The Universe Inside Her: A Series Of Poems Letters cd26

The Universe Inside Her

A Series of Poems Letters

Alix Mizen

Copyright © 2021 Alix Mizen All rights reserved First Edition Fulton Books, Inc. Meadville, PA Published by Fulton Books 2021 ISBN 978-1-64952-787-5 (paperback) ISBN 978-1-64952-788-2 (digital) Printed in the United States of America

Table of Contents

Sponges Souls Dance Love Body and Soul Love Quenched Love Poems The Air I Breathe Someone Who Loves You Unforgettable Without You Intention to Love Stars of Love Bodies You ♥ Walls and Wars Mosaic Hush Time Fighting Love

Loose Ends Wandering Hearts Stars Everything In Awe of You Bedhead Vulnerability Beyond Your Broken My Home What it Is The Parts They Never Loved Together Until You Believe It In Every Way Perfection Home in Us No One Couldn’t Sur An Ode to Our Journey Adore You—An Ode to Our Journey The Day

Irreplaceable Even Your Darkness Blue Morning Glow Eternally but you deserve to believe you’re lovable.January 18around 2 a.m.(from our conversation that night.)Starchild(You are special, do not give up) When? You Are Fearless It Takes Courage Loved Deeply Otherworld Souls and know that you own that shit like no one else could.Home in the Stars(For all our sisters whom we’ve lost to suicide) Patience and gentleness are necessary.July 11Air Which Holds Your Essence(Thank you for being here) Tear-stained Warriors A Joke Dancing with Toxicity Your Pawn One-Sided Love Both A Little Unfair

Her Forever To Fall in Love Never Know My Pain Other-world Legends Too Good to Be True Reason It’s You Paralyzed Enough Most Deserving ‘I Don’t Believe in Love’ A Very Present Absence The One Your Heart Wants We Were Real I’d Rather Cry with You ‘Ante Merīdiem’ Cake at Midnight It’s About You Empty Silhouette Forever Ended too Soon Pages

With Her Name Up with the Thought of You Healing is Scary Too Afraid of Love Goodbyes Temporary Highs and Pretty Lies Talents Garden of I Love You’s Average Love Don’t Be Afraid Stolen Happiness Syllables Etsy Wedding Intentional Love Someone Else I Wish… First Thing On the Run Regret Forgetting Luxuries Forbidden Love

Lonesome Thoughts Hard to Say Goodbye (Once Yours) Almost Ours I Dream of You Lost Dreams Cigarettes Ex-High Love is Insanity Familiar Tell Me Letting Go (I’m Drawn to You) The One Whom My Heart Loves When You Were Mine Impossibility of You War Between Intrigue and Purity (Innocent Love) Your Name Nightmares Not Me One Day Dove’s Nest Cup of My Love

Convincing Me My Love Is Yours Known Favorite Dream Plenty of Both Quietest Solace Mortal Clock Good Heart Innocence Thirsty It’s Perspective Alone Wake and Whisper My Application to Time Sometimes Marathon to Nowhere Garden of Glass

Acknowledgements

Thank you to my family, for the constant of my dream of writing; Thank you to those in my life who inspired most of these poems and letters; And thank you to all of you who and appreciate my work.

Love

Sponges

The human heart is like a sponge, it needs love to soak up or it will dry and shrink and crack. A broken heart is one that’s given much love, but gotten none back.

Souls Dance

Souls dance like the stars upon the waves, they carry whispers like the current of the sea, they dance like a Spanish salsa, intertwining so intimately. Such ion shared and love shown, like the moon upon the waters or a star shooting across the sky, so, souls dance and speak of their love.

Love

The earth shakes with the thunder of love, it quakes with the claps of connection, it beats with the heart of lovers. Beneath the waves of love, it drowns, it disappears in the universe of two united. It rises with the power of intimacy and shines with the brilliance of tender togetherness. Love makes the world go ’round. And love overcomes all.

Body and Soul

A body needs air to breathe, a soul needs another to drown in. That is the difference between body and soul; a soul must become lost in another to live, while a body must stay above the waves.

Love Quenched

Such a need satisfied as love quenched, is only a drop of water to burning flames, or propane to a roaring fire. February 24 1:23 p.m.

Love Poems

It’s funny how she thinks, “I can’t see anyone ever loving me like that; the way they say they do in poems, you know?” I look at her and she has no idea; I love her the way they say they love someone in all those love poems.

The Air I Breathe

You are my breath, my life, my satisfaction. There is nothing like you in all this world. I want you to be the air my lungs breathe every waking day.

Someone Who Loves You

You deserve better than all those guys you’ve been with; you deserve someone who touches you out of love, who kisses you with purity, respect, and grace. You deserve someone who speaks words of goodness and faithfulness and honesty, someone who compliments your soul and not just your body, someone who knows and understands you and truly seeks to, every day.

You deserve someone who wants only what is best for you, who treats you with patience

and care; Someone who really, truly, deeply, purely, and faithfully loves you. October 26 10:26 p.m.

Unforgettable

The memories I have with you don’t ever fade away. You seem to be the one thing in my life that I cannot forget. You are the only thing I really . I’ve never forgotten the moments I spend with you, because they are unforgettable to me.

Without You

Life without you is no life at all. I can’t breathe without air nor smile without reason, neither can I breathe nor smile without you. You are everything to me. You are my favorite part of being alive.

Intention to Love

The hands are one’s tool of intention. They are powerful. How beautiful it is to use that power for gentle love and affection.

The will is stored in the heart, seen in the eyes, but carried out by the hands.

Stars of Love

I wanted to love her so well that the only thing dancing in her mind would be the stars of love. December 21 2:34 a.m.

Bodies

Our bodies are the pens which our souls use to express their deep love (the best that a body can love). Though, really, a body is just a physical cage keeping our souls apart. Forget not to love the soul. January 15 3:56 a.m.

You ♥

You may not know you deserve the world, but you are my world and I will do everything in my ability to give you the best of this world and the next. I love you. January 26 9:27 p.m.

Walls and Wars

You put up a front and have thick, high walls, but your heart tells me you’re sad and scared. You keep an appearance of strength and courage; you show boldness and bravery. I am proud of you for your strength and how far you’ve come, but, my love, you need not leave your scars on the battlefield; bring them home and let me kiss them. Let me love you for even your scars. I love you.

(Let me love the deep wells of your humanity.) January 27 9:11 p.m.

Mosaic

Brokenness is a mosaic, sparkling like the stars and cutting deep as a knife. But honey, I would get cut for you. Your broken edges don’t push me away. I will always walk through your broken shards to sit with you in love. Sometimes, bleeding love is what we both need.

Your mosaic draws me near, I need you. Our imperfect pieces and loose ends just seem to fit together. Baby, let me love you. February 03 1:37 p.m.

Hush Time

Time slows for you, darling. It yields to your wonder and beauty. It hushes at the sound of your voice. It pauses when we are together. It freezes, stands still. You stop time with your precious worth. I soak in every moment and cherish it in my heart.

You hold the clock in your hand. My time is your time. You are wonderful; incredible and great. Let time fall even slower, my dear, for even now, my time with you is not enough. No, not even forever

would be enough with you. February 14 12:07 p.m.

Fighting Love

I will work for this love. This love, which is deeper than obsession or infatuation. My love is not contingent on your beauty, my darling, though beauty you have, and that, abundantly. No, my love is not conditional on circumstance nor feeling; I will love you forever. For this love is a working love, a fighting love, an imperfect, messy love in a real world. It is not based on a perfect, aesthetic picture.

No, my love for you goes deep, well down to the soul. ♥ February 14 12:15 p.m.

Loose Ends

You naturally give what I naturally need, and so do I for you. That is something I have never found before. We fit each other; a perfect fit. All of our rough edges and snags— all of our loose ends— tie us together.

(You are amazing in so many ways.) February 17 4:49 p.m.

Wandering Hearts

Wandering hearts meet over the deep blue sea. Amidst the starry sky, their eyes meet. And, there, they fall in love.

Stars

I fell in love with your scars, though really, in my world, they were my stars. Your pieces were the guiding lanterns in my universe. And when you ask me, “Am I loved by you?” I will always say, without skipping a beat, “Yes, you are. In fact, you are my whole world.” May 20 10:23 a.m.

Everything

Even for all the ways you aren’t innocent, or think you aren’t good, I love you for all of those things, too.

I love you for everything. PS: You are more than good enough. You are perfect exactly the way you are.

In Awe of You

I wake up, It’s almost 6 a.m. Your perfect hand rests lazily by your perfect cheek. I can’t help but be in awe of you (every time of day, but, right now, especially in this very moment). It’s you and that’s what makes it so, so beautiful.

Bedhead

That perfect peacefulness when you sleep, with your tuffled bedhead, is more beautiful than I could explain. I love holding you close, feeling the beat of your heart against mine and the tiny puffs of your breath against my neck. … I love you.

Vulnerability

I want to know your mind and the battles you fight within. Tell me all the deep dark things you keep inside— the things you’ve kept so carefully tucked away, to be left undiscovered by the unseeking soul.

I want to love even your secrets. I will never judge you nor betray your trust.

Beyond Your Broken

I love you beyond your broken. Beyond your rough edges, tough skin, ashes, and lost pieces.

I could lose myself in your ocean. I know it may be a mess, but it is a perfect, beautiful, worthy mess. In your universe is where I’ve built my home. Let me drown in you. You are my world.

Your broken scares you and I know you think it scares me, too. But there is something I want you to know: it does not. I you questioning me all that time ago,

“Why are you not scared?” And now let me answer it, now that I’ve given it much thought: Your broken does not scare me, your humanity doesn’t scare me, your imperfection doesn’t waver my love for you, because love overcomes.

When I see the cracks which lie in your heart, and the lines which have raced over your skin, my love for you grows ten-fold.

I know you don’t understand such love, I know you’ve never been met with such acceptance, but I need you to know that these things I say are true. I will never stop loving you. And your humanity will never succeed in convincing me otherwise, though I know it will test me and try.

Didn’t you know, my love, I am human, too. And I just know that our souls are capable of loving beyond brokenness. That is the love I want with you.

My Home

Tell me what they don’t know about you and let me discover the depths of your soul. After all, that is my home. You are my home.

What it Is

You said, “I don’t know what it is about you.” But I knew exactly what it was about you that I loved: everything. I fell in love with the things that you didn’t love about yourself and some things I never expected to love in anyone. I’ve adored things about you that I never imagined I would. It’s funny how a “type” changes when you meet someone you truly love.

The Parts They Never Loved

You’d get shy about things sometimes, afraid that I’d disregard or belittle you, like so many other people do.

I will never push those parts of you away, in fact, I embrace them. They are the reason I stayed awake at 2 a.m. for all those months; just to see you smile and hear your laugh and listen to your high school stories.

I love every part of you, every story. Each chapter, I flip through gently, lingering on each page,

smoothing the corners, noting every nuance. I’ll always love every piece of you.

Together

I love even your wild, even your mess. Let me become entangled in all your broken pieces in this messy life. I don’t want perfect, I want you. I want to be lost in your world. Although you told me you didn’t want me caught in the struggle, I’ll be right alongside you and we’ll find our way out together. Your process doesn’t frustrate me. I’ll be patient with you and we can heal together.

Until You Believe It

You are beautiful and I will love you gently, wholly, until you believe it; until you see your worth and your undeniable value; until you believe it when I say, “I love you.” You deserve to hear it, and know you are good enough to accept it. You are more than enough. You deserve to believe the truth that you are precious, wanted, and loved.

In Every Way

You are beautiful in every way. Your heart, your soul, your mind, your face, your body. I know you don’t think your mind is beautiful, but even all the dark places within— Your fears, your secrets, your worries, your story, your brokenness— even the things you are ashamed of or scared of, those are all parts of the whole puzzle of you, and that’s what makes them beautiful to me.

Your genuine humanity, your humbled yet bold heart; I don’t love you because of a false notion in my head of what you are, I love you for everything that is real and true about you. You are beautiful for every single brush stroke in your painting of life

and every single piece composing your mosaic. Everything about you, including what I have yet to discover, awes me and is already covered in love, my dear. Trust me when I tell you, You are beautiful. (And, if I may say it again) Well down to the soul.

Perfection

You don’t have to be perfect for me. I don’t want perfect or ideal, what I want is you and everything that entails.

