowing

getting lost in a book

sleep

a really good dream

my dogs and their happy steps

falling asleep in someone’s arms

people who accept you

waking up happy

going to bed content

feeling sexy

loving your body

passing a test

the last day of school

not worrying

cooking food for loved ones

thanksgiving

winter mornings with fire in the stove

knowing you’re enough

as insignificant and faint

as a smudge of charcoal

i am one of the millions of lines

that makes up the masterpiece of your life

i do not stand out and if i were to be erased all together 

it would all be forgotten

i wish i were small

so tiny and waifish that i could sink into the sea

or the brilliant meadow in my mind

and lay there until the roots sink into me and

grow old and strong

until giant oaks and pines and willows

mature around my bones

and shelter me from the world

but they leave a gap between their tendrils so

i can gaze at the constellations drifting in the night 

and the clouds swimming in the sun 

i am free through my shrunken eyes

as i lay lifeless

my rotting corpse will become the sea

the trees

the wind

the sky

and the grass in the meadow all around

death is lovely

shrouded in white

coming to claim

her natural right

she is the constant 

behind the chaos

the sure stone 

among the waves

some day you will die

and join me in the dirt

we outnumber the living

we will not build an army

but a brilliant bouquet

of death 

together seeping into the stars 

below us

I can read a thousand books and i still won’t know

the secrets of the galaxy.

I can live a hundred lives and i still won’t understand

you.

I can write every thought I ever have on paper

and I still won’t be

a good writer.

I will probably never be good enough

for this world:

what it wants, what I want.

They contradict

the reality of who I am:

I am weak

Yet I am still brave.

And I will fall, again and again

but

I

will

rise.

There is a place

I go in my head

To block the fear

It is peaceful, quiet, safe

Like mountains in starlight

The sea at dawn, on fire with color

I go there when 

It is all too much

It does not crumble, like our warped ocean

There is no struggle, constant brawl

It sits like a dove waiting to sing

Before I fall to pieces 

It is the calm amid the chaos

The lighthouse, steering my ship to shore

The flower in the desert of life

It is the unknown heaven

In the back of my mind.

If it’s a question of why, 

I don’t know what to say

I never know the answers

To the questions that burn

My closed eyelids

It’s unanswered questions

That keep my mind 

Wide awake in the dead

Of night, they stay this way

Unknown, a sea of mystery

Never to be forged

Ask the old man down the mountain

The woman by the cliffs

The girl of the meadow

Not me

I’ll have no answer for you

I’ll be the waste of your time

You regret in the end

Ask the wise one, the old one

Not the broken one.

My heart aches at the thought

Of my life without yours

My soul weeps at the inkling

Of you in the ground

Hours pass as seconds, years as days 

But still the fear remains, it does not fade

I hope my life and yours, intertwine in a path

That overlaps every day of our conscious 

Is it too late to stop 

The ever ticking clock?

Maybe, but I’m here

I’ll never stop being here.

And when waters are rough

And we both want peace

We’ll keep each other afloat

Above the dark waves of night.

For my best friend who’s always there for me.

I ache to hear you cry, that you are not enough

I hurt to see you run dry, of all you ever loved

I cry when I hear your pleas, that you may soon end

And I ache

I ache 

I ache 

For you my sweet friend

And if you ever leave 

Me here to struggle alone

I may resent you till

My own struggle draws to a close

I hate hate hate

The way this makes me feel

Like I’d be better off 

Buried in the ground

Know you’re not alone

Cuz I feel this too

Maybe a different kind

But in the same room

They’ll say what they want,

It can cut to the bone,

But please please please 

Know that you’re not alone.

Three droplets on a

leaf

sheltered from the

wind

They sway, they pray

One droplet slips away

Two droplets on a leaf

Happily alone

The third one fell

It rang the bell

Now she is all alone

You know there’s some comfort in the thought that maybe someone will someday read this. Probably not, that’s the great part. Anyway, I’m going to treat this site as a diary because there are almost no views so I have absolutely nothing to lose. This whole idea was just an experiment for me to see if my writing is any good. Yes, I know, flawed logic. I realize it’s a bad idea on all fronts and that my writing really isn’t any good, but I was bored and lonely and I still am so I’m gonna waste my time rambling about how pathetic I am. Dang. Talk about a run on sentence. My English teacher would kill me, but let’s hope and pray he never reads this because… I’m pretty sure he’d cry. This is an idea that only ends in disaster but that’s better than boredom.