my favorite constellation of them all

it’s the song i can’t stop singing
it’s the tune always unfailing
it’s the bittersweet goodbyes
of things not yet given up
it’s the happy parts of slowly-fading scars
the parts of not-yet-laden hearts
that have against all odds – not yet given up

it’s the stars that brightly shine
contrasted beauty so divine
they are never quite as pretty
without the sky to back them up
its the saddening parts of slowly healing hearts
talk of bitter, the scars scabbed over

(into a marred constellation
traced against the night’s backdrop)

it’s the depth of your eyes and smile
too honest to think of guile
no one even comes close
to the way you are a sun(flower)
it’s the maddening love
an occupational hazard—

if i am the stars
then, oh, you are my night sky, darling
part of the art, part of my heart
and not only just a backdrop

“saranghae; jal-ja.”

truth is? i love you a lot
i love you too much to watch you rot
little drastic-sounding? is that what you think?
what you think, what you think — it doesn’t matter what I think
what i think, is that you should leave me alone
before my hurt becomes yours

truth is? i hate you sometimes

(…truth is? i can’t think of a solid reason to hate you.)

truth is? your care is sickening
but your affection is quickening, blood goes steady to thickening
at your love, at your leave
ah yes, and that is the entire reason we are here.

truth is? i feel weak thinking
of a life devoid of you, totally lacking
in your specific way of cracking open the packaging
in this cursed little lock-box of mine.

truth is? my heart is so full
and nothing can dull the inescapable
relationships are hard when you give them your all
(and your all is always all you give)

truth is? i try so hard not to care
whether you go or you dare
to make us some sort of pair
of dysfunctional minds coincide here

truth is? i care more than you’ll ever know
promises will be the death of me, but
at least they give me a reason to talk to you
(once in a while)

sometimes
prying the box open, carving out its insides
cutting its contents open until they bleed out
and eventually wither away
carefully gathering all the ash, and making it special again
in the way only you can do
sometimes, this is all you can do
sometimes, this is all you need to do
the care you take is disgusting in its quantity
but i can never actually begrudge it

truth is? i love you in a way
that dies just a little whenever you walk away
little drastic-sounding? is that what you think?
well, let me tell you what i think

i think that you should stay
i think that you should stay
i think that you should stay

but what i think most, is that you should leave me alone
before my hurt becomes yours

the first and the last.

i am not the first
to wish that you were here enjoying life (preferably, with me)
to treasure your smile like it’s the most precious thing i’ve ever seen
and how if your eyes fail to smile, too, something is terribly wrong
to imagine an alternate life where you and i
existed together in more ways than one

i am sorry.
i suppose that you do not understand that i do not wish
to taste your unchapped lips
to touch every part of you
to live in an alternate life where you and i
were intimate together in more ways than one

you are lovable in more ways than one
but i may be the first to say
that i
i only wish to witness your smile
unadulterated
i only crave the safe reassurance
that you so freely exude
is it wrong, though
to want you to hold me like nothing is terribly wrong
every once in a blue moon, only if you feel like it

i am not the first to crave
your touch, your gaze
but if only you would treat me as if
i were the furthest thing from invisible
may i be the first to say
“i would be content.”

an open letter to my own.

Dear little mama, I wish you could comprehend how much I want only joy for you. I wish you understood that it hurts me, or us, or them, to watch you cry. There’s a time for everything, but the ratio for those things doesn’t have to be equal, does it? Dear little mama, I hope you know that you’re not the only one hurting. Maybe that will only hurt you even more, to know that other ache with your sorrow, but please learn to take comfort in the fact that you are not alone. Those who notice your habits are only going to attempt to help you (however misguided their attempts may end).

The way you smile through puffy eyes and furrow your expression just enough for me to catch onto your thoughts? These don’t slide past. You think about her, and when I’m paying attention, I can tell. You hang on to every little snippet of her life, like a lifeline. Little mama, you think about her, and the pain that manifests on your face is unlike anything else. That is the worst of the pain you bear currently, I think – the loss of a child.

Dear little mama, do you think we do not notice the little, subtle stress lines that crease your forehead whenever you talk about your marriage? do you think we ignore the slightly-too-loud laughs of Currently Socializing mode, and the slightly-too-quiet sobs of Broken mode? You’re heard by the people who don’t matter, who can’t make a difference – now to speak up to those who can.

Dear little mama, you’ve lost your father, but not your Father.

You’re probably thinking about how I should never shoulder any of this, never feel like I need to worry about you. You’re probably considering all the ways that you can reassure me that you’re fine, that you’re healing. You’re probably thinking about the fact that maybe this worry was your fault.

thanatophobia (sort of)

Shaken up, yeah that’s pretty apt
I’m failing at attempting to adapt
Mindsets are hard, but you know what’s harder?
Having reactions to your death completely mapped
Am I lying, or do you finally see
that my thought processes will be the death of me?
please believe me, I don’t mean to be a pessimist
but isn’t preparation the whole key to the this?
This is me trying feebly to be prepared
To be the one unhurt, not the one who cared
Instinct is always hard to fight
But I can’t allow myself to be the one who dared
To love, to live
To only ever give
To expose myself wholeheartedly
To vulnerability
To ever ever be the one
Who left no good deed undone
Because I am so incredibly afraid
of being the one who waited
instead of giving their all.

