my body isn't perfect
that's true for everyone
but i can't fit the social liking
my hair
not straight
not blonde
not long
strike one
my stomach
too big
the same for my thighs and arms and calves and cheeks
strike two
my face
no blue or green eyes
no pale skin
no flawless features
i'm not the perfect sister
or daughter
or friend
i'm not the best looking
or sounding
or thinking
i'm a failure
yes that is true
a name i'll wear proudly
because i was the first to call myself it
i'm not the best at remembering
or planning
or doing
i'm not the most talented at cooking
dancing
singing
i'm sorry
we are not excepting anyone anytime soon
hopefully never again
in regards to your wishes
we hope you'll be fine
we hope you won't do it
we hope we don't have to see you here
in regards to your wishes
don't blow out every candle in one breath
don't look up at the first star of the night
in regards of your wishes please don't die
this is a note sent to you
to your wishes
you wishes of death
peace
ending
I am, just what I told you
and not. Where it went,
I don't know. Where did it go,
the Sympathy? It's not mine,
or not now.
The weight is. The
weight came
fast. Faster than the wait
left, or tried to. Not all
at once. It hopped in
and out like the sparrows
who visit, interchangeably,
inconsistently, wanting
but not daring,
then gone.
It's become unbecoming,
this becoming
becoming less.
Into each life... no,
into (and after) each rain,
a little life.
Must the flies come?
They've come, falling
back into stories no one
needed to tell. The crawls of
unwelcome spiders
follow, and more
unbecoming.
lonesome doesn't move, it clings
to time-tapered tree limbs,
to grey
sidewalks refreshed with a white snow,
and to the blood red brick walls overlooking them,
but not overlooking what went
past, no, not overlooking what passed as a life,
a life that went speeding past them,
with no quiet moments to take a breath
or to sit within them;
the past didn't go
the way she wanted it, the way
we'll see it, not the way
the blood red brick walls wanted to feel it,
but the bricks hold it, with tree limbs,
with walks, and they hold her,
It's easier to admit to
a higher power, when you're higher
than the clouds. Something does it,
easily throwing a bulls eye of light
against their white caps below. My eyes
don't dart to it, they settle softly
into its faded blue center. Who
questions it, what you can't
know? I knew the snow of his hair
that's now ash. I knew it, but I can't
know the why, or the how of its
sudden change. Or the when I'll follow.
Sometimes you just need an ear
Someone to hear
What you are growing inside
Of course, there are family and friends
But sometimes you don't want to be judged
Neither to be advised
Nor to be given solutions.
Just to be heard with empathy
See that you're not disturbing
See that you are someway somehow understood
That quality time made of listening
You are craving for...
But what is the matter?
You keep asking yourself.
You may not have any reason to feel empty
You may not have any reason to feel lost
If a thought is a whisper what is a cry
A thought is how I get myself by
I think it will be over
I think it will be done
How can I keep going without any fun
A cry
A cry is when you try
I try and try to cry but can't
I don't know why
Why: I don't want to cry
I want to try
Try to change
Change the lies
Sometimes you do everything make them happy,
In return they just say "you are disgusting"
At 2am I want to sit on the terrace ,
And watch the falling rain,
I want to call your name,
And mollify that flame,
Cry my heart out for the people,
I couldn't make proud,
I want to tell you about ,
My achievements and regrets,
About all the lovers and haters,
All the builders and the breakers,
I want to feel you until the relief,
So that for few minutes,
I could get rid of this grief.
I want to live,
But I know I'll have to die once again,
And this time I'm not ready for that pain,
Still processing my last wounds,
Healing them with pacifying sounds,
Looking at the sky and nature's weapons,
Waiting for a miracle to happen.