Self Care.

Her writing became a band aid. Underneath, you’d see where scars laid. Bookmarks the spot of her oldest wound. Turn the page to her newest bruise.

Open cuts between metaphors. Each chapter covers swollen sores… surrounding Similes of ripped flesh like pages torn. Paragraphs of skin graphs. Broken bones under fresh drafts. Fractures wrapped in comic laughter. Notepad enhanced as her fingertips danced.

Write,

erase.

Type it up,

stop.

Read.

Backspace….

Keep typing,

re-writing.

Proofreads and editing.

New pain. New page.

Write,

re-read and write again.

Hearing the growth of her never-ending cracks. Knowing Her heart is soon to collapse…

Open a new doc to prepare for impact.

Understood (free write).

connected

I wondered if he really knew me.

I watched the clouds grow dark and make the sky look heavy.

Waited for that first drop to hit the street.

Then ran outside. Just me and my bare feet.

I wondered if he listened when I’d speak.

If he understood when I’d tell him what I think.

No one gets me… why would he?

Always in my head… always disconnecting.

What did I expect to see?

And why does it matter to me?

I barely know myself, so… who is he to me?

He can’t possibly…

connect to me: a breathing misunderstanding.

Through the raining, I heard my phone ring. He messaged me.

Are you standing in the rain?”

I smiled. 

Where else would I be?

Beautiful.

And then there was you.

I thought I saw Yellow rays jumping off your back into my view. But you were just… outlined in gold.

Riches dripping from every crease and fold. So elegant and bold.

And I.. well I had been dragged through and tapered in life lessons lined with sandpaper. I thought you’d see later, there was No gloss on me… Never called “pretty”.

You smiled at me

And took a shine to me.

Got too close to me.

My jagged matte edges cut and shredded you… and you let it.

I watched your stripped and dingy hands scrape up your golden flakes scattered in the sand. Grouped and gathered every last piece, stood next to me and threw them straight up into the wind.

I watched pretty pieces spin.

You smiled at me. No trace of you being bitter.

You gave up your skin just to…

Cover me in glitter.

Out of Sight

I’m sorry to bother you, but..

W(help) I just wanted to let you know that I am okay.

I know I can be a bit troubleso(me) some days,

And maybe my attitude came across as a little (i)cy.

I guess when my life was falling downstre(am), it made it hard to speak nicely.

I can(not) tell you how helpful this break has been. I know I was beginning to be a little too much towards the end…

So, in case you were wondering how I’ve been these days,

I am completely (okay).

Recycle.

I could never give you peace, so Ill give you pieces of me.

Take my stomach. I can’t taste what I eat.

I’ll give you my heart. It does nothing for me.

I’ll give you my voice. I have no energy to speak.

Grab my lungs. If there’s no smoke, I don’t breathe.

Take my arms and wrap them around you when you sleep.

Take my mind. I don’t care what you think.

Yes I know, it’s a lot to give for free.

I’ve used these things… all of them so wrongly.. and now their worth runs rather cheap… Yet, you’ve always found the value in me.

So here…. take my feet, my knees are just too weak.

But please promise

you’ll never use them to walk back to me.

Effort.

Someone told me to just let go. If it comes back to you, it was always yours. So I picked myself up from the bathroom floor, and held onto him.

Locked the front door.

Never was a fan of unnecessary steps… Just skip the complex and get to what’s next.

Stuffed my fingers in between the jealousy. Plugged my ears when he’d disagree.

Meticulously,

refused to believe

that if my hand suddenly released,

I’d just have to….wait and see?

Relinquish control of my own destiny?

No…. That didn’t seem productive to me.

Way more inclined to watch my knuckles bleed, then dig my nails in his chest, and force his head against my breast. Said he needed a break, so I’d break every bone he tried to rest with a grip resembling death. Fist compressed. Muffled, squashed, and squeezed him into faithfulness, and I guess…

Trying not to let go of him,

I lost myself.

So I let go of me and… just held my breath…

Recover.

We both wanted to be in love

like before we knew what it really was.

When it was just sharing covers and covering our true colors.

Cheeks turning cherry red from what the other said while tryna figure out how to live and die in bed.

Back when hours went unnoticed. Days and months seemed stolen. We played at a pace not much different from pause… a bit slower than slow motion.

Your heart broken and mine frozen.

Damaged goods, but good together as I Iced parts of you that were torn and swollen.

And maybe

We won’t be

eternally

Just you and me…

but after all our old lovers’ commotion…

I think we both just… needed a moment.

False Hope.

I have been collaborating with disaster.

Never pictured failure as a business partner…

Yet here I am with disappointment dripping from my pen, filling this page with stories of sin and prayers with no end phrases that won’t bend, and turn my page, and turn again. Filling sheets with my regrets and I think…

Wait… I’ve ran out of ink.

Switch to pencil as my thoughts get a bit harder.

… maybe grab a pencil sharpener.

Back to what I think…

I think my mistakes have brought me lakes of endless one-liners and pieces that shake my foundation with the strength of an earthquake… or a hurricane… can’t forget the rain. A well know symbol of pain.

Kinda like that midnight train…

Going anywhere.

Maybe this pain will get my writing there.

I really don’t care… Just somewhere. Away from here.

And well I…

It…

If I…

I… might have lied. this writing is going nowhere…

Just get me a beer.

My thoughts never remain.

Who told me I could write in the rain??

For Granted.

She spent summers sunken into the grooves of his muted being.

Pressed against his chest where the rest of the world grew quiet. Silent. Noiseless. Where everything was still. If she listened hard enough, she might hear the rings sing around Saturn.

No rhythms, no songs, no motion, no harmonies. Wanted to drum her fingertips against his lips to feel a pattern. Yet not even her thoughts moved…

But he knew when she grew away, she’d hear melodies, and find reasons to unnoticed rhyming things in her memories.

Still.

For those of us who don’t just “feel” feelings but become feelings.

Or maybe feel too little “everythings” and too many “nothings”.

Who daydream of that one beautiful thing someone once said… inbetween the horrible things floating in your head.

Who needs the power of every God in every universe to give us the energy to get out of bed.

Are razors the only way out?

Does a bottle of pills and a bottle of vodka show what the nightmares are about.

Will this overdose solve it?

Will that jump from the bridge resolve it?

Can anyone see us on the ledge?

Could you reach out before we tip over the edge?

Don’t save those weekly flowers and visits for the grave.

Use them when we’re out there trying to be brave.

For those of us who were born unclear,

Just know we were not put here to suffer here to break here and leave here…

So.

Before you ask for the check and pay the bill.

Just for now,

Please…

Be still.