Poems|Dreams

Sat on the floor and cried about you today

But it's been a whole year since I last saw your face

And it hurts to know that you forgot the promises we made

Saying that we'll keep in touch and what we have won't fade

I guess it was wrong

Here's another pointless song

But I miss you

And I feel fucking stupid

Never kissed you

But everybody knew but me

That we would end in misery

I'm not even a memory to you

I wish I had the guts to say to you

Don't go

Today I wore the shirt we got to match

Just a yellow dinosaur to make all of  our friends laugh

Usually it sits at the back of my drawer

But I'm sick of feeling lonely

I can't take it anymore

But I miss you

And I feel fucking stupid

Should've kissed you

I had so many chances and I blew it

I wish you said you liked me

I am a lynx watching a nest. I am sharp claws and sandpaper tongue. I wait patiently, eagerly.

You are the softest down feathers and whispered cries. Light, airy, spry. You taunt from your perch.

You paid for her love

Because you could not buy my affections.

Three years is a long time. To put it in perspective - three years is 1,095 days.

That's how long we have been friends, give or take. And it has been nearly ten months since I have heard your voice.

I miss you every day.

I hope that wherever you are, you are happy and at peace. That is all I ever wanted for you.

I told you so often that I loved you, but perhaps you didn't believe it. At least, you didn't believe it enough to feel worthy.

You demolished my walls so carelessly that they came crumbling down and the real me was left buried underneath the wreckage. You don’t know me.

All you know is obsession. You were carried out to sea with it, swept up in my supposed perfection.

Depression comes knocking at the back of my skull, begging to be let in. I peer through the blinds and yell out, “I’m not interested!”

Sometimes,

Depression bangs on the door so hard, I can feel it rattling my bones. My brain vibrates with it and brings pain that reaches long fingers down my spine. I hide and hope it cannot see me, and that my locks are strong enough to keep it out.

Sometimes,

Little bits of me are scooped out like melon, used up or left to rot, until I am nothing more than useless rinds. I cannot give any more of myself when there is nothing left.

Sometimes,

Anxiety finds a way in. It’s smaller than Depression, but perhaps just as dangerous. It flattens itself out and squeezes through the smallest space.

It can feed on my thoughts, and all the little pieces of me are used up even quicker. Anxiety will even eat the core of me, growing and growing as I shrink.

Sometimes,

Even the demons I haven’t named will come running to me. If you feed one, the numbers grow.

Sometimes, they can be tamed.

Sometimes,

It’s 2am and you roll over to me, chin scratching my neck, breath in my ear. “I love you”

And fall asleep again.

You take me to the top of a mountain. Breathtaking. The climb takes us three hours, approximately 13,000 steps.

You make sure you get my good side.

I’m holding you back from what you think you need. Michigan. A tiny town with no room to breathe.

Run away, if you must. I’ll survive.

The past two years feel like a lie, and yet, I cannot believe it that you don’t love me. You do.

I have proof. See?

They say a photographer captures what he’s afraid to lose.

He says I don’t wanna be with her

Two years circle the drain

And fall

But why does my heart beat for you

Alone, only you

Clenching sheets between fists

Clenching jaws

Furrowed lines and aging signs

A glass of red. A beer. Two.

Three glasses of wine.

Slowly losing focus, fear melts away. Insecurities float like the smallest pieces of ice, shrinking shrinking.

Room temperature, dry. Dry humor, a good laugh.

I am.. nobody. I am whoever I want to be. I cannot remember.

I am the truest form of whoever I am tonight. Pour me another.

Glass after glass

Of red

I lost count. Red blood smeared on the backs of my palms.

The light reflects through the glass and leaves a glow upon my flushed skin.

I am alone. My lover sits feet away, yet I am invisible.

It’s like we’re speaking two different languages. Can you hear me?

I’m shocked I still have your number saved. God I miss you. I miss feeling important to somebody. I miss your laugh, contagious, inviting.

Cabernet Sauvignon

Barefoot. $9.99

A store four times smaller than the one I’m used to, but you usher me inside. We are met with the smell of Pine Sol and warm dust. Perhaps a freshly-used vacuum?

Your fingers linger on the small of my back, caressing my spine as I peruse the aisles of wine. I’m not sure what I want. To drink. To do with my life.

13.6 percent, that’s strong enough. And the rum I drank before I met you is still lingering in my bloodstream.

You run a finger along the bottles and leave fingerprints. It is clear which brands are the good ones - some bottles have remained untouched for years, gathering cobwebs.

It’s not what I crave, but I grab the bottle and carry it to the front. More than I need, but I’m known for taking on more than I can handle.

One pound of fat they say is 3,500 calories.. roughly.

So I drink my iced coffee and I take my multivitamins

And I skip breakfast

And I skip lunch

And all day I feel my stomach churning, clawing at itself, begging

And I am weak, and I give in.

But I’m still hungry. I’ve ruined the day already, no sense in holding back. So I eat and eat until I am bursting at the seams.

And I gain a pound of fat in one day.

My hands are always cold

Like ice

I joke that they are “cold as my heart”

But really I have poor circulation

Or I don’t eat enough, or something.

Picture it - a beating heart, encapsulated in crystals, trapped

A shot of birthday cake, hold the ice

Bubbly, mixed emotions

I catch myself mid breath sometimes, inhaling with fingers splayed across my rib cage, tracing.

I remove every ounce of clothing from my body, discard jewelry, better take those earrings out - they weigh too much you know.

I was never fond of math but numbers are all I think about. What does 1,000 mean to you?

3,500?

I could go for days without a single bite, or I could eat my entire weight in Oreo frosting and drown myself in Diet Coke.

And vodka has calories too but it’s okay because if I drink enough, I’ll get sick, and that kills two birds with one stone. Numbness. Purging.

I feel myself being dragged down, pulled by the gravity of my thunderous thighs, my wiggly belly. Legs with craters and lumps and bumps.

If I could just get back to my lowest weight, I’d be happy. I would take a metal grater and shave away my skin if I could, peel away all the layers until I am nothing but bone.

I feel like an anchor is wrapped tightly around my heart, and it is tugging on me..

My heart will either implode if I try to resist, or I will be entirely plunged into cold black water and surely drown.