Thoughts before I drift off to sleep

I lay here
wishing this sheet
wrapped around me were
your arms
and this deafening
silence was filled
with the gentle caress
of your breath
yet all I am left
with is this paralyzing
wave of emptiness
and the
willingness
to find
comfort in this
relentless instability

A Weight of its Own

I used to feel an aching sorrow
in my chest
as if every mistake I had ever
made had been piled on top
of me

and although I have since been
relieved of that weight
I do no feel light
I do not feel free
Like a soaring bird heading
to find warmth

all I feel is anticipation
for a journey to a
destination I am still
uncertain of
and that is a weight
of its own

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Red

I am red,
like an ambitious flame,
angry and rising
and my voice echoes
loudly,
demanding to be
heard over the
endless whispers and
incessant cries
that fill the void in my mind.
I am fire,
like the crackling of burning wood and
long forgotten letters.
I am heartbreak,
I am passion,
I am rage,
and I tear the world apart
with my pen.

Depersonalized

I am but a window
and my eyes only see
what they want me to see
and while your words effect this body,
this heart has very carefully shut itself away.
I watch myself live my life as a passive viewer,
an uninterested audience member
and only occasionally do I stop to question if this is reality
when I feel as if I am only a pawn in a video game,
alive but not quite living

This is not about you

This is not about you.
This is not about about all those times you made me feel worthless and pathetic or how you spat my own name in my face like a curse.
This is not about how your betrayal ripped a giant gaping hole in my heart that I have not yet even begun to patch up. I can only keep ripping off the bandaid to remind myself of what it feels like to hurt.
And this is not about how your name will forever feel like acid on my tongue, burning the back of my throat as I try to smother the urge to scream it out into the night.

This is not about you.
This is about me.
This is about all the hurt and torment I have endured as I passively watched you set me on fire. This is about my struggle to love myself to fill the hole that you made, as you left me to fend for myself like a lonely and wounded animal.
This about how I will rise high above the flames and spread my hatred like wildfire, so that maybe one day, it might reach you.
This is about how I hope neither heaven nor hell will take you, for you would surely be a disappointment to both.

So, no. This is not about you.
This is about me,
like it always has been.

Bleed

All I’ve ever known

Was how to bleed in ink

To tear my paper with my pen

And never stop to think

 

To rip apart my insides

And spill them on my page

Watching them form silent words

Of wisdom, hope, and rage

Worth It

Sometimes caring can be dangerous

A treacherous minefield full of broken hearts

That never seems to have an escape route

 

A gut-wrenching calamity of an inner struggle

That consumes your entire being

Until you are engulfed in agony

 

But perhaps it is better to hurt than to feel nothing at all

Perhaps  it is only beneficial to take great risks and gamble with your heart

In order to find the one thing that everyone spends their whole lives searching for:

Love.

Why I Write

I write not for pleasure

But to bare my soul

Because it is too often

That I cannot stand

To keep it inside anymore

When You Meet Someone

It is only when you meet someone that you realize how lonely you are,

how empty you feel inside,

when you’re alone with yourself,

when you’re alone with your thoughts,

and your memories,

and your pain.

The Unthinkable

I never thought that I would smile,

that I would hear you breathe rhythmically,

in sync with my own heartbeat,

that my hand would reach out for yours

even if you were not near.

I never thought that I could love,

that I could open up my heart and bleed

without feeling ashamed,

that my world would be forever altered by your touch.