(this way you will never lose sight of me–even if your words filled me with so much pain)
Fill me up. Even when my skin starts to break and my eyes start to bulge and I become unrecognizable
Fill me up. I will not cry and I will not scream and I will not beg I will only accept whats coming as you
Fill me up. And I lose sight and smell and touch as I become as big as this room and I say:
“Fill me up.”
Flashback: piss poor speakers blaring Lil Wayne in our small town. I, embarrassed, ask you to turn it down. You, headstrong, ignore me.
We are unhappy. We are not meant to be in this car, listening to this song, in this town. We are not meant to be together at all.
And yet that moment, a moment that I have lived so many times, on so many days, is something I remember best about you (or us). Our differences so fucking clear–but we were too comfortable (or too afraid of change).
So I listened to that fucking Lil Wayne song so many times that my tongue recognized the lyrics, my feet the tempo–until I understood that I never should have been listening in the first place.
(an ongoing piece detailing my weak spine)
- I would lose my sight to the sun before I blink and miss it again.
- Thinking is something I’ve always done, but can you believe that the earth rotates without a thought? As I think until I become nothing, the earth keeps turning.
- I haven’t considered you in so long that you became another universe: untouchable and foreign, like a stranger on the street. Yet I remember how you spoke when your grandpa died, and the way you would talk about home. Not quite a poet, but your words came together the same way.
- I am still lonely, but I made it to twenty-three.
- Your words feel cut and dry, like any poem found in the beginning of a paper thin novella. You think: “Speak and they will listen,” but its all been said before. A curse of the human condition.
- At sunset: “Look at the sky!”
But you’re always too late, my voice miles away, the day turned to night.
- Touch is a love language you don’t know how to speak and all I can do is beg for you to talk, talk, talk.
- I’ve never felt more like a second thought than when you remind me of your first.
- Nothing makes me feel less beautiful than when you close your eyes, touch me, and sigh.
- And with your soul to match my sadness I think I will be okay. Your light will help outshine my dark.
(to be continued…)
And my heart withers,
like flowers without water
when will my body stop
I am breathing!
I am trying!
I am biting my skin!
Sweat pours from my pores;
I am all alone
and my heart withers.
Will you think of me when
this world turns to dust?
or will it all be too much?
I will scream
what can i say?
when you’re on the floor
your body no longer yours,
do you pray? or
do you linger on the edge,
wondering how far it will push you
until you fall?
Have you ever wanted to push a pen against your skin
without the consequences of a mark?
To feel it glide across the inside of your wrists, your hands…
Doing everything it isn’t supposed to.
But our skin is so vulnerable to stains,
it would only succumb to the black ink;
and everyone would see the mess
you have made.
I cannot see past
Like another battle
I don’t have the energy
Leave and see what the rest of the world has to offer you.
Move to a city that feels like another country, even if it’s in the same state.
Face the people who point out your differences with their eyes.
Discover living in a world where timing is everything, especially during rush hours.
Make an amount of money that seemed out of reach before.
Realize that said money isn’t even enough to pay an electricity bill.
Feel lonely in a room full of people because no one smiles at strangers.
Figure out that diversity doesn’t mean acceptance.
Experience suburban claustrophobia.
Dream about the beauty you grew up ignoring.
Go home and remember you were lucky.
(Here’s a poem that reflects my consistent internal dialogue!)
I can’t tell you what I feel like because
Even I don’t know what I feel like;
It’s more of a mess of colors like,
Blues and reds
With hints of green,
But only because your eyes are green,
And this is coming off kind of strong but
Did you know you say all the right things sometimes?
But all the wrong things the other times,
And although you don’t always listen,
When you do listen,
And that means more than you know,
Or I know
Or they know—
Look I don’t know how to end this
Or stupid run on sentence,
Just like I don’t know how to tell you
“I love you” or
that I’m lost when you’re absent.