Indeed, I would even say, please, don’t be perfect. If I wanted perfect, I would go and live with the Lord in heaven; I would leave behind all this mess. But you are enough for me. I do not need perfect, because I have found beautiful humanity in you. “We” are what I want. Please do not be perfect, my love. You cannot be, I do not expect you to be, and I will not require that standard of you.

You are human, my dear, and so am I. Neither of us can reach the heavenly heights of perfect, so let us not fool ourselves. Let us not allow the fairytales painted in lies cloud our heads of what is good and beautiful. You, my love, are good and beautiful. that, and never forget it. I have not, and I will not. So I’ll say it again: Do not try to be perfect, my wonderful love. June

Home in Us

We can make a home of our souls for us; our home is us together. I’ll be your haven, you’ll be my refuge, and we’ll be each other’s home. In tender togetherness, our hearts will be the hearth we warm by. Our love will burn bright, we’ll be safe, secure, and alright. I will build these walls with you, on this foundation of protection and peace. I won’t let a feather in the world disturb you.

I am yours and would be blessed if you’d be mine.

I love you.

No One

There’s no one I’d rather see the world with, than you. There’s no one I’d rather experience life with, than you. There’s no one I’d rather struggle alongside, than you. There’s no one I’d rather wake up next to, than you. There’s no one’s life I’d rather be here for, than yours.

There’s no one I’d rather travel through this world and life with, driven by wanderlust of the soul, than you. To me, your story is wondrous

and although this life is hectic, with you, I love it.

Yours is my favorite of every book ever written. The one I’ll never, could never, tire of reading over and over again.

My love, until I get to explore the next chapter and watch it unfold, tell me, again about yourself; and please include all the little day-to-day details. Maybe soon, I can be a character in your book, once again. October

Couldn’t Sur

I wonder, if you could have felt the love I have for you, would his love even compare? Does he really love you? Really, genuinely? Or does he love the thought of you and only your physical body? Does he even know how lucky he is? Or does he just take advantage of the fact that you love him? Does he ever stop to just be in awe of you? Does he really love you down to your core and crave to be as near to your soul as humanly

and spiritually possible? Does he adore even the smallest thing about you? Does he dream of all the days when your heart will be right next to his? Or the moments where your head is on his chest or the nights when he gets to lay his cheek on your shoulder, to bury his face in your neck? Does he? Or does he love solely your skin and the thought of someone he can use without really loving? I’d like to know, because I doubt his, or anyone else’s, love for you sures mine.

An Ode to Our Journey

Through ups and downs, highs and lows, and plenty of ebbs and flows, I will be here, I will stay. Among insecurity and cuts to heal, through pain and sadness, I’m with you. Hard days and good days, through frustrations and joys, I’m never giving up on you, my love. We’ve both fought our battles, we both have our scars. I want to be with you and hold your hand, so that when we are old,

we’ll look at the stars (the same ones we see now), and say, “We’ve made it and we’re stronger than ever before because of it. I love you; through everything.”

We’re so fresh and young in love, and already been through a few rough days, but always together. You are my everything, my whole world. I want to share all this with you, forever. I’m never giving up on you. I’m here till the very end (and even through it). ♥ February 27 10:42 p.m.

Adore You—An Ode to Our Journey

And P.S., I’ll always adore you. I’m in this battle with you. I will not give up. You are my everything. I love you. February 27 10:55 p.m.

The Day

I cannot wait for the day when I lie on your chest in the blue of the morning, listening to your heartbeat, and feeling the peaceful rise and fall of your chest. I cannot wait to make you happy; that is my goal forevermore, this day and always. I want to create a joyous safe-haven for you to lie your head when you tire.

My shoulder can be your pillow, my love, my arms will be your blanket. I’ll protect you from the world,

my precious love. ♥ Nothing shall stir nor wake you.

We’ll go on adventures to the ranches of Wyoming and I’ll smile as I watch you beam with excitement at all the gorgeous wild horses. I’ll work hard to give you the world. Day unknown 11:52 a.m.

Irreplaceable

She is beautiful. Her flaws, perfect imperfections. Every little quirk and unique character trait, specific only to her, gives her a shine this dull world desperately needed. Her individuality is only one of the things that is so irreplaceable about her. She is perfect; even for the things she finds broken about herself, or the things she hates about herself, the deep things she’s embarrassed to show, or the things she’s scared someone will leave her for;

those things she feels insufficient because of. She is always enough. She is more than enough. She is perfect. She is beautiful. She is worth fighting for.

Do not be afraid, my love, I will hold you up above me, I will carry you through the waves. You always deserve good things, my love, though your past has convinced you otherwise. Even when you cannot it, I will remind you of your worth and beauty. I will always love you and I will stay steadfast in my fight for you. Even your flaws, I find wonder in. June 01

2:40 am

Even Your Darkness

You don’t even know the whole depth of the truth it is I tell when I say you are special to me and that I love you and that you are the most beautiful of all the beauties on earth, and when I say you are valuable, cherishable, and worth it. In fact, you mean everything to me. You are not only my whole world, but my whole universe. If you let me, I would drown in you forever. I will always hold your heart with gentle patience, quiet solemnity and grace,

with the deepest love and care, and with utmost respect. How these waterfalls of love have not yet burst from my chest, and cut me open like a cracked rock, I will never know; but it feels, inside me, like the swell of a large flood which could drown all of the galaxy. Maybe that is why I feel that I must love in drops; My waterfall scares many away. I’m scared of crushing or surprising whom I love by drowning them quicker than either of us could understand. I love too fast, and very, very hard.

P.S.: You are the most beautiful of anything I could even imagine,

even more than the angels. Even your darkness glows in beautiful colors to me, my love.

Blue Morning Glow

I picture 5 a.m. mornings; the low hum of cars ing by on the highway, the blue dawn light beginning to peek through the window shades. I roll over and see your beautiful face. Fast asleep. Still at peace away from the world. I pick up a book, seeing that you’re still not awake, and sip on some tea. Yet, I just can’t help but stare at your perfectly incredible face. All I want to do is kiss you and hold you as tightly against my heart as I can. The book I expected to read lays open on my lap,

against my knees, on the same page for two hours while I take it in— You are here. I’m with you, that is all my dreams come true. That is all I want, all I need. You with me. Jane Austen can wait— you are my favorite story to read, especially in that 5 a.m. glow.

(I’m jealous of her. I wish I were her with you.)

Eternally

I love you with all my heart and everything in me. If I’ve never told you how much you mean to me, and if I’ve never exhausted the human language attempting to relay how much I love you, then here is my meek attempt: I love you to the moon and back; from there, down to the deepest trench of the deepest ocean and from there all the way out to the farthest star. My dear, if, in this lifetime, it ever makes it there, then: all the way around the edge of the entire universe. If it makes it around even that before my last breath,

then all the way back down here, to earth—to you. That is how much I love you. Eternally. Eternally big, eternally high, eternally wide, and eternally long, Eternally lasting, and eternally strong, ever-enduring, persevering, unconditionally and intentionally. I love you forever deep, no matter what; simply forever, period.

Sympathy & Hope

Love Notes in Paintings

A good painting has shadows in it, it has contrast and dark sides. There would be no depth or beauty without the black and grey and bleak. I know it will take time, but you deserve to believe you’re lovable. January 18 around 2 a.m. (from our conversation that night.)

Starchild (You are special, do not give up)

She is a star child, always shining bright, but she is not from this world. Let her be, let her breathe, for she is not from this earth. She is moondust and starshine, lakes of sun and Jupiter’s sunsets. She breathes the ether and makes the stars her home. You can see the universe as liquid in her eyes. And through her hands, the universe flows

like an ocean. February

When?

“When will the feelings stop?” you asked me one day. And I said, “The feelings may never stop, but I hope one day you’ll feel comfortable enough with someone, that you won’t be afraid of love.”

(P. S. I hope she is loving you well.) May 11:50 p.m.

You Are Fearless

I’m proud of you for making it this far. I’m proud of you that, in the face of all who’ve wronged you or hated you or hurt you, you have continued to move forward with so much strength in your heart. I know it took a lot (everything in you, even), but you are here and that counts. That is enough. My gosh, you are the strongest force of nature and my goodness, I am so, so proud of you. Keep going, you beautiful, strong being. Even if you don’t feel fearless,

you are.

(I’m proud of you for just being here.)

It Takes Courage

Healing can be just as scary as pain. “I don’t know what to do.” “I’m not sure what to expect.” Those are worries you always voiced to me. And I understand, because healing takes courage, too.

I know you wanted healing and I know it is daunting, but you are courageous, I’ve seen that in you. And I am always here, for when you need to fall. Healing isn’t all forward motion. It takes a lot of failing, a little help, and a couple backward steps, too.

You are doing great.

(You are a beautiful masterpiece. I will fight for you. I will not give up.)

Loved Deeply

Deep love is scary; it’s a long fall from where we’ve put ourselves. It’s hard to fall into grace, forgiveness, and unconditional acceptance, when we’ve been conditioned to judge ourselves so harshly and hold ourselves to a standard which we cannot attain. To fall into the enveloping arms of comfort is to abandon the negative view of self which has plagued us all our lives, and the notion that we are not good enough, and to accept the all-seeing eye of love with assurance and confidence,

though shaky. And to do that, is to be vulnerable and have our hearts laid bare; leaving so much room for hurt if we are betrayed or if they discard us because of our shambles and walk away. To have our self-judgements made available to be confirmed by another is a scary, risky, and courageous thing. Be bold. Be loved. Be deeply loved. January 17 6:32 am

Otherworld Souls

The other-world souls shuffle by, with stardust in their soul and moondust in their hearts, their minds full of other worlds. The universe hides in their eyes. Their souls have so much more in them than this planet could offer; this world could never quench their depths. Souls too deep for even all the stardust or lakes of sun to fill. This world is too little, too shallow and bland for an intricate, prism-like soul as theirs. This world is never enough for them, it never will be. Their faces will always be turned up toward the sky

or down toward the ground where their feet walk, and their hearts, inward, within their own world, for this one does not sustain them. They will always be looking for something more. They are seekers, searchers for the realm where their soul truly belongs; a world far from this one, on the other side of the starry boundary of this universe. They turn inward and set themselves apart. Through creativity, they make their own life. They are special souls, flowers in a field of grass, golden rivers of beauty and life. No, they do not belong to this world; in classrooms or nine-to-fives, living noncreative lives.

They grace this world like blue moons, but they are not ours. They are sojourners on a path to their destination. They through, but here is not their home. They are barely guests; they are silent leaders. Watch them, in awe, bring life to this dying world. These souls were not born to bow, but rather, to rise; to set an example of simplicity and true living. They are not of this world, this is not their home nor where they lay their head to sleep; they sleep among the stars with the sun’s rays warming them while the universe hushes to hear their thoughts and listen

to their dreams. Make no mistake, they are not yours, they out not to be strangled into the cage of this world. Their dreams are what nirvana springs from. Do not look down on these souls nor snuff out their ever burning flame of hope and life. And most importantly, do not mistake them for depressed rebels or simply artists; their creativity runs this world. They need not be fixed, whose eyes carry the weight of the universe inside of them; rather, they were sent here to fix this world.

These other-world souls are roses; strong, bold, hopeful symbols of strength and love and healing. They are those we point at

and call “failure” because their talents do not satisfy our meaningless standards of As and Bs in those chopping-blocks of life we call classrooms. Grades of generalized “success” do not measure life. For, according to the beauty of life, they have it all, and rather, we have failed. A snuffed-out light may never shine for you again. Snuff out not the light and life of the deep otherworld aboriginal soul. Listen to the ion of their minds and the strength of their hearts. For, if given a true chance, they will most certainly blow your mind. Encourage them, sit silently and appreciate the beautiful things that come

from their free souls.

Shards of a Broken Heart

Broken souls sparkle much more than whole ones. They have a story of trials and healing which offers an example of strength and courage to those others who struggle. They know, they sympathize, they see. Broken shards catch light much better than a whole glass. There’s far more ways for love to resonate with those who have known pain. Your broken heart is beautiful. Your broken heart deserves love.

Even if it pains you to see your shards fill your hands, do not let them discourage you.

Your value cannot be erased or diminished with cracks or heaps of ash. Be proud of the healing journey you are taking. You are facing what no one else ever has— your life. You shine, my love, even if your flowers grow through glass.

