In Missing You

It’s almost one am,
a quarter past nostalgia
and I miss you.

Like I never have before.
Before it was always chaotic and violent,
bordering on insanity.

My nerves on the edge of tingling
and my heart restless and yearning
theatrical at my best, and melo-dramatic at my worst

I have always missed you,
like I might die without you.

But you’ve been gone much longer
than I can even hold my breath,
and it’s not so difficult remembering how to breathe.

I don’t want to say I gave you up.

You were never mine to let go of,
but my hands are cramped from
holding your memory too tight.

So I miss you.
Funny how it’s getting easier to admit.

It’s quiet and resigned,
a deep inhale, and an uncertain sigh.

I’m not sure which yearning I prefer
neither seems to satisfy
I thought it would make it easier
to give moving on a try.


If It Hadn’t Been For Loving You

I’ve never seen myself
as one of those tragically beautiful girls
pushed to the brink of sadness
in the most poetic way

I thought though,
that that’s what you wanted,
Someone to save.
Someone to need you.

So I tore myself apart for you
fell to pieces at your feet
and gave you everything
you ever wanted

You put me back together
a delicate touch, by a shaky hand
and if it hadn’t been for loving you
I would have turned out alright.

The stitches itch
and the pain meds are wearing off
to remind me that you’re gone
now that your work’s all done

While you’ve fixed me perfectly
I find myself a ruin in need of you
the glue holding my fragile frame in place
and no one else will do

If it hadn’t been for loving you
I would never know the price
If it hadn’t been for loving you
I would have given up the fight.


There’s a song that I’ve been singing
in my head since the day you left
quietly unfolding all my sins
and laying them out to dry

Cause you were the one
I wanted for so long
but now that you’re gone

And it hits me like a brick
at the most inconvenient times
that you’re no longer around,
it’s been months,
it’s been years and
I still can’t fully shake you dear.

There’s a place I’ve been avoiding
where your voice sounds so sweet
when I hear my name on your lips
whispering “come back to me”

I’ve been fine without you
I’ve been learning to live without you
but I still miss you dear

And it hits me like a brick
at the most inconvenient times
that you’re no longer around,
it’s been months,
it’s been years and
I still can’t fully shake you dear.

Memories Lie

This place tastes like him,
cherry cough syrup
and sweet escapes

if only I could give in to the flavors.

This place smells like him,
rainy afternoons
and anxious joy

if only I could give in to the aromas.

This place sounds like him,
a playlist of missed opportunities
and forgotten promises

if only I could give in to the rhythm.

This place feels like him,
the calm before the storm
the hopeless hope of reconciling with myself.

if only I could give in to the touch.

I’ve learned better though.
I’ve learned to give into nothing.
Especially a memory.

Memories only flirt with the truth
when it suits them.
Memories only stay long enough
to trick you into believing
they won’t break your heart.

Memories lie.

They tell me I should miss him
in my darkest hour.
They tell me I should hate myself
for the choices I’ve made.
They tell me lies.

This place does not taste like him,
it does not smell like him,
it does not sound like him,
it does not feel like him,
because he isn’t here.

This place is mine.
And I’m taking it back.


You say you know love, but you are just reflecting words you hear.
No iron in your veins to give you any sense of pain or fear.
It’s just another lie, it’s just another calculation,
And when the power’s out, we’re just another old sensation.

He Comes and Visits

Please someone
shoot me in the foot
to distract me from
this bodiless pain

As it snakes around my heart
taking over every moment of my soul
And I am no longer free
locked up amongst my thoughts
unable to reach out

This is all too dramatic
and I should not feel trapped
It could be easy
If I just let it be

Let it go
Let me go.

And I begin to sink
further and further
I’ve never known it by its name
just by this feeling.

We are old friends
in this knowing way

He comes and visits;
sometimes setting up house
in the cracks and corners
of my weariness
eating at all my strengths
and tormenting all my weaknesses
for months at a time.

We argue, We fight
Like an old married couple
so knowing of each other
except less loving-more bitter

He holds me close so long
I hardly feel relief when he lets go
Knowing he will be back
at some point

To seep into my skin
nearly suffocating hope
that I had little of in the first place

I am in an awful funk
and I lost my dancing shoes
the music is melancholy
slow and steady

For what?
Waiting to be free.

And that’s what keeps me fighting
That’s what keeps me going
The idea that I will be free.