May 11
poem challenge: Happiness is ...

happiness in a way

happiness is the ache in
my muscles at 5:32 in the afternoon,
the gentle reminder that i am real
and i haven't faded

the gold specks in someone's eyes
that come out in the sun, the warmth
of a hot shower that i can finally cry in,
the release of emotions.

the soft strumming of guitar strings,
the sound of singing, and anything that makes
me smile at this point really.

hot tea, and food, with its twisted
form of satisfaction for my greedy body,
the food that keeps us from fading.

happiness isn't happy, really, but at least
it's not sad.

happiness is relief, happiness is not
feeling like your falling from the sky every
time that you get out of bed, not wanting
the world to fall apart around you.

happiness is someone's thumb
brushing tears off your face, happiness
is the bandaid on a nasty cut, the
Jan 31

fever dreams

we scream in our sleep 
until our lungs are thin
and decaying, the only 
things keeping you from hearing
me are the paper thin walls i have built
around me.

every night, i close my eyes,
hold you hand and let the purple
light wash over our rotting bodies, 
awakening us from a restless

we float around and
laugh  until we cry, tears like
silver on our tanning faces, summer
lingering in our eyes.

my feet touch the ground
but i jump, and so you follow,
our bodies tangled on the floor-
a mess of broken glass.

when the light hits us
just right, we are 

so in our glory, we dance on
the moon, rays of sunlight burning 
us to the bone until our skeletons
drift through the milky nothingness.

when i open my eyes, my bed
is cold and the world is dark again.
Jan 08

only the ghosts know us

it's not so lonely anymore, facedown
on the hardwood floor, listening to the
ghosts whisper their secrets in my ear
until i fall asleep.

i've been talking to you in
my dreams, and it's made me lose
my faith in the lord above, because
your bed is empty and she is lonely.

jesus christ, i don't want it,
(irony catches me at my worst hours)
i don't want this need to remember you
just to feel something again.

the feel of callused hands against my
cheek, your voice speaking a language
i wish i could have learned, it all comes back,
and i don't want it, but serendipity has
never been kind to me.

i don't believe in god, but i believe in ghosts, 
i believe in the smell of cigarettes, and
i believe in you.

i hate remembering, but the guilt
of forgetting has stained the soft white
fabric of my dignity.
Jan 08

fading as we kill

when i reach for you, the world
just starts spinning again, like i have
been pushed out of focus, like i always am.

am i looking at you, or am i
just dreaming again? my body is numb
as the lights flood my vision, your
hands leaving bruises on my conscience. 

suddenly, this was a crime scene, and i 
am running with your blood on my hands.
one of us must always fall, after all. 

you have never met me, you have never
seen me, but you are here apologizing
anyways, or so say my eyes.
(i don’t trust them much, but don’t tell them)

i can’t hear you, darling, 
the ringing is too loud. has there always
been such a loud ringing in my ears,
or is it your voice?

this is a crime scene,
i remember running, blood on
my hands, blood on my skirt.

i don’t care, right now all i care
is about saving you. who did this,
my love. 
Dec 06

feed me to the longing minds once more

they will ask why i lock
the door at night and i will
tell them it's because i am a creature
of habit, soft and unready for the monsters
that claw at my bedframe in
the early hours of the morning.

i don't let the monsters in, because
i know that i am the same as them,
cocooning myself in the idea of being lonely
until the thought of interaction hides itself
in the fallen leaves outside my window.

i am crazed by the lovers,
yearning for human touch, but
keeping myself away from it because
once i feel it, i will push it away once more,
my mind full and my skin burning.

i am driven insane by the few 
things i hold dear to me, avoiding the
reality of my obsessions, the ones who
shut out any idea of reaching for the
outside world again.

building these walls was not easy,
and tearing them down will be nothing
Nov 29

the importance of existing

a hand holds my thigh, and for
the first time in months, i feel as
if i can feel myself returning to existence.

it’s such a big word, existing,
it’s such a hard thing to do, but
8 billion unhappy creatures crawl
out of their minds and take it on
every day, so who am i to let myself go?

my fingers dabble in blue paints
as i sit by the window, watching strangers
laugh with eachother, and i wonder if
that is what i will look like in a few years,
and if belonging comes with age.

my heart feels something other than
love and sadness, and yes, maybe i am
scared, scared to change the person
i have turned into, but aren’t we all?

i am scared that i have spent 3 months
thanking the people that have hurt me
more than the people i have screamed at,
but what’s scarier is that i just want to forget.

they told me to have fun, and if i’m 
Nov 20


i love you more than i planned,
i think to myself late at night as i
stare into nothingness for hours on end.

i let you hold me for longer than
you were supposed to, and sometimes,
it hurts so bad that i lock myself in a cage
and swallow the key.

you felt like rain and sore throats,
walking out of the grey to the pavement
in silence because i was mad,
we were always mad.

you felt like smiles and shaking legs
because “i’m here for you” never meant
much anyway, did it?

you felt like soft hands and hungry stomachs,
you’re eyes knowing the words i was
planning to speak at 12:06pm every day,
my nimble fingers interlocking with yours.

you felt like screaming, i was
always screaming because you always
messed it up and i never knew how 
to let things go, and yet we claimed we
were made for eachother.

you wanted to run away from
Nov 14


my hands reach up to grab
someone's hand, and in my mind,
they pull me up, but i can still feel
myself sinking.

lungs aching, my eyes burn
as i stare up at the surface of the water,
dancing figures blurring together
as my vision blots out.

i have not breathed in months.
i have not breathed in years.

i can hear sounds echoing
across the ocean, seasick voices
begging to go back home as
the current carries me further down.

fingers digging into soft sand,
i pull myself across the ocean floor,
my heartbeat losing itself as the
ringing in my ears overtakes my fragile mind.

let me live, i will whisper to the
softspoken fish who find my floating body.
let me live, i will shout to the sharks
as i run my hands across their smooth skin.

no, answer the oceans.
no, answer the seas.
Nov 02

the drowning song

i am still bleeding, can't
you see me?
and as my mind spills out
of my stomach, you watch and
tell me how pretty i look
when i am crying.

i fell for it. 
i told myself my pain
was beautiful if it was
for you. i hurt my mind and soul
for you, so how will you repay me?

my violence is a debt, and you owe 
me countless silver knives, each one
severing your calluses skin and drawing 
your golden blood, a wine for sinners like
you and me.

i am not the one at fault,
my dearest, please watch
your tone.

you made me sick with the bitter
taste on your tongue, but i am
young and heartbroken, and i
will kiss you again.

it never ends, this cycle of
hurting, our twisted minds competeing
for the prize of eachothers tears.

and when our words spill from
our stomachs, we'll think of
how pretty it was
to cry.
Oct 28

the return

sadness can only linger
so long until it starts to eat
you from the inside out,
your heartbeat in it's hands.

dew dripping from eyelashes
stuck together like lovers
saying their last goodbye,
the morning is happy.

soft hands, chapped lips
begging for water down a
dry throat, she is his sun.

a life intertwined with a story,
a voice full of regret, 
sadness can only last so long.
or at least, that's what they say.

my sadness grows slowly,
and she says she can see it in my eyes.
my thinning face, paling skin,
it's all part of the future i have built in my mind.

my brains seep out, along with my
my skin peels off with my joy.

and out of the ashes 
another life
to dust.