The value of my existence has been
stripped down to a figure.
Input. Output.
I waste away into numbers until all I am is
the addition and subtraction
of nutrients. Of calories and carbs and fats and proteins.
I have pushed myself
out and left
an empty shell
Tag: poetry
For those who jumped, and for those who didn’t jump but wish they had
When you jumped, I cried because
I wished I’d been holding your hand as you fell.
When you were gone, I screamed at the sky to
take me, too.
When I was alone, I was wedged
in a corner of darkness, and I had locked myself in.
I’d wished you’d carried me with you, because
I was just as trapped, just as lost; the books weighed me down, too, you know.
I was filled with just as much hate and hopelessness and
cynicism, just as thirsty for nothingness.Now, when I laugh with my whole
heart, I wish you were here laughing, too.
When I sit in the sun and feel the Earth kiss my nose,
I wish you were beside me because
I am learning sometimes
it takes a while sitting in the sun to feel its warmth,
and sometimes when we finally
stumble out
of the darkness, it takes a while for our eyes to
adjust to the light.
But when we can finally get a glimpse of it, it is spectacular.
I wish you were here to see it.
Pink Thread
You wrapped your finger around the loose end
and pulled and pulled and pulled until
it broke;
an absentminded afterthought
hurriedly shoved into the armrest of my car
on your way out.
The hemmed end of your shirt left frayed and
blowing in the wind as
you walked away;
a sad reminder of how it used to be before
it’s innards were pulled out.Weeks fall away and it still sits there—
the small ball of pink thread;
the mark of your territory on my heart.
The last piece of you. The only thing
holding us together.
Living
is there a right way to do it?
These days,
I have lost myself:
not in the highs, the news telecasts,
or her eyes.
In a moment.
I am
somewhere in the universe.
I am
every episode of Friends, yesterday’s breakfast burrito,
every 3 a.m. conversation.
I am.
I have shattered myself
into a million tiny pieces,
and it is scary but
liberating.
∞
the ebb and flow
of tides.
the sun sets
and rises.
the look of love in
your eyes.
everything changes,
everything dies.
Your Dream Girl Doesn’t Exist
i am not the answer
to your mind’s unrelenting questions.
and no matter how broken you
think you are, you are not
a puzzle to be put together– i
cannot fix you.do not put me on a pedestal
where i don’t belong.
do not put me on your shoulders
where i might fall.do not tell me you need me–
tell me you don’t,
but that you want me
anyway.
one drink
and your name is looping
in my mindtwo drinks
and i just want you
next to me, i just want
to feel you, i just want you
to make me warm
i hear your name
in the clinks of glassesthree drinks
this space between us
is pulling me like taffy
i am aching for
my skin to touch yours
i am aching for
you and i know i shouldn’t
havefour drinks
the glass is to my lips
and this heat is
sliding down my throat
this heat is
undeniable and
insatiable and i wish
i was sober.
I want to get drunk and talk about you at parties
I want to know that I can do that because
I don’t really know if you’re mine.What are we?
Can I tell my mom about you?
Can I daydream about you?Do you still think about me a lot?
Do you still daydream of kissing me?
Is the shape of my lips imprinted
in your eyes, the way light stains your irises
after staring at the sun,
like your lips are in mine?
We laughed
because we both
hate summerand you kissed me
while we melted
under the heat of the sun
and into each other
and even though it’s warmer
in bed when you lie next to me
I think this is the kind of heat
I could stand;my skin says so when it sticks
to yours– it wants you
near.I would sweat in this
desert forever
if it meant we could hate
summer together.
for the first time, being without you isn’t what terrifies me. it is the fact that i am without you, and i’m okay.