Good Intentions.

I drive to the ends of the earth, and what do I see? I see myself well again, waving on the other side. I decide to jump this abyss, to the promised land right in front of me. My heart beats, my palms sweat. You know, all the cliché things. I jump. And then I am flying. The wings break forth from my soul. It feels effortless to be this way. The wind stings my eyes. And then I realize the place I wanted to be is a blurry vision below. It’s sinking…deep, deep, deep, and down. Finally, there is black beneath me. I cannot look down anymore, because as I do, I start to fall from the sky. So I look up and soar high above. And somehow, this is much greater than the “better” me on the other side of the abyss. All I needed to do from the beginning was to jump past the fear and fly.

The darkness vs. The light.

The pills make the words flow easily. Whether or not the words are wise, I can’t really say. All I know is, I regret every text I sent. But there is no going back.

Maybe saying what is truly in my mind…maybe opening up and being transparent to people…maybe that will be my New Years resolution.

And just maybe, my demons will go away.

Ironically, that is my goal…instead of these pills that dull the muzzle on my mouth.

Eyelids.

I sit here in the dark.
The shadow is no longer my friend.
All I hear is the sound of inhalation.
And exhalation.
This means my body is alive.
But my mind whirs.
It wonders where I am.
It thinks of where I am to go.
The eyebrows knit together.
The corners of lips turn slowly downward.
Sometimes I wonder.
And other times, I know.
I know I am merely laying here.
I am watching myself barely live.

Inhale.

Exhale.

Repeat.

It fixes everything else, though.

Coffee doesn’t fix apathy.

A Beautiful Letdown.

Hot tears streaming down my face. My voice cracks. My heart aches. I sniffle. Something about crying makes me embarrassed. Everyone in the movies has a beautiful cry. But me, I don’t have a beautiful cry. I’m probably the ugliest cryer in the entire history of mankind. It’s not one single tear running down my cheek, but many. It’s like a waterfall. I don’t understand why my body threatens combustion. But when I cry, it’s a serious flood of tears.

Mr. Darcy

I sometimes wonder what it would be like to live in a different world. I wish life were simpler, in many ways. Yet, I know somehow I would not be fulfilled then too. But I read all the great love stories, and I grasp onto poetry that ignites my soul. I can’t help but to think there is something more. And that maybe reading brings me into my own world entirely. I wish you would meet me there, bow low for me, kiss my hand, and look into my eyes with a smolder. Somehow, these simple acts would be more than I have experienced in a lifetime.

Once.

I was intoxicated by the perfume of his breath. It seemed to escape from his plump, moist lips. His distinct smell was so pungent my mouth started to water. I absently twirled my hair around my index finger. I moistened my own lips with my tongue in expectation of his on mine. I giggled nervously as he smiled my favorite crooked smile. One dimple escaped on his right cheek. Something about this smile subtly lifted my spirits. The word on my lips was “forever”.

Tongue.

My dark eyes search yours. There I see myself well again. My hair brushes against my brow, and I flick it away. You look anywhere but in my direction. Why are you so driven to prove this gaping hole between us? We both know there is a bridge. We can easily cross it. Why don’t you acknowledge us? When did we become like this?

Maybe the moment your kiss felt different.

Come Save Me.

I trip over my words.

And the light it too bright.

I wish your face was in my vision.

And you would interlace our fingers.

But.

It seems everyone has told me a lie.

A deceptive lie from birth, that is.

Life is happy, they say.

But no,

Not at all.

Yet.

I know who I want to take me home.

And it’s you.

We’re in a better place.

I can breathe without wanting to stab you.

You make me smile sometimes.

And you’re there to hold my hand.

You gave me roses.

But they wilted.

Somehow, you can grow flowers from where dirt is.

And that gives me hope.

To grow and grow until I can’t see you from way up here.

That’s the only way to not suffocate on all the lies you feed me.

But somehow we’re alright, and we’re really ok.

And right now, I somehow don’t want to wring your neck.