To the flower that bloomed too early

To the flower that bloomed too early
I wanted to say,
I love you.

To the flower that bloomed too early
I wanted to say,
You were perfect.

To the flower that bloomed too early
I wanted to say,
Winter didn’t know what it was messing with.

To the flower that bloomed too early
I wanted to say,
The garden seems darker without you.

To the flower that bloomed too early
I wanted to say,
I love you

– 7/27/17

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Breathe.

Breathe.

I keep telling myself to breathe.

Why is it so hard to do the most basic of things.

Teeth chattering, feet pressed to the ground. I’m not even sure why the tears flood my face, and yet I do. I’m begging for release,  emptied onto a page, washed down the sink.

Every moment is fleeting, yet stagnant.

Breathe.

Everything in my head, on the edge of my tongue, on the tip of my fingers.

Every fire I light burns down the forest.

Containing violence between clenched fists and forced breaths. the need to tear oneself apart.

I can not do this. the feelings are too strong and I am too weak.

Breathe.
Distract.

She will always know the feeling

She will always know the feeling,
of your arms around her.
She will always know the feeling,
of her heart beating faster.
She will always know the feeling,
of loving too much.
She will always know the feeling,
of your ever present touch.

She will always know the feeling,
of your betrayal.
She will always know the feeling,
of wanting to walk of the rail.
She will always know the feeling,
of how it all ended.
She will always know the feeling,
of never being mended.

She will always know the feeling,
of you sweet summer smile.
She will always know the feeling,
of you walking on by.
She will always know the feeling,
of not being noticed.
She will always know the feeling,
of seeing love in your eyes.