Inconsistency

It comes in bursts,
like the rising and falling
of a fickle storm
with no end or
destination,
and like a storm
It is wet and violent,
treacherous to
those nearby
and beautiful to those
who watch from
their windows,
blissful and far removed.
Sometimes I seek comfort
in the storm;
in the rage, the tears,
the spiraling thoughts
and emptiness I do not
wish to feel, yet
it is all I have ever
felt. And we all
cling to the familiar.

Scattered

Scattered
As if every thought
Every stream of consciousness
Is to no avail
And I know not who I am
I have only ever learned
To examine myself in pieces
Lost fragments of time and space
That do not quite match up anymore
But my puzzle is beyond scattered
So far lost and broken
That to start anew
Would be much more sensible
Than to search for myself
In the nooks and crannies
Of this mundane world
Straining to see
The distant pops of color
That might still be lingering
Somewhere within
The soiled depths of my mind

This is not about you

This is not about you.
This is not about about all those times you made me feel worthless and pathetic or how you spat my own name in my face like a curse.
This is not about how your betrayal ripped a giant gaping hole in my heart that I have not yet even begun to patch up. I can only keep ripping off the bandaid to remind myself of what it feels like to hurt.
And this is not about how your name will forever feel like acid on my tongue, burning the back of my throat as I try to smother the urge to scream it out into the night.

This is not about you.
This is about me.
This is about all the hurt and torment I have endured as I passively watched you set me on fire. This is about my struggle to love myself to fill the hole that you made, as you left me to fend for myself like a lonely and wounded animal.
This about how I will rise high above the flames and spread my hatred like wildfire, so that maybe one day, it might reach you.
This is about how I hope neither heaven nor hell will take you, for you would surely be a disappointment to both.

So, no. This is not about you.
This is about me,
like it always has been.

A Letter To My Love

I love you.
I don’t know how else to phrase it.
Just the thought of you brings the biggest grin to my lips
I want you to be successful and happy and mentally stable and never have any significant worries or fears
I want you to have everything you have ever wanted even if what you want may seem unattainable at times
I want you to feel safe and loved and I want you to be able to trust, no matter how frightening and intimate it can be
But most of all, I want you to know that you are loved
Not just by me but by so many others
Because you matter
You are important
You are you
And that is more than enough.

Worth It

Sometimes caring can be dangerous

A treacherous minefield full of broken hearts

That never seems to have an escape route

 

A gut-wrenching calamity of an inner struggle

That consumes your entire being

Until you are engulfed in agony

 

But perhaps it is better to hurt than to feel nothing at all

Perhaps  it is only beneficial to take great risks and gamble with your heart

In order to find the one thing that everyone spends their whole lives searching for:

Love.