You are good enough. You are more than enough. You are not too far gone. You are never too broken. You are beautiful. You have your own strengths, but you are still human. Be graceful with your own self. And, indeed, you deserve to be loved and seen and cared for. Don’t let anyone judge you for what you’ve been through. Only you have overcome the shit that has happened in your life. They’ve never been you. They don’t have the right to say you’re weak, as they’ve never walked through your journey

as you in your life.

Did you know, there are millions upon trillions of different stories unfolded across humanity? The exact set of events which have occurred in your life have never happened to anyone else. Ever. No one has been you, beautiful. So walk through your journey as only you can and know that you own that shit like no one else could.

Home in the Stars (For all our sisters whom we’ve lost to suicide)

She finally figured out how to step outside of her flesh and give her spirit up to the stars. She walked into the universe and has since never come back. The stars were always her home, and now she is among her kin away from this world. All the supernovas are her guardians; the diamonds of the sky, her sisters. That sun you see from far away, twinkling extra bright today, that is her. She is always here,

simply where her heart yearned to be: among the galaxies and constellations. She was made for the deep, twinkling, vast, and free ether of the starry universe. Her feet will never touch the ground again, but such is her will. So leave her be and wish upon her shooting star. You’ll still see her, she’ll just be shining from afar.

This world was misery for her. Do not wish to constrain her again with the pain she intended to flee. We all know that if she came back, or never left, you would just have wanted—

even expected— her to resume “normalcy”; the very events in life which she hated and which she fled from. Mourn, yes; but realize, this world was not her friend. It simply never was. Her happiness was not allowed her here. Your expectations and requirements of living— all the weight of this wretched existence— would never have satisfied nor fulfilled the hope and will of her soul. She is happier not being here. February 21

Present Scars from the Past

Her scars were already burned deep into her skin before you. The marks were already there, and are still there. Though you were not there to witness the infliction, it happened. Her life happened before you arrived. So, do not be surprised when she is not open nor trusting nor even okay. Her story is not for you to transcribe nor judge; her pieces, only she knows. Don’t act like God that you should think you know her situation or how much she’s suffered

or how much it did or should have affected her. Be there with patient kindness. Hold out a gentle, quiet hand. Be there, but don’t push her. Don’t let yourself become frustrated with her process, which she has survived by. Take with gentle hands, her heart when she gives it to you. Do not act like she is a blank slate, she is not. You are not the only person who has entered her story or made a chalk line on her slate. You are not her beginning. Her story does not reset for you. Her story is a long journey that only she has walked through and of which you have seen only very little. Healing is a long

and messy, ugly thing. You haven’t walked through her walk. You haven’t ever been through it to think you could know how it should go. Give her time. Be present. Give her the space and safety to do what she needs to unfold her path. You came into her life. that. You came into her already-existing life. She did not begin with you. And your hands are not the only that have touched her.

You need to know that even your gentle touch can seem threatening to her. Be patient. She needs that love. She deserves that love. Show that to her. Your patience and gentleness and assurance mean more to her than you could ever understand.

P.S. a note: To say to a hurting woman, “Yes, but I’m not the same, I’m nice!” Is like trying to explain the color green to one who has only ever seen red.

It also is only aggravating because it’s like saying “your trauma doesn’t matter. It shouldn’t have shaped you.” Your explanation of your separate existence (which has always been apart from her) does not, cannot, erase her trauma nor the way her mind interprets events. Trauma responses— defense mechanisms for those things which have threatened her all her life— don’t just go away like blown dust. You saying that you are different doesn’t somehow make her fear disappear. Accept how she feels. Be patient. Be understanding. Don’t frustrate or try to hurry her healing process, which already hurts and is difficult in itself. It requires so much strength and effort and energy

for her to even walk along the path she is on. Respect her and be proud of her. Simple as that. What has been a threat to her is already threatening to her. That fear that she has doesn’t change for you. You’ll never have to see the world the way she’s seen it, from her eyes, or felt it the way she has from her body or her heart, so don’t disregard or belittle her struggle by retorting with, “I’m different. Stop worrying about it. I’m nice”. Those words will not solve anything. What assurance she does need is this: “You are worth it and worthy. You are enough. You deserve to be valued. You are important. You deserve to be loved and cared for. You are irreplaceable.” These are all truthful realizations; inherent unspecific truths which will help her discover for herself her innate worth. They are self-discovery truths,

and this is what she needs; to be equipped with the truth and a safe place to learn to believe it.

Patience and gentleness are necessary. July 11

Air Which Holds Your Essence (Thank you for being here)

Your essence makes the air around it precious just for what it holds. Your soul, itself precious. Your soul, which surrounds your beating heart. Your heart, which creates the words which flow from your mouth. Your words, the sound which the wind carries of your thoughts and your emotions. And oh, how that makes the wind so sweet. ♥ What a misfortune it would be if the air which surrounds you

could never feel the beat of your heart nor carry your words nor fill your lungs with life, again. The world would change. The winds would mourn and carry whispers of solemn pain. An emptiness would forever be about the void, which your essence no longer would fill. This world would change without your soul, and not for the better; rather, the worse. Stay here, please. I’m glad to have met you; that you are not gone. I think I wouldn’t have felt

such a reason to stay without ever having known you. My soul always knew you were here. And it was most excited to finally meet you. Indeed, my soul searched for you to begin with. I need you here (but do not let my need burden you. I simply love you and wish for you to feel and know the love and appreciation I have for you and the very fact that you are here). You fill a great void, which, without you, would forever hang about the universe and all the expanse of the heavens. You were written in the stars.

A locket in my heart will forever hold yours near. April 01

10:11 p.m.

Tear-stained Warriors

We will empty our pain to the stars and hug our favorite comfort close. We’ll cry like the hurting souls we are, but then tomorrow, we get up and fight with abandon like the strong souls we are. It is a fight. And it is a fight we’ll fight maybe forever, but you will never be alone. Look at the stars and watch them twinkle and know, someone else is out there looking at the same stars with tear-stained cheeks; right alongside you.

You are a warrior,

a force to be reckoned with. And let me tell you, the waves in the ocean know your strength, for they carry the weight of tears no one knows have been cried, and they know how heavy it is to bear and withstand alone. You are courageous for even just surviving.

See how far you’ve come: you’ve come this far. Be proud of that. Carry that with you, as a banner of hope and let the stars sing you to sleep. For we’ll awake tomorrow stronger than yesterday, maybe with more scars, but with another day down. And we’ll own this day, too. All of us will, all of us constituting the band of hurting souls.

You’ve fought many battles and this is our tribe. Continue taking a step forward each day you wake. Continue moving forward; look back upon the resilience you’ve had. My love, never let this world discourage you from hope and dreaming and from searching for better things. This is your journey. Walk it. And do not stop taking a step at a time. You weren’t meant to handle everything, so give up to the heavens the things you cannot control and take the reigns like a boss in the ways you can steer your life. Do not let go of your inner strength.

Never forget this: You are enough. Let the moon and the sun and the clouds

and the rain and the sea remind you of that. We are the tear-stained warriors. Welcome, sister. Some day in May

Heartbreak/Loss

A Joke

I guess I’m over it, too; the way I’d look at you. You never even cared. All I am is clout to you. There’s no point in any of this because you are always distant. Once in a blue moon, you check in on me. Once in a green moon, you actually read my reply. And once in a turquoise moon, you say something back. It’s all just a joke to you, isn’t it?

Dancing with Toxicity

I guess I just wish you’d care, like some (most) other people do. But I’ve believed the lies that rolled off your tongue; I’ve ignored your toxic behavior. That’s my fault, I guess, I just wish you were better. It’s my mistake for ever giving you a chance. Don’t worry though, it won’t happen again; let’s end this foolish dance. October 01 6:11 a.m.

Your Pawn

If you don’t care, don’t say you do. If you don’t like me, don’t pretend to. I don’t have time for games or constant doubt. Don’t play with my kindness the ways you have. Stop shredding my heart. You don’t know me at all, do you? It shows. But I suppose, neither do I know you. We suck at this game. You play me like your peasant pawn, but all of that ends here. No more.

One-Sided Love

It’s funny the way love works, the way it plays. It strings one heart to another, and that heart to yet another. Sometimes, people just don’t fall in love with each other.

Oh, one-sided love, you wretched bastard, somehow stronger than two-sided love. For, even two who fall in love with each other might fall out of love one day. Yet, one-sided love most take to the grave.

Both

The way you love him and the way he loves you— all that added up— that’s how much I loved you.

A Little Unfair

He gets to love you in ways I never got to. And you drowning yourself in him is how much, in every way, I loved you, but couldn’t. It’s a little unfair how lucky he is.

Her Forever

He gets to be her forever and I will forever be her never. January 01 1:47 p.m.

To Fall in Love

If I’d never met you, I’d not even know what falling in love feels like. But I wonder: is it better to die brokenhearted or to live, having never known what it’s like to fall in love? January 12:01 a.m.

Never Know My Pain

You love him, don’t you? I can tell because I know. And now you know what I’ve known; you’ve tasted what it’s like to be in love. You’ve drank from the cup of the insane. It’s the most beautiful hell, isn’t it? Or is it only hell for me, because, well, it couldn’t be?

I wish you all the happiness and luck and I hope that your heart

never has to break as mine has. May you never know my pain.

Cheers and congrats to you…and yours.

Other-world Legends

Today we stand in front of each other and look at each other as if through glass. We are like a distant dream that lies somewhere in the ether, but not here in this life. You can see it in our eyes: in another universe, we are connected, inseparable. And those bonds tie us, somehow, in this life, but not enough to keep us together. So, after we look in that odd foggy glass and see the other’s face, we turn and walk past. Eyes full of moments and memories we never shared. Maybe in another life

we would have been more than just other-world legends. January 2 4:23 p.m.

Too Good to Be True

I knew it was too good to be true. I knew I should have expected that she’d leave me like they all do. I had just hoped (I’m always only ever hoping), that, maybe this time, it wasn’t too good to be true. Maybe this time, she really loved me. Maybe this time, this one would really care and prove that to me forever. March 26 2:27 a.m.

Reason

Maybe the reason that I deserve better is that you never loved my chaos the way I loved your mess. Your broken pieces were art and music to me. Mine, to you, were shards to be swept away. I embraced your tears when you fell apart, but if I so much as missed you and said so, you’d ignore me. I was a nuisance to you, while, to me, your quirks were the axis my world spun around. You were my everything, my forever. I was your nothing,

your never. May 1:17 p.m.

It’s You

Sometimes, the tears get less and I think I’m getting over you. Later, they come like rivers. Other times, the tears are dry, and on those days, I think I can really say goodbye. Yet within the next hour, or minute, or day, someone asks me, “Who is always on your mind?” and all I can do is hide my face and cry, because it’s you. It’s still you. It’s always you.

Paralyzed

My life stopped after you. I cannot do anything; I am paralyzed. Everything reminds me of you: I cannot enjoy my tea in the mornings without ing how I held my warm mug close as I watched your smile light up my world. I cannot think of any of your favorite things, though they are at the forefront of my mind and unshakeable; neither can I think of you, which is impossible to do, without stopping for a solemn minute and mourning that you aren’t mine.

Enough

They say better is coming, but I don’t want better than you. You are enough for me; what I want is you. How can there be better, when, to me, you are the best? I don’t want anything other than you.

May I ever have the honor of loving you, again? I want to love you. Only you.

Most Deserving

In all the ways you felt inadequate (for me or for my love, I’m not sure), were all the ways I thought you were most deserving of love.

‘I Don’t Believe in Love’

“Your laugh is a drug to me,” I’d say, “You are beautiful.” And you would reply, “I don’t feel it.” But darling, you are more gorgeous than all the stars and supernovas.

“I love you,” I would say. You replied, “I don’t believe in love. I don’t deserve you.” But baby, you deserve me more than I even want anyone else in this whole world to.

June 01 4:01 a.m.

A Very Present Absence

When I try to you or whisper your name in the quiet of night, the grip you have on me chokes me and I cannot breathe. I cry the pain in my heart out; you were my remedy. Who knew the lack of something is what is heaviest to carry?

I am missing you and that crushes me. How is it that your presence is so light, while your absence is what weighs on me?

The One Your Heart Wants

Why can I no longer be the one your heart wants? What changed? You left just like you came: without warning. And now I am left with only one beating heart and none to hold, none to rest against.

I miss your voice and the way the song of your heart would lull me into peaceful rest. I await the day I hear it again.

We Were Real

You know that what we had was real, don’t disregard it. Don’t forget what we were, because it is truer than you’d like to it, isn’t it?

