When Worlds Collide They Do So Violently.

Colors under my skin

There's violet and lavender and lilac.

Like deep bruising, like sleepless night, like cold anemic skin.

It hurts somewhere between the cold defeat of blue and the hot anger of red.

But it's comforting too, like acceptance; acknowledgment; the first step to getting better.

And there's yellows too

Marigold and dandelion and polished bronze.

It's like warm sunshine, like soft flower petals, like sturdy statues.

It's encouraging; hotter and more pure than red but never as close as the color of life.

But it's intimidating too; like the mythical idea of being okay.

If you hurt over every little thing, all you'll ever do is hurt

I have always been small. I have always been little and quiet and unseen. I have always done what I'm supposed to do. I have always been smart and i have always been kind. I have always obeyed.

And where has that brought me? Past the edge of childhood and into an adult's life. But I only know how to speak when spoken to, and to do what I'm told. I have never made a decision for myself that hasn't failed spectacularly.

I cannot work and I cannot drive. Anything else i may do is too expensive. So I do nothing.

All my life I've done nothing; to reduce my burden on my parents. But now I am a burden because I do nothing.

They told us to aim for the stars, that even our failures would be rich.

They didn't tell us that in exchange our victories would feel cheap and lifeless.

I have to fail to feel.

Hurt like you

There's something about sea salt and brine and the way it sits behind your eyes.

Bright and blue and full of sorrow.

I know they only romanticize your pain; as if it's some great achievement.

They say they want to hurt like you, not out of ignorance.

Only because they don't want to hurt the way they already do.

The salt it stings and the foam dyes you blue.

But for them it's soft and soothes their burned to hurt the way you do.

It took me a long time after you were gone to realize everything I was gonna get from you I had already gotten.

I know it's selfish but all I want is more of you.

Everyday I get older and I understand the world a little better. And yet I never have any more control over it. Any more effect on it.

I am only biding my time. Getting older. Understanding more.

Eventually, I'll have to do something about it.

I was told I needed to learn to sit with my grief. to hold its hand and mother it. to allow it to exist within me.

But I don't think I can mother anything, not even myself. I sit beside my grief, hand in hand. We're staring at each other. both wondering why we're here.

I am not a beggar

I do not cry from my hunger

I bare down on an empty mouth with gritted teeth

I let holes burn in my stomach before I allow myself to eat

Consumption is a sin

To want is to waste

Like the monks before me, I know I can wait

I eat my sins

I gag from the taste

The more there is

The less I take

Because I know how much it costs

And I cannot pay

I fell headfirst into your eyes. Walking deep into your soul. Forgetting where I'd been before.

    Now i’m so lost in you I don’t know if I’ll be able to find my way out.

    Clawing at your seams, desperate for freedom.

Trapped am I in the lilt of your voice; the tilt of your head. The sad way you look at me. 

    I’m not sure if I’ll ever be rid of you; or if I even could