Shaken up? Yeah, that’s pretty spot on,
but isn’t it better than mourning the long-gone?

you’re a barnacle-covered hunk of metal (surprise!)

there is a poetry in the risk of bending reality to fit your overall mood; there is a reckless rhyme to the fact that you do not and shall not gift a second thought to your own abandon.

there is a certain meter, specific rules, and you feel no other desire toward them except a craving to break every single one.

longing sickens you, because there is nothing – nothing – you would rather do than break free

from yourself.

your tongue aches to twist words into braided structure / your head pounds with the puzzle of peaceful chaos / your heart beats exponentially faster because you are alive but removed from yourself

sails are necessary to a ship; this is widely-known fact. reckless apathy is your sail, so that when the time comes, there will be no mourning. there will be no weakness in sensitivity, because apathetic calm is optimal, is it not?

release yourself. remove yourself. wreck yourself.

these steps have never tempted you more than here.and.now.

it is only the affirmation that others think about you, sometimes, that pulls you back. the alleged care is too much to process, but maybe you let yourself think in your rare weak moments that someone you care about, reciprocates.

so you attempt to forget. you suppress and repress until you can remember things, but nothing you used to consider inconsequential.

you quickly realize that forgetting the details was the worst choice for you, in this cursed state. in forgetting them, you sever any remainder of any anchor you’ve ever known–

because what is your anchor, if not them?

in forgetting them, you’ve freed yourself

in freedom, you’ve lost yourself

(who knew that anchors were the most important component to a ship?)

“maybe you don’t determine your own worth, after all.”

these are the days that I wonder –
why can’t you see how much I am not?

why don’t you see all the insuffiencies of mine?
it’s been a long time now since I crossed the line
the border between ‘to vent’ and ‘to whine’
and not for the best.

why don’t you see that I can’t unsee
all the flaws that make up me?
‘worthless’ is me summed up logically
and not for the best.

plate of anxiety, coming right up
with a side of burden-in-a-cup
sip of sensitive and impatient sup
it isn’t the best.

and all these descriptions sit precariously
are they accurate or just self-pity?
I fear I’ll never know which they be
that’s not for the best.

so you listen, you listen! with barely a comment
listen to the rambling of the broken-but-not-bent
the girl who’s compassionate but not content
she’s not at her best.

so you listen!
you listen.

precious, loved, and worthwhile
honest compliments you heap in a pile
overwhelm her, consume her, with your while
one of the things that you do best.

choices are what is key here
make a choice, avoid a tear
but still worry about who is dear

love and love and love and more
care is what makes up your core
out and out and out you pour
some of the things that you do best.

these are the days that you wonder –
why can’t I see how much I am?

to her, with love.

friendship is such a mild term now. it connotes flowers and matching bracelets and dancing in heavy summer downpours. this could be called the amended version of that, the version that no one else maybe including us could ever hope to comprehend.

i dread the times when you are gone. now, i do not mean the times when you are not physically with me. even when you are not present, i see you in a hand gesture, or a favorite ice cream flavor, or the girl down the street that reacts to tickles similarly to you. i see you in what the stars could be, gazed upon from a place where nothing stains the atmosphere except thousands of little twinkling lights. united we stand, divided we fall. nothing has been more true.

no, i mean the times when you are not present and accounted for. i mean the times that nothing around me gives the slightest hint that you exist. i mean the times when everythingeverythingeverything is unfamiliar and uncomfortable and untried and unbeloved. those times when i sit by myself in the far corner of my room and cry for the times that i have taken you for granted.

it’s so incredibly easy to watch a ‘now’ become ‘then’.

and i do not mind telling you that that scares me to death. because i cannot imagine life without you anymore and what are we without life? that thing that you call sad, that thing that i call beautiful. that thing that the majority of the world tries to prevent. it is inevitable, but there are so many better ways of going about things than stripping you from me. as i need my brain to function, so do i need you.

i hope to dear heaven you know that.

to the active ones, once again.

[a/n: i’m so proud of you all.]

it’s those times that you’re forced to pull something out
a lack of fear, mistrust, confidence, a lack of doubt
everything crucial depends on this moment
but no, you aren’t allowed to fear blowing it
validation was never the name of the game
humility, courage, built in the one and the same
YOU.

giving up was never an option.

are you listening?
do you hear me yet?
nothing can stop you, but everything can try
it’s not your job to ask who or why
nothing can stop you, but everything you can defeat
every single foe you’ll beat
let yourself try, let yourself try
to not wind up sad because you stopped with a sigh
nothing can stop you and nothing will
doubts and fears are what you can always kill
just remember, just as life
death must be earned
death isn’t enough, though
as strong as you yearn
nothing can stop you but everything can try
but work toward your dreams and you will soar high.

giving up is never an option.

painting emotions red.

[a/n: i hurt.]

everyone is waiting
and watching
for times long gone to be erased
and nothing feels the same

everything is in denial
a sad and dreary place
trying desperately to focus
on
something
please give me something to take away the pain

and I want to scream, let my heart out!
but I’m not that trusting
paint my sorrow
from one end of the room to the other
scream, let it take over me
cry to keep from rusting
and let the ache wash over me
and I’ll miss you, I’ll miss you
Lord in Heaven knows that I’ll miss you
don’t let us go, don’t let us go
and thus make our fears come true
I CAN’T SAY THAT YOU DON’T KNOW OUR PAIN
BUT PLEASE DON’T PUT US THROUGH “remember when?”
WE’RE TAKING THIS TOO HARD I KNOW
BUT OUR GRIEF OUR STRIFE OUR WOE
IS NOT EXAGGERATED
just know we’ll always love you.