I’d Rather Cry with You

I’m not scared of how you’d hurt me, because, honestly, I’d love you anyways (and I know you do not want to hurt me, it is why you think you are protecting me from your presence).

You were a god to me. You were my reason. I’d rather the pain you’d inflict on me, and all the tears I’d cry with you in our struggle, than have the perfect Sunday afternoon with someone else and cry anyways, without you, trying to endure the constant pain of my heart gripping at my lungs

stopping up my words, and twisting my gut.

Your name will always be imprinted upon my heart, whether I’m with you or not. The only difference is who I cry with and what I cry about (one of them will always be you).

‘Ante Merīdiem’

It’s four a.m. and I’m feeling it. That deep, dull ache, you know? I’m feeling it most because I’m not with you.

The morning is lame and deeply empty without you. The cool, soft blue becomes a biting, endless suffering.

In mane, ego sum perditus sine te. Tua absentia convertit me ad nihilum. Ego cecidit in amore cum te. Sine te nihil sum.

Cake at Midnight

I sit at midnight, under the one light of the pale moon eating store-bought chocolate cake. I’m not sleeping anyways, these days. I’m afraid this confectionary pastry is the only sweet thing I’ll taste for quite a while.

Oh how I miss your lips.

It’s About You

If I smile about anything these days, it’s about you. And if I cry about anything, it’s about you, too

You’re making someone else somewhere out there smile. Their friends are saying they look happier. But that used to be me. And now, my smile is fading.

Empty Silhouette

“I’ll always love you, I’m going to fight for this,” I say into the empty night where you once stood yet are now nowhere to be seen. You left me standing there, talking to myself. Before I knew it, you were gone. How did I lose you?

You left me while I still loved you, talking to your empty silhouette. But when would I stop loving you, that you ever could leave unloved by me? Never. 5:01 a.m.

Forever Ended too Soon

You were my future. But as your face in my memory fades, I no longer know what that looks like. I haven’t the vaguest clue. All of me revolved around all of you. Our forever was my plan, but our forever ended too soon.

Pages

At least our memories will last forever, …won’t they?

Do not bury a living thing. Our last page has not yet been written to even be turned. No, my love, we have volumes left to live and we’ll create them with the ink of our love.

The pen has only run dry for this season. But ours will not be laid to rest.

With Her Name

Will you marry her one day, just because it’s easier? Will you always attempt to forget me with every night you hold her close and whisper her name? Is her name just the water you use to try to wash the memory of me away? To erase me from your heart? I hope my name is never washed from your heart nor forgotten by your soul. Our love really was not so forgettable, was it? I believe it wasn’t. I hope our hearts are always connected to each other, even if that’s invisibly from hundreds of miles away… But I hope we find our way back home one day.

Part of me will always be with you. Your name will always be written on a corner of my heart, along with our small forever, which is still engraved there; and it will not be for anyone but you.

My soul still loves you. Our love will always live in my heart.

Up with the Thought of You

There’s something about your name at three a.m. that rings and resonates, overwhelms, yet numbs me at the same time. I drown in your memory with no way out. I cannot sleep. I’m up with the thought of you.

Healing is Scary Too

You were afraid of the way I healed you. For healing given so softly, comfort warranted so gracefully, startles the wounded heart. Love came as a surprise to you; you never expected to be so accepted. Is that why you left?

Well, nonetheless, my love for you continues to stand. You are always welcome home whenever you are ready. These fires of love within my heart will warm you from the bitter cold. But I know even little warmth feels like a burn when all your world has numbed you under its torrents of snow.

Afraid of Love

You always told me you’d never let me love you, that you were afraid of love: being loved and falling in love. That didn’t miraculously change with her, did it? Could anyone heal your heart so well as I? Did she succeed in the very thing I strived for yet, clearly, failed at? Sometimes I wonder if you still love me and are just too afraid to it it. The fall of us was so sudden.

Where is the truth?

Goodbyes

We exchanged our fears, our hopes and dreams, even our time, many I love you’s, and then our goodbyes.

But I never wanted to say goodbye. 6 a.m.

Temporary Highs and Pretty Lies

You’ve always chased temporary highs, which explains why you left after telling me elaborate, beautiful lies. (You knew what I wanted to hear, didn’t you?) As soon as the love was substantial you left.

But how then do you seem so serious with her?

Talents

You gave me heartbreak and this is all I can gain from it. I’m sorry my talent is not what you wanted it to be; I don’t have much skill in saying goodbyes. My ability to let go has always been compromised.

But if you’re reading this and thinking of me, maybe you haven’t moved on, either.

Garden of I Love You’s

All of our I love you’s were beautiful, blooming flowers in a garden, …a garden lain un-watered. Eventually, they all died.

Love needs to be watered, too. It takes effort to grow a flourishing garden of I love you’s. 6 a.m.

Average Love

You left my love for hers, I guess that says something. You weren’t even willing to simply stay. She must really be a whole lot better than she seems— or a whole lot worse, but why leave for the same amount of love? So maybe my love is less extraordinary and much more average than I thought.

Don’t Be Afraid

You’ve told me you’re afraid of hurting me. I’ve told you not to fear that chance. My dear, it is a risk we all face in love. When we open up and become close to another, we risk being hurt and disappointed by them and also us hurting them. For we always seem to affect those closest to us the very most. But you are worth the risk of humanity. All that and more to me. I trust you. Trust yourself. You deserve to feel safe in your own skin.

I want your love.

Stolen Happiness

Your new lover took my happiness away, for the sake of her own. Did I really deserve that? Was that a debt I owed to pay?

I miss you. And while I suppose everyone deserves happiness, is that all we chase? I suppose I’m selfish to think of my own, then, too.

Syllables

I’ve repeated your name so many times that I’m not even sure it’s really a word. It’s just syllables with a dreamy tone.

Only the most beautiful syllables.

Etsy Wedding

It was silly of me to have planned our wedding, when I knew you were already gone. I can’t help it, but I’m in love with you.

On my search, I found little wooden doodads engraved with the words, “Always and forever”. And I ed that we once would have been so, too.

Intentional Love

Tell me, is she as intentional about loving you as I? I can’t imagine that anyone could ever love you more than I do. And it only seems so unfair that I don’t get to love the one whom I truly love.

Can a pair really go separated for all of eternity?

Someone Else

You are so beautiful and yet, now someone else has the great honor of convincing you of that every single day upon which they wake.

P. S. You are beautiful.♥ I hope you know that.

I Wish…

I guess you liked the thought of love, but in the end, it was too much for you.

Yet, I still can’t help but hope that you wish she were me.

Or maybe I’m just blind and delusional. I’ve always been a hopeless dreamer, but it’s probably true that I simply failed you.

First Thing

Your name is still the first thing my heart says when I wake up with the sun. It is bitter, yet almost sweet, full of remorse, memory, and much pondering. June 04 10:01 a.m.

On the Run

Your happy will always be temporary, won’t it? You will never find full satisfaction or joy. You chase temporary emotion. (Maybe because you are afraid the real ones might leave, and that would hurt much worse.) You will never fight for what is real, will you? (Or have you already fought so hard, just to have things fail, that you’ve lost the hope to try again? Energy simply fails you?)

But I suppose that is what happens when you have a life you must always be on the run from.

Your legs are eventually stuck walking— and walking away. I do not blame you for it. I wish I could hold your heart and love you back to health.

Regret Forgetting

All the memories of you that I’ve forgotten are pieces of you which I’ve lost. And I regret those slips of recollection (especially after all I already did lose with you).

But one day, your name will not be the one on my lips. And that will be the day my heart can finally sing again. (When will I be free from you, even since you forced me out? But I suppose it just has to go the way it does; you just couldn’t love me for purpose’s sake.)

Yet, is it crazy to say I don’t want anyone else’s name on my lips? Even still, you are the one I love.

Luxuries

Sleep is a luxury, which the heartbroken cannot afford.

Forbidden Love

Theirs was a forbidden love, yet sometimes she wanted to kiss her. In their eyes their love would live. And in the quiet mornings and sunny, orange-tinted afternoons. In the silent of night and in the joy of laughter and wedding bells, there their love will stand. She will never stop loving her and will never look at another woman with the same shine in her eyes. They look at each other and their love is in their stare. But no, it shall not be. It shall never be. So, their love will live in whispers and in the wind.

The greatest unspoken love. And yet, every now and then, she looks at her and just wants to kiss her. Sometimes. But no, forbidden is their love. January 12 4:03 p.m.

Lonesome Thoughts

Deep in my subconscious, I know I’m alone. I try not to feel that way, but the thoughts are my only company. I end up facing reality and dropping my face to stare at my bed. “I’ll always be alone.” I say, “Maybe it’s meant to be that way.”

While she is out, careless for me, I sit and cry, wondering… what am I to her? Maybe I care too much or love too much. But there’s no such thing as loving too deeply, is there? No.

But there is fear of acceptance of love so deep.

I war with the thoughts in my mind, each side stating its case: “Stay, it’s a set back! Wait it out, all will be fine.” Says one; a smile perches on my face. And then side two peeps up and makes the almost-fleeting worry swarm my head, once again, “She hates you. It’s obvious. She never loved you. She lied. She’s using you”. With many words, it chokes me. My heart goes fast and my breath goes short. Reality spins before me. Nothing seems real or valid. Nothing is tangible or certain or stable. All I know, is now I feel sick, because it all seems to be a lie.

A lie I chose, for once, to trust. I finally opened up and vulnerably confided in one who shared mine worries. And yet, I suppose she did not have the grace in her heart nor patience, as I. Or was it me who was so blind? “Did she ever even love me?” the questions arise. With no answers to counter them, they multiply. They get louder and bigger and more dire. Mostly vague, sometimes vivid, yet all the same unanswerable. And still, the silence drones on. No word from her nor hint of interest. No, ‘I love you’ nor

‘I wish you were here’. Just me and my thoughts; my loud, lonesome thoughts.

I shake them away and force a smile, “It’ll all be fine. It has to be. We’ll get through this, it won’t be the same forever.”

It wasn’t okay. It all came crashing and burning down.

Hard to Say Goodbye (Once Yours)

I was looking at engagement rings yesterday. Not to buy one, but to picture them on your hand. I had a hard time seeing it though, and maybe that was a sign.

I’ll miss your voice and that beautiful accent which will be music to someone else’s ears, now. I’ll miss your perfectly sculpted face, your smokey eyes, your button nose. The expressions you make, I’ll never forget; the way you scrunch your nose when you say something emotional or sappy that you’re nervous or embarrassed about.

It’s hard to say goodbye. I hate to say goodbye. I never wanted the end to come so soon— or even at all.

I loved our two a.m. facetimes and falling asleep to the sound of you breathing. I being so excited to one day lay my head upon your chest and listen to the song of your heartbeat.

I loved when you’d look at me with your pretty, river-blue eyes and tell me, “You’re mine.” Or when you told me I was beautiful in a hushed, sincere whisper. Or when the words “I love you”, came clearly off your tongue

on those days you meant it. I’ve missed that for a while.

I’ll miss that face you make when you’re serious; when you raise your eyebrows and your voice goes steady. When you act real tough, though really, you’re so soft. And I never thought you were mean, as you seemed to believe.

Oh, my love, I miss your love! I wanted you and I to last forever. But was there ever really a “you and I”? Or did I dream you up in my head, make you real in my heart, and envision you to life for you to exist only my imagination?

Were your perfect imperfections and beautiful, irreplaceable flaws ever real? Or do I exist on another planet where I may never smell your scent or tangibly reach you to embrace you?

Where are you that you came and left so fast? I barely knew you, and now it feels I’ll never know you again.

I was yours once. Do you ? Before you discarded me like a broken shot glass. I was yours; your love.

I meant something to you, once. Maybe reality hit in too unpleasant

a way, or maybe you became scared and needed to be the one to walk away. Maybe it’s your deep hurts and pain and scars. I know your bank of trust is low and guarded.

I wanted to love you. I wanted to see the garden you hide behind your walls; the walls you built around your heart. I wanted to lay in your fields of flowers, and stare up at the sky of your world. I wanted to close my eyes and fill my lungs with the air of your atmosphere. I wanted to stay up until the sun fell asleep to discover your moons and many stars.

But yet, all things,

I suppose, have an ending. I just thought—and it’s my fault— maybe we would never have an end. Maybe I would never have to say goodbye. Not to you. I never thought our last “I love you” would come so early. I never thought I’d be the last to say it, like a question never answered, an echo never rung.

