I struggled in your absence

You flourished in yours

What was left to me, was the end of my rope

And so I tied a knot and held on

The thread cut into me

The blood ran down my extended arms

There was nothing beautiful about the crimson painting me

The beauty found was in my resistance

A voice spoke to me, “don’t you dare give up”

A voice that mirrored my own

And soon my feet touched solid ground again

Was it only a lesson to be learned?

What I found,

Was you came back, but I no longer need you

I wish I had a needle sharp enough to burst through this empty shell I want to get out of my own skin Can you really say you love me? I’m not someone to respect Tired and lazy I want to wake up but I can’t sleep It’s only closing my eyes Maybe living in a nightmare is still living the dream

Another appointment. A second opinion. Yet it all keeps coming back the same. They say I’m healthy, I’m still young. Just pushing 30 years old, “you’re still in your prime!”

But how is this my prime? When I feel the lowest I’ve ever been. When dark of night is stretched thin into the glow of twilight, another restless night. When my appetite shrinks into nothing. My focus, now dull. I’ve grown despondent. My joy exists only behind me, as every day is a struggle between where I am and where I want to be.

They suggest pills, “these SSRIs will fix you up after a few weeks once the correct levels are in your system.”

But I don’t want that. I want to be better. I want to be proud of who I am again. I spent far too much of my life trying to avoid being hurt, and it only lead to that very outcome.

I want to feel like myself again.

Back then, things weren’t too strange between us strangers. We were grifters. Traveling one town to another in search for work. Gold mines, farmhands. Hell, even the role of barhand. But what we were really looking for wasn’t work. It was trouble. Any time those saloon doors swung open was like the tumbling of a slot machine you’d find on one of them fancy river boats out east. Always hoping it was gonna be a jackpot, hoping it was someone with fat pockets walking in. Maybe rich from oil. “Black gold” is what they’d call it.

Those doors swung open, the slots start turning, and sure enough he came walking in. The son of man who’s father struck oil. Walking on in reeking of whiskey and cigars, belligerent– but armed. Shooting him dead and taking his money would be easier than shooting fish in a barrel. But he knew that, too. Slamming a fist full of coins on the bar top demanding an entire bottle of whiskey, ah, but he must have noticed the look in my eye. The next words he uttered were plain and simple as he fixed his hand upon his six-shooter, “go ahead… Take your shot, stranger. You’ll only get one.”

Not yet But we have both been waiting so long We laid beneath the stars in the sky Burning strong With an intensity which envied the sun And so the sun came up and told the stars they had shined enough on this night Yet, one star remained to shine until the twilight shone way into dawn “Not yet,” said this final star.

Streaks of fire are falling from the sky Sirens wail in the distance Our car is alone on this highway Pulled to the shoulder of the road My hand placed upon yours The sights of war we shall endure

I am a beauty to be seen. Shimmering, shining. Churning, restless. I am a slave to the phases of the moon. Within consists countless monsters of the deep; leviathans, and gentle giants, too.

What I take, I will never give back. And what life I give, I will always take back.

I exist in seven bodies. I am every shade of green and blue. Under the night sky we meet at the horizon line and blur together as one. A solid black backdrop to keep you locked to land.

Yet, people travel far and wide to see me. They dip their toes in and submerge their bodies within mine. None the wiser of the horrors and tragedy I commit with every passing day.

The bathroom mirror tends to fog, and when it does I can see the faint impression of sweet-nothings your finger carved through the mist.

When I find myself in a crowded place I can’t help but to scan over everyone to find your face.

Even when it comes to ordering a coffee, I order it just the way you liked it. I am desperate for what your lips once tasted.

Should I hear your first name out of the mouth of a stranger my heart would skip a beat. I would find it even stranger if they specified the use of the letter “K” instead of a “C”.

Missing you has lead me here. To have chased a ghost, only to not even have found a shadow.

It’s a shame when you think of it like this

When water rounds off rocks and wind carves through canyons

We are two forces working against one another

If I stand to keep my feet planted where we are then you will take away pieces of who I am

But, it’s been awfully nice being with you in the light of the moon, bearing the stars in our eyes with the scars on our hearts

I recognized his eyes as soon as he walked through the door. I froze. I couldn’t do this right now. Our gazes locked on one another as my line of sight trailed downwards to his dirty brown boots. The weight of his gait cracking the floor boards. I could feel my heart caught in my throat, then plummeting down to the ground. Ripe and ready to be crushed beneath his feet.

The smell of cheap wine and cigarettes began to permeate the surrounding air as he pulled a bar stool next to me. He let out a long sigh as he plopped himself in the chair. One leg crossed over the other. Adjusting the taped frames of his glasses, clearing his throat. Then finally his words pierced through the air like a jet through the sound barrier, “my, oh my… Look at how the years have changed us both.”