Weather.

Falling apart feels like falling together. Atoms whisked away into the wind. Every direction feels right and somehow we are supposed to find one place to sink in.

Gray skies feel like home. Blue skies feel safe, too. The hurt and the happy are fused together and I’m not sure what to do.

I am torn in the middle. I am an unhemmed seam. The extra movement is perfect but sometimes structure is what I think I need.

I’m falling apart and I’m falling together. There is freedom in heart break. There is freedom in being able to roam. Freedom is terrifying when you so fully made another body your home.

The grime that slides down and shows clear paths through my windows panes lightens up all of these dark days. The streaks let the joy creep through. Somehow I’m sad but I’m happy; a feeling that I blame but also gift to you.

I’m falling together. It’s lonely¬† but I’ll be better. I won’t always ignore the signs, I will do things for me and only me, sometimes.

I’m lonely but I’m better. I’m lonely but I can appreciate all of this weather.

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Found.

I lost myself in search of you. I ran to you as I ran from the truth.

I fell into your rabbit hole and was mesmerized by the Technicolor show. I got lost and forgot who I was and what I know.

But you scared me awake and sparked me to flee. I might not have gotten out if not for your violence to scare me. Thank you.

I lost myself hoping to find you. To pull you out of that gutter you love to wallow in. The dark places you claim to hate. The ones you lured me in.

I got lost and forgot who I was. Forgot that I don’t surround myself with boys like you. I have men in my life and thank God they know me, too.

I got lost hoping you’d change. Hoping you’d grow up. I remembered myself this week and am so much lighter since we stopped being “us.”

Flex your muscles in the mirror, not at me. Spit with anger at yourself. Punch your own walls. Grow up, stay lost, you’re not my problem now.

I found myself and I missed me. You let me fall into you and disappear into something I never wanted to be.

Call me a lie, call me a cunt, call me all of your favorite words…but I found me again and I’m finally happy and whole with you out of my world.

False God.

You fell very hard and the ground wasn’t forgiving. You thought you were immortal. You thought I was another human who would let you keep on verbally punching.

But real heroes don’t scream from the mountains of their feats. They don’t belittle others in hopes of the rewards they will reap.

Little fists of fury shaking at the vast sky. She smiles because she knows who are the mice and who are the men. She’s disappointed you chose wrong, again.

She knows you have worlds condensed into minutes swirling like black holes inside your head. She knows you don’t know how to get them out without a half dozen meds.

Shouting at the sky might make you feel heard. But when she hangs stars and galaxies, you’ll realize it’s you that needs to learn.

We are mortals here on Earth. You are only as valuable as your own personal worth.

I am drenched in sapphires, emeralds, pearls. You wallow on mountains, insisting that there is gold in your fermented words.

Keep digging for gold on your own. It isn’t worth it’s weight in a Fool’s Gold loan. Spit mud and dirt. You say you are immune, but I know you hate that words can hurt.

Run From Monsters.

I left last night. I mean that I ran. I was afraid last night. He was supposed to be my partner, my protector, my man.

Shaking cries long into the night away from my very own bed. I’ve never seen him rage like this. Terror, heart racing, I won’t forget the threats that were implied and said.

Vague and ambiguous words keep him safe. The damage has been done. The monster has been released. What cage, what safety is there to run?

Snarl, Monster, snarl. Rattle your chains. Nothing like the others can be the claim to your fame. I’ve never been threatened like that. Never felt like locking the door was the only way to hide from your wrath.

Rattle your chains and show your fangs. I know I’m no angel and I’ve never claimed to be, but I can fly and you cannot and this eternally stokes your flames.

We all see you now. We see. What did you think last night would do? I see you.

Witches.

The words have to be dripped onto paper. They have to be scrawled like the witches being burned, frantically leaving their last spells before they are consumed.

They have to be preserved in the bricks. Hidden in the little breaks of the foundation. They have to be left for dead, fluttering among crumpled leaves.

The words can’t be graffitied on the concrete of the parks or under bridges that are so easily seen. Arrested without being read rights, a trial without a jury, the words can break this society.

Hide them in whispers let loose on windy days. Carve them into your flesh where no one can see what they say.

Witches know how it feels to burn. Still scribble everything of heaven and Earth because we aren’t the ones who needed to learn.

Let the water blur the words hidden in the walls. Smear the witchcraft like the blood inside. Hide the words that aren’t safe, after all.

29 and 33.

I’ve never fought for something to be mine. I didn’t know I wanted it, or that it was something that I would want in time.

I’m falling apart on the longest car ride. Read my mind I’m trying to do this right. I don’t really know who I am and that’s the scariest thing that could ever be. Not knowing who you are or what you want to be but I’ve left someone else’s life and I pray that she doesn’t hate me for it. Her resentment is something I could never deal with it.

But I’m trekking miles and miles back home to him. To carve out a little piece of my very own life. I didn’t think I’d ever want that. Afraid of hurting you so much you wouldn’t want me back.

For once I want to have a home. All of these rooms make me feel more and more alone.

I’m tired of feeling so small next to you. I’m a little sister, what else was I to do?

But I think I’m ready to be bigger now. Little sister but older somehow. I love you more than you can possibly ever know, you’re my best friend, my confidante, my older wiser everything I’ve ever known.

But I’m ready to build a home.

Who knew at the age of 29 I’d finally want to make something all, beautifully, mine?

Chaos.

Her name is Chaos and she rules this destructive world. She batters down doors and rips off hinges trying to get in.

She isn’t a very delicate or pretty girl.

She brings down worlds with a casually careless word. She destroys from within. She keeps battering him.

She brings about the wrong kind of change. Her ways are selfish. She always forgets her name.

Chaos. She will turn everything you thought you wanted upside down.

Chaos. She didn’t mean to break all the things. Chaos tries to control all her damage, now.

She didn’t mean to ruin and she didn’t mean to end. Chaos just keeps destroying and she just wants to keep him.

Cage Bird.

I’m selfish and I’m wrong. I keep choosing me and I know you’ve known this all along.

I want all the glitter in the world. I have the chance to have it but you don’t like a traveling girl.

I try to change and clip my wings. I try to not want flightier things. I try to stay grounded and not fall. Without opening my wings I don’t feel like me at all…

I am trying to be everything you want of me. I’m trying to make you happy. I know I’m selfish and crucially flawed. You say I’m perfect but we both know that’s not true at all.

How do I fly inside of a cage? How do I quell the desires in me? How do I fix the things that I break? Why can’t I learn from my mistakes?

I try to sit pretty and sing only for you. I keep my wings at my side when we are inside. I sing softly to not disturb this peace but somehow always start battles and cry myself to sleep.

I want to fly. I want more than just to sing. I’m sorry for every single thing.

Jen.

She is strong. She holds in screams that tear her throat apart. She works every moment to ease the unease in everyone else’s heart.

She is strong and greets every day when it is still dark, kisses their wounds, remains steady in everything she has to do.

She is a crumbling Valentine flower in May when she showers. A safe place to fall asunder. The only place she doesn’t feel will be bothered.

Holding together so many worlds is cumbersome and often she forgets she is just one girl.

She is strong and battles on while he is gone. She is strong and fights on. She hides the tears and continues on. She is strong.