I loved you. I loved you more than anyone. I still do. I still do. Always and always.

Now back to the beginning, since it’s the end… to the first time we said it: I “Luv u” forever and ever, always and always. Once yours, twice left behind, third time’s a charm, …goodbye.

Well, I tried.

Almost Ours

I cannot sleep, I’m awake with thoughts of you. Your contagious, heavenly smile beaming at me, frozen in pixels. I’ll imagine your unguarded laughs, if I can them, and I’ll laugh that way and feel close to you.

But no, I’ll move on, too. Maybe as quick as you. (No, not possible.)

I’ll smile with another girl and drown in her voice and scent; her eyes and smile. I’ll tuck her hair behind her ear

like I’ll never get to do with you, and kiss her lips deep and slow with the love you’d never give me.

You have pages in my journal, and a chapter in my life, though, I guess our story wouldn’t write the final line of my book.

But this always: I love you truly, deeply, purely, and gently. You are my love, my world, mi amor. Sending one last hug, Your could have been April 8 1:15 am

P.S. I’ve kept my box of us. You’re still a piece of me, (though distant and barely real and

now, even gone).

P.P.S. It would be this very next day on which we’d say our last “I love you.”

I Dream of You

It seems as though we talk through a film; pretending like we don’t what we once were, what we once had: a love. It’s as if we’ve re-met as different people. I no longer know you and you no longer know me, nor care to know me. No more interest, nor light in your eyes, save a ing spark when we say goodbye. We talk as friends, as if there’s never been anything more between us.

It feels as if I’m keeping quiet about the greatest story I have to tell— my mouth has been zipped and the memories of us have been locked away in a box in a very recluse part of my mind. A secret I don’t want to hide.

Just like that, I’m yours no longer. (though, have I ever told you, I want to be yours?)

Just as fast as the moments came, so, the memories left. And oh, what a shame for something so wondrous, so beautiful, to be buried and forgotten. Sunday afternoon dreams of

watching sunsets on our front porch, now fogged by a haze. I see you standing beside a truck with our little mini-you in overalls, a cowboy hat, and proper leather boots. You’re both clad in matching blue plaid— my favorite button-up of yours— at grandma’s house after church. But now, the thought feels only like an almost-echo, an out of reach, almost out of sight memory that will never be. They stay dreams. I suppose they were born as far-fetched hopes and they’ll forever live and die as only dreams; I’ll die with them in my heart.

I thought I’d dreamed you into life, but, I guess you’re just a fragment of imagination, adored by my heart.

No, I’ll never love anyone the way I once loved you (and truly, I still love you).

I may never love again. I can’t; not after you. I’ve met you, known you, loved you, and now my heart desires only you; but, for some reason, it can’t have you. Funny how everything changes, isn’t it? Funny how we’ve switched starborn scripts. Can we never catch each other at just the right time?

Or will we always meet, only to be ers-by for all of eternity?

I dreamed of you before I even ever met you. I dreamed of you while you were mine, too. And now it seems I’ll only ever dream of you. But, instead of bright Sunday evenings and a picnic, or a ranch in Wyoming, or a cabin in the mountains, it will be dreams of all the I love you’s I, we, will never get to say. It will be of all the nights I’ll never get to hold you close. It will be frameless dreams that fragment into fog

and become the tears rolling down my cheeks. It will be your name I scream at night; only, because you are not here.

It will be me looking westward, wondering if you are looking eastward; imagining how many times we’ve faced each other and met eyes across all these hundreds of miles.

It will be me, scrolling through your Facebook page in years to come, just to pretend I still know you.

It will be me, crying as you hold another woman close; when you are married, but not to me;

when you are someone’s, but not mine; when I have to kiss the dream of hugging you goodbye; when I can only fantasize that kiss you would have given me, before my plans changed. And indeed, to this day, I do not desire the lips of another.

It will be me, seeing you, searching for you, in every person I meet (to my own disappointment and their disadvantage) and turning my face away silently, solemnly when I don’t find you in any of them.

Deafening silence turned lovers

to strangers when, once, it was stranger to lover from that simple chance I finally took.

I guess forever does have an end; though, I had thought ours might be eternal. I guess our book has closed much more prematurely than I’d thought. I wasn’t ready; I really would never have been ready for it to end.

But I’ll still you (how could I forget you?), even if silently. And I thank the Lord you’re in my life. Your place is not forgotten.

I miss you. April 27 2:08 a.m.

Lost Dreams

My dream is lost day by day, into the offing, it fades away. You seem more like a shadow than the vivid character you once were in my life, and all the hopes I had with you are faceless and uncertain, hidden by a spiritual curtain.

I cannot find you; my love is not here, rather, instead there stands a stranger with your same likeness and appearance.

I miss my love. But I suppose it was never they, but you, oh you dreamy hope— a façade of what I loved and held so dear.

Never were they real, just a good charade acted by the stars. Yet, if not they, then who will fill the now-empty face in my dreams? Who will be my Sunday afternoon love? Who’s love will naturally nourish this bleeding heart? Whose pieces will fit with mine as a heavenly puzzle (seemingly torn by the gods)? Whose glass will make a mosaic with mine in our ed garden of life and blessings, sorrows, storms, and battles? Whose face will fill the empty hole where hers once was? All that empty space. Will anyone ever be so stunning, so breathtaking as she? Will all this fade away and seem silly and foolish one day?

I suppose I’ll never know until I’m there. Oh what a journey of lost and gained and changed dreams.

So is life, I suppose, but hear the cry of my heart: I hope this dream never changes, and I hope, by all the mercies and graces and miracles still grantable, that I’m granted this one wish: that her and I will share perfect love for all the length of eternity and that we will always have what we need within our home. Oh, heavens, grant me just that.

Cigarettes

Our love burnt out like the cigarette in your ashtray. You smoked on me like I was sweet love, before snuffing our future out. You roll your ts of marijuana, while drops of sadness roll down my face. I thought you loved me, once. There was a time I believed you, when you had our cigarette love perched between your lips. But it was always going to burn out, wasn’t it? There was a limit on the high it gave you. Once the interest wore out,

you took me from your lips and tossed me away, stepping on me on your way to your next burning love. Goodbye, I guess.

You’ve left me with ashes which I’ll gather to our short chapter together. These black and white specks of dust are supposed to piece our time together, though they are vague and old, seemingly unreal. They are barely a semblance of us. Is this what we were? All I was to you? Was your love for me ever genuine?

Why did you leave me so? My questions will not be answered.

I sit in your ashtray while I watch you smoke your current high. You say this one makes you happy, but, have you already forgotten? You told me I made you happy, not long ago. Did you forget our good times? Our dreams together? Eventually, you hate seeing the incompleteness of us, so, you throw me, us, away and trod our love underfoot to let it the dust.

Once we were, now we’re not; is there where we’ll stay? My chapter in your life over,

burnt out.

A cloud of smoke hangs low in your car, our memories, which you ignore, or maybe just don’t , or have chosen to forget. I thought you loved the smell of cigarette smoke. But I wasn’t enough for you, I suppose. A high can only last so long. I see you one moment and you’re gone the next. You came so fast and left so quick; your laughing, smiling, beautiful face paused in time in my memory. I never knew that

that would be our last. I never knew I’d never see your face again after that day.

Alas! I watch you, your back turned to me from afar and I see the smoke of your next hot muse waft from your lips. Your sweet, yet sour, bitter lips, coated like honey, dripping with beautiful lies. The river of smoke running from your mouth curls with the seeming intent to linger, but it will always drift away and be no more.

Don’t you know, oh, past lover of mine,

that no matter what cigarette you smoke, it’ll always run short on high and out of time? You can’t throw a muse away when the flame fizzles out or when that pique of steamy new interest catches your heart and eye.

But oh, oh, lover, I’m sure none would say “no” to you. No, none would say “no” to such the likes of you. You came like a bright, strong star out of the sky. Your black shirt, buttoned up to your neck; your grey eyes glinting blue

in the afternoon sun; your black belt and boots; a steel, black watch arming your wrist. My heart pounds. A grey cap sits atop your glowing auburn locks, revealing only the few stray wisps perfectly framing your face. The temperature rises.

You are a drug, my love. A drug I took too eagerly, became addicted to, and easily overdosed on. I lost myself. You became my world and I was nothing without you.

I breathed for you, woke for you, craved your sweet taste. I’d do anything to have you,

I could never get enough of you.

The withdrawals I have give proof to your powerful dose, the gripping hold you once grasped me with, me, and each of my waking breaths.

Now you face me, standing in the sun. Your eyes target me and I still. Your shadow casts fiercely upon the ground. I’d give in to your hands. But instead, as I wait and crave and imagine the goodness of your drug, and as I beg, you walk away. Your unhindered steps carry you far from me.

Your shadow disappears into the haze of cloudy, wispy cigarette smoke. Not a footprint left behind.

I’m left with the pain in my body, no way to reach my remedy. The rapid beating of my heart and the clenching pain in my chest seize me. Shortness of breath; air escapes me.

Pieces of me departed with you. I am just fragmented glass held together by nothing but the ground I lay on. You took my whole heart and, with it, the light from within mine eyes.

My energy, without you, is gone.

I writhe and cry out. There is no nicotine patch, nor substitute at all, to quench the overwhelming, enveloping ache and agony of my throbbing heart. I cannot sleep at night, for you were a potent medicine to me. Long ago, you made your appearance, loudly and now you’ve left quietly, without a word. You left me hanging. “Hush, oh loud, present silence!” I sweat with frustration, confusion, and sadness.

I miss you, but now all I am left with is the aftermath of your effect.

My withdrawal from you has not been pretty, and a long journey it will be. But, so far, I am one week sober of you; ever since you took our cigarette of sweet love from your lips.

And yet, I still love you. I wait for you to pick me up again and smoke me like you once did. I want to be your high.

Indeed, it hurts me to watch you love someone else. May 06 6:01 p.m.

Ex-High

I ride enger side in your 1998 Honda Civic. Summer vibes crack over the updated radio, the stereo’s rims changing color with every beat. The sun begins to paint the sky sherbet as it sinks below the small, open country road. The low-hanging smoke shines golden grey. Your hair is more halo in this light; your appearance feigns an angel.

You puff on the t hanging loosely between your fingers. Sneaker on the dash,

your face lightens with a laugh. You turn up the radio and scream out the lyrics, dancing, while smoke curls upward toward the open sunroof from the brown half-roll resting between your fore-and-middle fingers. Your stormy grey eyes catch the light and reflect almost blue. You inhale the last of the t and snuff it out in the ashtray right next to me, your ex-high, still warm from the fire you’d kindled in me. Yet, that was goodbye. May 20 12:51 p.m.

Gosh, I miss you. It’s been too long.

Please come home.

Love is Insanity

Love makes me insane. Or maybe the lack of it does. My mind tortures me, my heart won’t let go, it will not give up the pursuit of things lost and long gone. I don’t understand why you left me, or replaced me. It pains me how easily it was for you to do so. Did my love fail you? Was I so forgettable? Tell me what happened, put my mind at ease. Though yes, my heart may still be stir-crazy and restless, please, put my mind at ease.

These two (my heart and mind) drive me bonkers, bickering and whining. Day and night, they never stop their pining. I know you were my heart’s true love, but brain tells me, “No matter what, it wasn’t meant to be.” It says there is better out there and there’s none else to do, but wait for the better. Yet, Heart has closed up and locked herself away. “Back off!” she says, when anyone tries to pry, “Go away! I do not need your love of one day!” So, you see, Heart is not over it, no, not at all.

Far from healed, she keeps herself sealed. But Mind won’t stop analyzing every event therein occurred, he won’t leave the memories alone. Turning over and over her and my time together, “Where did I go wrong?” he questions. All he does is ponder. You filled my ocean to the brim with emotion and, once it poured over, you fled. Now I suffocate in the torrents around me, deep in feelings newly unleashed yet unallowed and so unaddressed. What is this mockery? Mockery of my love. Is it a joke to you that once I love,

I forever, deeply love? That once I open those floodgates, there’s no way to close them? Or is it a joke to poke into someone’s heart, lead them on and then disappear, while they cry over their bleeding, raw heart? You left me with many, many feelings unfelt and undealt with. And now you are gone and hidden away. Are you scared of my pain?

“Where did you go?” I ask and call, “Man up to the pain you’ve caused me.” But no answer is given. No, none at all. You drown me then leave me,

what torture is this? As soon as I am for you, you get up and stand against me?

You love someone else now, more than I could (clearly) hope and dream to have ever been loved by you. Or do you, really? Could you love another more than you loved me? And answer me this: could another love you as I loved you? I’m stuck here, crying tears from the emocean you gave me. No goodbye or “see you later”, just a whoosh and a shut and a lock of your door. Why? Why did you leave me so?

So swift and quick, unexpected and abrupt. Was there a reason? Or did you simply discover convenience that my love did not measure up to? Was my love so worthless to you? Was it so forgettable? Replaceable? Were our promises and dreams nothing to consider? Is it all so disregardable? Am I so discardable?

I knew you would find one whom you would want more than me. That “better” one or more “interesting” one. For it happens quite often, that I’m only a second choice; leftovers to those in need of me.

I’m always too much and never enough; somehow, at the same time.

I told you these fears and you brushed it off with, “You are special! Don’t worry about losing me.” I get it, my line here is, “goodbye”, but I don’t say goodbyes, you see, for I will not be played with. And I’m sorry for the questions, but my mind is a tease to me. Did you ever value me? Was I worth nothing to you? I wasn’t worth even a last word. Before I knew you were off of me, you were on someone else. Suddenly, then, I was told I was “interrupting”. And yet, how can I interrupt my own relationship

or steal what was mine, love or otherwise? You were my love, not hers; I disrespected no one. Your new lover is the hypocritical thief, who charged me with the same as her wrongdoings. But of course. I get it, she was scared of losing you, for she’s lost lovers, too. And who would want to lose you? I didn’t want to. But I did. And somehow I deserved it, the same way she deserved to steal you away.

She is the new one, whom took you from me.

I did naught wrong. She is the one who stepped right on my toes, went under my nose and kissed you without my knowing (and while I wasn’t there to do anything about it or defend my love).

Tell me where I went wrong? What could I have done differently? Nothing, because you never loved me, did you? Love me with honesty, or love me not at all. But you led me on, and have now opened the drama of my heart. You cannot just simply jump into someone else’s arms

without addressing the mess you made in me; or at least itting to the truth you have within you.

Let me ask you this, would you have loved me if only I were a little closer? If you could have held me in your arms, as you did that other woman? Or would you have fled even then at the sight of my waterfalls of love?

I loved your heart; yours was the heart I wanted to love. I loved your pieces, all the pieces of you which each shone in their own way. May 13 12:09 p.m.

Familiar

You felt too much like home to try and find home within another. I’m too familiar with and entangled in your world to really let it go and give it up and accept not being a part of it. I was proud to be in your life.

How can anyplace feel as familiar or as much like home as you do? I was involved in your everyday. I knew you, I saw your mess. And that is how I fell in love with you; your story captivated me, your heart and soul seized me. I saw you for your strong

heart, which carried all your battle scars and burdens; and for your tears, which carried years of pain. I saw your broken, your real humanness and upon such sight and sweet knowledge, my love for you deepened. How can I forget about that?

You were my world. There is nothing like the universe inside you; the world I grew to love. I can’t start anew and erase the love I’ve purposed for you. No. You are not replaceable. May 15 11:15 p.m.

Tell Me

When my mind was heavy, it was to you I’d go. When my heart was cracking, it was to you I’d turn for love. But now my heart is breaking over your absence; my heart thirsts for only your love. You aren’t here with me, and there’s a chance I’m not even in your mind. You are holding someone else, in their bed. You lied to my face and told me you were afraid to lose me; you told me that I was the one your heart wanted. But now you hide your face in someone else’s embrace.

And I’m just your “crazy” ex. That’s how the stories always go, isn’t it?

Tell me, when you met her, your “love”, did you tell her about me? Did you tell her that I was there for you when no one else was? When the whole world shut you out and turned its back on you; when you were alone and hurting? Did you tell her how I cried just about every night wanting to hold you when you were cold? Did you even tell her my name? Has she heard my identity from your mouth?

Did you tell her that before she came along I was your pride and joy? Did you mention any of this? Or did you fail to even me as you kissed her lips and slept in her bed that night? That first night. Or when you started conversing with her; unbeknownst to me, long before you even decided to tell me it was over? Did I ever come up in your words? Or does she think she’s that bitch, because she was led to believe— as I was— that she’s just always been the one? As if she’s always been there, rather than me. I bet she’d never even heard my name,

before she hung up that call. She wasn’t “your girl”; I knew she couldn’t be, because I was yours. Did you even think how much that would hurt me?

Did you fail to let her know that you were breaking someone’s heart? And breaking your promises? Did she even know she was disrespecting a relationship? Or am I really the only crazy one, having trusted our love to be true? Clearly, I was just playing with fire and waiting to be burned.

Tell me, was she just your quick remedy? Do you even love her like you loved me?

Do you kiss her like you’d kiss me? Do you hold her like you always said you wished you could hold me? I bet you do, seeing as everything you told me was a lie. Wasn’t it a lie? But you did try, didn’t you? Did you ever want me? Did you ever need me? You know full well what we had, and yet, you ignore it; you pretend it never happened. You know you led me on, convinced me of a “truth” embellished in lies and then broke me; shattered my heart into a million little pieces.

My heart was an ash heap after you left me. What was me, and what wasn’t me, I couldn’t tell.

You simply could not face me, knowing the pain you caused me, could you? Or was it fear?

You didn’t want to deal with my tears, while you tried to move on with your happiness and love, purposely ignorant of the damage you did. Is that why you so coldly shut me out? What did I do to hurt you? Tell me.

Tell me what I did, that I deserved for you to leave me the way you chose to, without even a goodbye?

Tell me; tell me what justifies your going behind my back while I couldn’t be there, meeting her, and then slowly leaving me within yourself?

I am no thief; rather, she is the thief who came and stole you from me.

Tell me what I did wrong. You have yet to give me an honest answer as to why you walked away, or why I couldn’t fight for you

as, clearly, she can.

You can’t stand up to the fact that you know what you did. That means you either still loved me, feared losing me, and couldn’t bear to see how you’d hurt me; or you really just never cared to begin with. Your love wavered and fell unintentional.

Who are you being dishonest with? Me? Yourself? Her? Whom? These stories don’t add up. You dealt me everything you were scared of being dealt (and everything you told me you’d never deal me).

Be honest with me, did you ever love me? Speak to me in truth. Do you actually love her? Give me an honest answer, why did you leave me? You can’t stand to see the humanity of me, can you? She is no better than I. May 27 10:37 p.m.

Letting Go (I’m Drawn to You)

How am I supposed to fall asleep when my mind is racing with the thought of you? No matter how many times I let you go (or think I’m getting over you), I’m drawn back to you. Why?

Why does my heart, mine own heart, treat me so unfairly? But I suppose I’ve always self-sabotaged.

You hurt me, why would I even want you after that?

I can’t let go of you. Have you tied me to yourself with invisible strings? No, but the love of our souls have, through whispers in the winds.

Why do I care so much about you and want you, even still, when you probably don’t even think about me, or choose to not care at all? when you wanted me? That is why I believed we were forever. Be careful; take care with the words which come from your mouth, and which spread deceit. Sugar coated lies roll off your tongue while your heart busies itself detaching from the effect.

You led me on, that is not my fault nor wrongdoing. What you had for me was lust, my love.

I was still fighting for you, long after I even realized you were gone. I wanted to give you every chance, but also, I wanted to take every chance I had. I wanted to love you, so, I fought for what I believed was mine. I can’t let go of a love I have decided to commit to forever. It hurts me that you wouldn’t fight for me the way I fought for you. I guess that’s the difference between intentional love and simply a burning desire.

If this has stemmed from your pain,

then I do not blame you for it. You need what you need and I suppose I wasn’t meant to give it at that time. This love isn’t what you were ready to accept yet.

Just so, I need what I need, and this has placed me on a path to find that life. Sometimes, the leaving of someone creates room for newness, growth and preparation for a later meeting, better chances, and a life truer to you. The stars see us my love, this ending does not mean we must end. Our love is not over, I feel the embers still burning. A wind will come and nurture this spark,

our love will live once again.

For now, I wish you all the luck and love in the world, but promise me one thing: You won’t forget me. We truthfully shared something special which can neither be discounted nor hidden.

The One Whom My Heart Loves

Life is a nightmare without you. I cannot sleep, I cannot wake, I cannot even eat. I’m scared of a life empty of your presence; I don’t want to be without you. I miss when you were familiar, I miss when I was yours; when you were mine. But now I can’t find you anywhere. I’ve lost you in this abyss, down some aisle I can’t find.

Want me again like you did so long ago.

I find myself desiring to talk to you once more; to say a simple “hi”, to tell you what’s been going on, or call you when I cannot sleep.

I don’t want anything but you. Nothing satisfies my soul’s great desires and ions quite like you do. The art it paints is only you, oh you masterpiece of the heavens. There is nothing I want more than I want you. I don’t need anything else in the whole world, if only I have you. You are more than enough for me, a lot more than even just “enough”; you are everything to me.

Don’t be gone from

my life. You are what my heart wants, you are whom my heart loves. I live for you and I would die for you; anything for you.

Without you, my heart is dying. I never could get enough of you, not even in a whole forever. Tell me we will love each other for a thousand forevers.

Where are you? Where did you go? I miss you. Come home. I know the stars will guide you back. May 30 2:09 a.m.

When You Were Mine

I have cried more streams of tears tonight than there were days on which we talked or times we said, “I love you”.

Why is my pain as great as my love? Because it rings the truth of it. It tears me apart in accordance.

I love the time that you were mine. I will cherish our moments forever. I’ve tucked your words away, I keep them in my heart and I smile when I them. I smile at the thoughts of you, but the tears always come.

I hate having to let you go another time,

on each instance that I you, on which instances, in each, I fall a little harder in love with you.

When will it stop? The oceans of my soul ache for you; they cry out for your love, for the depth of your waters. My heart waits for you, it loves only you. You are beautiful and perfect, more than you ever could know. And I wanted it all to be true; the whispers of home and peace and truth. I miss when you were mine, when I was yours, when we were home. I can’t sleep, Not without you.

But I wonder sometimes: Have you thought about me, the way I’ve been curious to know how you’ve been and what all the new goings on of your life are?

I still love you. ♥ 2:04 a.m.

Impossibility of You

All of my dreams disappeared upon the impossibility of being with you. Your words, which I kept by the way, seem far away and unreachable. They, themselves, are no longer tangible, they are no longer graspable. I want them, but I cannot have them… not anymore. I don’t like how far away it feels; how far I feel from you. I don’t like to be reminded of how my dreams have been crushed and taken away; rushed out of sight as though I’ve been blinded.

Is there any place, yet, where her lips haven’t brushed? Any place I could kiss you without the film of her touch? Where has she left bare that I could kiss only your skin? Do you still, deep in your heart, love me the most, even if secretly? In your heart of hearts, who is your love? Who is the one whom your heart loves? Who is your greatest desire? If it be not me, save me the pain and do not answer, let me dream.

I find myself waiting for you, because I really cannot love if it be not you whom I do.

I think my heart will end up waiting for you, quite possibly, forever. May 3:27 a.m.

War Between Intrigue and Purity (Innocent Love)

I wanted to love you with purity and I warred myself from within; between what was right and what we both wanted. You wanted me to love you the way I wanted to love you; with reckless abandon, with ion and not morality. The ways I desired to hold you and touch your heart were the same as what you ached for. I tried to love you the way I felt was best for you; purely and cleanly. I thought I was loving you better by loving you innocently. But playing God isn’t love, is it?

I wanted you,

but I wouldn’t let my hands touch you the way I desired, nor my fingertips trail along your skin as we both yearned for. I thought I was loving you, protecting you, in doing so. But I only hurt you and drove you away. Did you feel unwanted?

You read my patience as a lack of desire and ion and intrigue. But let me tell you, the intrigue of my heart and deep in my soul, for the oceans in you, is deeper than the depths of the universe

and weightier than all the stars. It burned inside me and seared me alive.

I’m sorry I tried to love you purer than our minds.

Your Name

Your name is the sweetest thing on my lips, but I never expected to be screaming it this way.

You left me brokenhearted and all I have left of you is your name which I say to myself at night. I yell it to the moon and tell it to the stars. They know all , I’ve recounted every memory. The pages of my journal are scrawled with letters which are written in tears

and sounded out like you and I together. Yet, no matter how often I get it out, your name always finds its way back into my mind, and onto my lips. I seem to be swimming in memories; I drown thick in them. They are everywhere, maybe because I’ve whispered them everywhere.

My heart has left a trail of you, wherever it’s gone. My words, the breath of my lungs, leave behind clouds of your name, written in the sky, hanging in the air.

I’m sure by now, with every breath anyone could ever take, they’d be breathing in your name, too. And now we are all filled with you. But I am the ocean which the river of your name runs from. A never ending, bottomless sea of the syllables which I call you by.

Your name, mixed with tears creates the most bitter tincture of gall, which I yet douse my heart with, coating it in more and more misery.

My remedy became my destructive addiction.

I say your name, calling for you. The sound of you and the river of my pain mix together and drop onto my chest, spearing my heart inside me. It hits like rocks upon my lungs, my breaths become labored. That heavy liquid of crystal grief slowly cuts me to pieces. You become the waters I drown in. And yet, you are so far away that you never even hear it. My face is buried in the pillow upon my bed, wishing it were your neck. And, too, my heart is not buried within your universe;

rather, it is buried, simply, alive.

Nightmares

This is a nightmare. It cannot be real. You haven’t left, have you? You haven’t stopped loving me. You haven’t given up on our love, have you? I cannot awake from this fearful hallucination.

Wake me up from this plight of supposed reality; let me awake in your arms. Please, please let me come home. I’ve had enough of my punishment. What was my crime?

Tell me where I fell short. What was the lesson?

Teach me so I make not the mistake again nor lose you in real life. …I haven’t, have I? I can’t have lost you. Please come home, my love. I live in a nightmare from which I can’t awake. No matter how much I pinch myself, shake my limbs, or wash my face, I seem to be stuck here, in this odd, bleak, unreal world. It is unreal, isn’t it? Every day I’m plagued by attacks of panic.

You are all that is on my mind. I can’t forget you and, really, the sad thing is, I don’t even want to. The thoughts of you perpetuate

and multiply within my head.

I can’t stop ing you and it disrupts my peace. But that is only because I love you, so, I let it. You’ve always been worth it to me. Even my memories of you are still parts of you, and I can’t let any piece of you go. June 13

Not Me

I gave you honest, real, and unconditional love. You took it, then spat in my face, turned around, and gave it to someone else. I guess it was simply my love that you loved, rather than I that you wanted.

I guess that’s why I wasn’t good enough for you; there was nothing I could have done. I guess that’s why I was so replaceable to you and so easy to leave. Because I was nothing significant to you at all.

One Day

Maybe one day I won’t be under your spell. Maybe one day I won’t wait for you even as I sleep, my love. Maybe one day I’ll finally stop missing you. Maybe one day I’ll be able to breathe easy again, feel again, trust again. One day, just maybe, my heart won’t be shattered in broken pieces.

Maybe one day I won’t cry myself to sleep at the thought of you with someone else. Maybe one day I will actually sleep— even before the fresh dawn mist

(which, if you’ve noticed, is the color of your eyes) settles in the grass.

Maybe one day I won’t still dream of you and I. Maybe one day, your face will blur from the vision I have of my future; and maybe, even, I’ll be able to picture someone else’s face there. Just maybe.

Maybe in a long while I’ll be free from the captivating thought of you. And, maybe one day, I’ll finally be able to say, “No, I don’t dream of her. No, she’s not on my mind. No, I don’t see her in my future, and yes,

I have healed from the pain of that incredible heartache, and even of the resentment I’d felt for her new lover. No, I don’t miss her.”

And I guess that will be the day that I can move on and finally love again— love someone other than you, that is— reclaim my sleep and peace and sanity, and pick up the pieces of my heart which you tossed on the floor (and which your lover walked over).

That will be the day I’m truly okay and not just healing “okay”.

I’ll be able to let go, one day, you just wait and see. Though, frankly,

I don’t want to let go; I want you to come back and hold me. I suppose that is why the day has not yet come when your name would leave my lips, and your face, my mind; and why it may never come.

Sometimes, I hopefully dream it will never have to, other days, I can’t wait till I can have my life and freedom back; when there is a day that I’m not still committed to one who walked away. But I fought myself to have you, because I wanted you, loved you, intended to marry and walk with you, forever.

P.S. I’m still bettering myself in all the ways I intended for our life and future together.

Dove’s Nest

For now, the dreams run on tap, the memories taint my water, and nostalgia stings me in the back.

The world within my mind at night is you. My mind always wanders to you and settles on the thought of us, like a dove in its nest. That is partially why I always was convinced we were forever— I believed it deep down that you are my home.

I was meant to love you. My heart will never leave you. I am tortured by the picturing of

you with someone else.

I am taunted with dreams of you and I; our future, which may never be. But I swear, my heart was made for loving you, my arms were formed to hold you near, my body was molded to fit yours close. My mind has prepared, all these years, to care for you and to understand you. I was ready to love you with intention and grace, strength and pureness. You are, …were, my whole future, and all of my life ahead of me; every one of my days would be consumed with loving you.

My heart was made for yours and I believe that wholeheartedly.

I’ll fight for this mess, to be honored with the blessing of walking through this life with you. To me, you are most special of all in any realm.

Cup of My Love

Tell me one thing, do you love her just in waiting for me? Did you stake claim on her, only because I could not be there? Is she really your “one”? Your forever? Because my heart says otherwise; my soul cries “no!” to the union of your hearts. I will forever speak so that I never must hold my peace. For it is you whom I love. Who else could ever love you so?

Was our love not beautiful? As beautiful as dusk returning at sunset; the kiss of the mountaintops and the sun?

The return of the cool nostalgic blue of the sky at six? Was it not as beautiful as golden hour on the open road, no other car in sight, country playing on the radio along with the melody of our laughter? Or as beautiful as the quiet, patient, starry night; the soundtrack, only the beat of two lovers’ hearts? Was not our love even deeper and more beautiful than even those kinds of wonder? Or was our love a lie with which I sang myself to sleep so that I might’ve rested in peace?

What was our love to you, that you would turn and mock it so? The quiet, truthful moments spoke volumes, my love; magnitudes that I could not ignore—

you loved me. I know you did, I know you do. This someone new might be good to you, yet, so was I good to you.

Maybe it was the distance which didn’t serve you. But what if one day I weren’t so far away? Would you love me again as you once did? Even for good? Or are you still afraid to drink of the deep cup of my love?

the nights you drank of that cup; you drank of it and became drunken. Forget not those quiet, beautiful moments of complete, truthful, entire, and faithful love.

Do not play with my love. It cannot, does not, fluctuate. Do not love me one day, telling me beautiful promises of love and then disappear the next, and question and condemn my wonder and confusion at it. You told me what I trusted to be truth. Or, I suppose, what I simply chose to believe was truth. Do not betray me. You did not love me for my reality, you chose to believe false rumors and lies about me, never stopping to seek out honesty. I suppose if you’d loved me, you would not have walked away without at least first hoping it was not true, and seeking what was. But you defining me for what I am not,

I cannot control.

If you loved me, you would have hoped for me; sought out the real story and fought for me. Yet it is only your responsibility for the way you see me. I suppose, if you’d known me, you wouldn’t have even believed the falsehoods in the first place.

They’ve pitted us against us! They wanted to see the ruin of our love, for their own benefit and gain. She wanted you for herself, and for me to be punished and reprimanded for imaginary offenses.

But I will not let our love fall. I will hold it ever-above me as a banner

I raise to the stars. The spirits will see that I will not relinquish. This is a battle of love.

Convincing Me

Why did you, the one who loved me— and said that you did, even convincing me— love me just to then deem me unlovable? Why would you prove to me that I was worth anything to you and claim to love me so wholly, when you’d leave so fast, so easy like that?

What was so insufficient about me? Where was I deficient that you would feel the need to give up on me? What about me was so unlovable, even detestable, that you’d leave with such gusto?

You filled me up just to empty me.

I don’t understand why you’d call me yours, why you could convince me of such everlasting and monogamous love and then, with the same mouth you promised me those promises of love, you could kiss someone else’s lips and break the bond you’d sewed in us. The bond you’d tied between us, you severed for the favor of someone you regarded better than me.

How is it that the one thing I chose to distrust in my gut was the one thing that was right? The only thing that was true?

“She’ll leave too. Someone else will be more desirable than you.” I needed heartbreak not to prove to me that there are better people out there. But, on the contrary, I’d hoped someone could believe in me.

Tell me, how am I supposed to believe any love without trusting it? I chose to trust you, which was no easy task; yet, I did. I took a gamble on our love, a gamble on the offer of your heart.

Tell me, how did my love fail you? Did it fail you even once?

I am human, my love, I cannot be perfect; I’ve made mistakes, but tell me: did I fail you, even once? Did I ever leave you needing or in want? Did I ever seek out another’s love? Did I ever give up on you or sever my promises to you and break what we had? Did I ever deny you the love you sought? Or neglect you?

I made no sacrifice of you, my love; rather, for you. And it was I, who was made a fool. I made a sacrifice of myself to the altar of your heart. I respected you even past the day you betrayed me. Even still, I hope for you.

Even still, I haven’t blocked the beacon of light which I stand here holding for you.

I am here. Even still, I have not tainted my lips with another’s love. And even still, my heart has not opened to another’s embrace, nor my body to another’s eyes. I have kept myself sanctified to you— pure to the rock which I sliced my own heart on, for you. You marked me as yours and here I am.

how I gave of myself to you. how you partook of the good love I offered and of which I gave freely.

it, and do not disregard me, do not forget me. Though I’m sure, by even now, you have.

Tell me, my perfect love, where did I fall short? Where did my love become tainted and impure? Point it out! I’ll give you a time chart and a red pen; mark it up with my faults, an extensive list of my wrongdoings. Don’t leave even one thing out, lest I be under-punished.

Pour out on me the wrath I deserve, pour it out like hot oil on my head.

If you find any fault in me (you must test my heart entirely), then let out your anger. Let your anger be honest and just. Do not hold back a lash for my sake, do not withhold a just rebuke. Find, in me, the dark wells which others have falsely spoken of, and accused me of in your supposed defense.

They create lies out of false honor. You will find me faultless; rather, it is they, who have lied to you, who deserve your wrath and neglect. With their lips they set traps for you and succeeded in robbing me of you. They took you to themselves, their vessel of captivation, their numerous lies and manipulation.

Do not leave my heart to be food for the crows. Do not let me be the feast of the jackals and vultures. Do not desert me, my love! I have not deserved your scorn, nor the scourge you’ve let others beat me with. Take back the unjust words and judgement! Repeal the sentence I do not owe. Come back into my arms; let me love you again, as I once did. Even better, my love will be: two-fold, and grow it will to ten-fold, hundred-fold, more! I am not perfect, nor could I ever be spotless, and I will never (can never)

claim to deserve you; yet, I have not earned this way which you’ve treated me. Tell me, honestly and truthfully, from your own mouth— in all purity; speak with all disclosures made: Tell me how I deserve what you’ve dealt me. Tell me, and I will retreat my plea and argument in respect. I will accept what I owe, the justice which is due you. I will pester you no longer when it’s proven that my heart deserves the pestle.

Yet, I know you’ve only known pain; I know you’ve been betrayed. How could you have trusted unknown territory?

You weren’t ready for quite a love, and your love is yours to give to whomever you wish. And I am blessed that you ever entrusted me with your heart for even a minute; I am blessed that you loved me with your love, for even the short time that you did. Such treasure is that to me, and worth it all.

My Love Is Yours

I sit here, your name scrawled upon all my love, yet I have nowhere to put it; nowhere to direct it, for you are no longer mine. I’m not allowed to want you. I’m not allowed to love you. But my love is for you only; to no one else can it go. It is going nowhere and must sit in my heart, untouched, building up like a great swell of water. This dam of humanity will hold it back till I breathe my last breath. But, let it be written on my grave: “Here lies one who forever loved the woman to whom her heart belonged— she and none else.”

My love will rest eternally with me, and there it will forever lay. On that day it is released, you’ll feel a giddy pump of your heart, that is all my love filling you, when it finally has the freedom to.

Fininity*

(Regret, Observations, & Humanity)

* The condition of being finite. We all experience fininity during our lives with every limit we encounter or every experience of being human or mortal.

Known

It’s crazy that, no matter how much you know someone, you can never truly know them. For you can only know them by what they tell you and what you see. And the truth of those can only be hoped. October 18 5:53 p.m.

Favorite Dream

It’s hard to move on from a life you lost, one you never had, but dreamed of. Your favorite one with all kinds of orange and yellow sunshine happiness. Memories, bright and beautiful, engrained beneath your eyelids, guiding all the rest of your life; your building blocks to something somehow even more beautiful. All which never had a chance of happening, or, which chance, you lost. November 25 4:00 a.m.

Plenty of Both

There’s plenty to regret in the past, but there’s also plenty to mend and make better in the future. December 11 11:41 p.m.

Afternote: Have hope. We are human and change comes with time. You will get better, my dear. Mistakes are allowed in this struggle of being human. Grace is a necessity for proper function.

Quietest Solace

In the quietest of moments, when it is only the soul which speaks, there, we find solace, wisdom, and true connection. February 07 7:49 p.m.

Mortal Clock

Our hearts keep our time like the clock, every beat counts another moment toward the final day. It pushes us forward with the tick of mortal time. Every moment comes and then es, like river water over its rockbed. You only get each moment once, so live today like it’s your last.

Give it your all, you never know when the clock ticks its last.

P.S. Always say “I love you”. February 11 10:03 a.m.

Good Heart

A good heart is sometimes such a burden. But, I think it is a burden that I wouldn’t trade for anything. So, let the tears fall, they’ll collect themselves later, while drying up another’s. For that is what the good heart seeks to do. February 9:00 p.m.

Innocence

I only seem innocent to the erby’s eye because I am quiet. But let me tell you, that is possibly exactly why I am not.

Thirsty

Do we crave water for its nourishment, or do we crave it for the way it cools our tongues?

Similarly, what do we seek from love? Lust and temporary pleasure will never satisfy the deep vaults of the human heart, which are kept hidden from most of the world. Genuine love nourishes, but lust is a fire that burns and leaves emptiness in its wake.

It’s Perspective

Their acceptance of my effort does not limit my value; rather, it simply reflects their world and how they define me when they see me through its lens.

It is relativity, not truth.

My value is truth and is absolute. Their view of me is their own definition, which does not change the truth. Just as a reader does not change a text’s meaning, only interprets how it resonates with them.

Alone

I always awake in a bed of tears. I’ve slept the worst that I have in years. Beneath my eyes, are pillars of salt, gracing my cheeks with bitter crystal gall. Only the moon sees the sorrow I carry. Only to the moon, have I told my deepest worry. My eyes are red when I turn my face up to the stars. My dreams lay in puddles at my feet. On my knees, I’m solemnly embraced by the night, under the quiet twinkle of starlight. My heavy head rests in my feeble arms, and

with none else to hold me, I am alone. August 4 7:45 a.m.

Wake and Whisper

I sit in the wake of times gone by, the whisper of moments which once were surprise. And I call to the dusk on whose wings time’s flown, and to the dawn of tomorrow which will bring ’t once more. Once spoken, now a whisper; naught is now, what’s once before. All is gone that was then and now I stand in front of time. We leave a wake. A wake, a ripple, a quiet sea water. Yes, though once it was there, and so were we, now it all is not. No more the wake sparkles on the quiet sea waters,

and it re us no more. Our laughs shared and stories told lie only in those days of old. Looking back, I see a different time; a simpler one which’d change on a dime. And now that it’s a whisper, I look ahead to the new past, the not yet past, and dream of new wakes not yet come; but which will also fade and be, one day, only a memory— a distant ringing in the air and the heavens. The future past will soon only be a wake and a whisper, too.

November 1:44 p.m.

My Application to Time

If regret were a profession, I would be its greatest professor, for I know it all too well. I’m seasoned in its painful name; the most permanent of all griefs. For, even with the ing of a loved one, I will see them again, but with the ing of a moment, it’s never gotten back. (Perhaps that is even why the ing of a loved one is so hard. Presence is never gotten back.) Regret is a horrible mistress, to live with her is to not live at all. It comes in waves, the grieving of a moment, a time you can’t get back.

It comes in gigantic sweeping waves which have nothing better to do. Breathe while you can, for grief makes it impossible to even want to, and those waters are deep. Your lungs will fill with distress, your heart will pump tears, your body gives out, no matter your years. If I could say one thing to this “Time”, whom regret has so faithfully served, I would say, “Why must you be so stubborn and unapproachable? Why must you be just another thing I lose?” For, Time, you are cruel. It is bad enough that you are so immovable, but yet, you recruited regret, who is much worse than even you! I’m not sure what I even can do. You weigh on my shoulders much heavier than this whole world.

There is such a pain naught as yours.

You’ve taken my life from me, Regret, O’ mistress of Time. You’ve left me as an empty shell; I’m fully dead inside. The light’s gone out, no one’s home, I moved out of my own abode, for sadness and grief seemed to be the air I breathed.

Oh, kill me now! You kindest of man, kill me so I may rest. I’ll sleep in much peace with no more sorrow, for I can live with Regret not another tomorrow.

Regret! Regret!

The eternal sting. I cry, I scream to no avail. Gone has it left, to no corner of the earth! Vanished from existence, that moment I miss. You kill me, O’ Regret, you painful bastard, you drown me alive. My soul seems to feel like a small, gaunt ghost who’s just visited hell. But oh, those flames of hell don’t lick me quite like you! They burn me, but you sear me. The scar will never heal. People look me in the eyes and ask me why I’ve died (inside, that is) and all I can say is, “Regret stole my life, Pain shot my heart,

and Time buried me alive.” They turn and nod and walk away, for none of them, I’m sure, understand this torture quite like I do.

So, Time, if you’re looking for a qualified professor, you’ll see I’ve studied more than my due and I’ve had more experience than I ought to. But, if you accept this application, will you allow me to slip past? I’ll only be gone a few years, it’ll be nothing to you. November 7:06 a.m.

Sometimes

Sometimes, I just forget, and it seems as though life stops for a while. I’m stuck in a snow globe outside of the real world and I just stop ing. Simple things slip out, as if there’s holes in the pocket of my mind. I can’t help it, but sometimes it happens. I don’t how to feel or what to think or how to be. The words and life stop coming, my years just leave me. I’m an empty can with a face which seems full. My life becomes a mirage which I can’t control.

My brain stops making sense of anything at all. Life becomes perpetual confusion and emptiness; a grey screen, like on a cloudy day. My mind just needs a break sometimes, and maybe that’s its way of saying so. Maybe no sense will ever be made of it, maybe the silence will never be hushed. But I know that it is in these moments, wherein I discover my strength, realize how far I’ve come, and learn that sometimes, just breathing is enough. February 05 4:47 p.m.

Marathon to Nowhere

It’s always going to be a circle, isn’t it? Between pain and doubt, feeling worthless then hopeful, back to numb and then feeling again? The cycle never ends.

My mind is constantly chasing its own tail! Regret and then acceptance, but back again the next day; trying to keep faith and believe that this isn’t the end and there’s better, right? It’s always going to be crying nights and silent mornings, despaired afternoons and agonizing midnights. Waking up without a sense of meaning or purpose,

feeling useless and stupid to the core. It’s always going to be a marathon that leads nowhere.

My mind is running from itself, and so is my heart; it runs from me. It busies itself with regret and self judgement, building high walls and saying, “Never again!” It seems as though I’ll never know how I’ll feel tomorrow; yet, I hope for functionality. It goes between this and that; yea then nay, different every day, every hour, every minute and second. Relentlessly questioning and dissecting; doubting everything.

Peace cannot be found. No wellness of self. Self-esteem buried with the worms.

Why is life such an agonizing cycle? Why does it hound me perpetually? I live in constant lethargy. I’ve cried so many floods of tears that I’m not sure I even have the reserves of water left in my body to cry any longer. Emotion and expression escape me; feeling and stability are impossible or non-existent. Sometimes, I ask my mind, “Why not only despair, or solely be at peace and keep hope? Keep it simple so I know what to expect!” This bumpy ride between every single emotion under the sun

jumbles and tosses me this way and that. My brain is quite the scrambled egg. It is far too much for me! I can’t keep a clear head about me; I can’t even express it. There’s too many chances I’ve lost a shot at. It is the end of me; it brings me to my knees and I grasp my hair as my body twists in internal agony and revolt. I cannot explain it, my darlings, I’ll drive myself insane trying to. But, if you’ve lost someone whom you love, maybe you understand. If you’ve been wronged unjustly and left as scraps, alone, maybe you would know.

Sympathize with me and we’ll cry at the moon tonight, together. All of us, like a band of broken, hurting, contrite souls. We are our tribe. We have us, and we’re all out there somewhere. Never forget that you are enough. Even through all the ups and downs. May 31 4:44 p.m.

Garden of Glass

She is a growing flower garden with a little broken glass. And that just makes her even more beautiful; that just makes her shine more. —The Universe Inside Her, a series of poems December 28, 2:52 a.m.

O. W. S. Poetry

Illustrator: Jeanne_lolness

“Come with every wound and every woman you’ve ever loved; every lie you’ve ever told and whatever it is that keeps you up at night. Every mouth you’ve punched in, all the blood you’ve ever tasted. Come with every enemy you’ve ever made and all the family you’ve ever buried and every dirty thing you’ve ever done; every drink that’s burnt your throat and every morning you’ve woken with nothing and no one. Come with all your loss, your regrets, sins, memories, black outs, secrets. I’ve never seen anything more beautiful than you.”

Warsan Shire

Afterword

Interesting Facts about The Universe Inside Her: A Series of Poems and Letters”:

It was when I wrote “Garden of Glass” that I created the series title The Universe Inside Her. It was the official debuting of the series.

Originally a stalk of Salvia was placed with the rose on the front cover. It was going to be a bouquet of a rose, a stalk of Salvia, a magnolia flower, and a poppy. The combination would signify strength, endurance, independence, pain, hope, love, devotion, freedom, and beauty in brokenness; but I loved the simplicity of the rose. Salvia is also commonly known as White Sage and can be a natural remedy for depression.

“Cigarettes” and “Ex-High” were originally part of the same poem. They were a concept I had in my mind long before they were written down. The original version was lost, but these two were then separately birthed from that single word picture idea.

Another tidbit about “Ex-High”, the story ends up being written from the perspective of an old blunt in the ashtray, because all these things I imagined experiencing with the person I loved, they ended up sharing with someone else, in place of me. So I take the position of the blunt in the ashtray, as that’s the closest I’ll ever get.

The author pen name OtherWorld Soul Poetry stemmed from the poem

“Otherworld Souls”. I liked the name and dubbed it my writing name which I would place my series under.

This collection of poems has formulated over several years and encapsulates the emotions I went through during different times. However, this book is only a collection of some of my best and favorite works.

I originally kept each entry in order in this manuscript, and only separated them into segments when some of my reviewers told me, “It’s a rollercoaster of emotions, and with each page you’re hit with a different one”, so I chose four categories and separated them accordingly. Within each segment, they are all still semi-in-order, only then separated by short-form and long-form poetry.

Why do only a few of these poems have a timestamp after them? Timestamps were included for important times, dates or special poems. In my journal, every entry has a date and time stamp, except for “Good Heart” and “The Day” which each have the minute they were written, but neither the day nor month.

For the time-stamped poems, I included only the month and time so that the focus would be on seasons of life and not years or age. Anyone can go through any season, no matter how old they are. So interpret these poems through the seasons in your life which resonate with them.

Many of these poems are abridged versions of their originals. In addition, a few were originally written addressing a “he”, when indeed, they were written for a “she”. These corrections were reflected in this published manuscript.

The author has chosen to remain unknown for the sole purpose that these poems

truly read like a diary, and also to protect the privacy of those whom the poems were written about.

I hope you enjoyed reading :) Thank you for ing my work and feeling my words. Sending love your way, always. Love, Otherworld Soul Poetry

Don’t forget to connect on Instagram: @otherworldsoulpoetry or email me about your favorite pieces! [email protected]

About the Author

The author was born in California, practically with a pen in hand. Her love for poetry was driven by the relief she found in the Psalms’ saving comfort and grace throughout her life. She now lives in southern country, enjoys sipping tea, doing a little sewing, and writing short stories, poetry, and spiritual self-help bits in her free time. You can often find her stopping for a daisy, staring at the clouds when the sky turns soft blue, whispering to the moon, or strolling through Hobby Lobby. Word pictures are her very favorite, and, if she could, she would choose to speak entirely in metaphorical language. The author chose to remain anonymous for the sole purpose that her works read straight from the emotional pages of her journals, and she wishes to respect the privacy of those written about, as well as herself.