Release in Toxic Waters.

 It would be so temptingly masochistic to fall back into the pattern. 

 It would be so disturbingly comforting to give into the worst parts of myself. 

 It would be so incredibly fulfilling to find release in those toxic waters. 

 I dream of deep diving back into you. Up to my neck, not trying to stay on the surface at all. 

 Sinking so far into the ocean where you drowned me for your own sadistic pleasure. 

 Your waves pulled me into the depths of the darkest parts of my mind. 

 My ears filled with your waves, your words, stealing my mind. 

 Swallowing every drop you gave me, in hopes of finding ecstasy. 

 Gulping back my words and choking on yours, all while gasping for air. 

 Your needs were a ball and chain, keeping me from swimming. 

 And I relished in the need to please you, and the validation that followed. 

 Your praise felt like getting high, like the one drop of oxygen I earned.

 I stopped drowning long enough to keep breathing, you gave me just enough. 

 You kept me alive and writhing, but barely clinging to life. 

 Your air in my lungs was my only lifeline, and you got off on that. 

 Making sure that we were alone and drowning together was your speciality. 

 The blackest of oceans and no one but the two of us, chasing a release.

 Me from you, I wanted to swim, to breathe. And you from yourself. 

 The drowning was your favorite part, wallowing in the water. 

 Thriving on the lack of air, and life; you just needed someone to drown. 

 Someone to die with you, so it was less lonely, but it’s a big ocean. 

 And a bigger world, my release is not for your pleasure, or your pain. 

 And your release will no longer be my pain, simply because I was stronger. 

 I chose to swim alone, while you tried and failed to drown with me. 

 Whether you sink or swim, is not up to me, nor will I take the guilt. 

 I am swimming, and breathing, and that is something you can’t say. 

That's the First Step.

 I used to love the forest. I loved how big it was, and how small I felt. I enjoyed the rush I felt when I looked down at the ground from the top of a tree. I liked the way that time and real life disappeared, I could be anyone, forget everything. I was a warrior, an assassin, a princess, I was free. It was like as soon as I stepped in between the trees, I was anything but who I was. I would sit high up in the branches, and hug the trees and nap. I felt like the trees deserved love too, and they were my friends, so I hugged them, and talked to them, they were safe. They were my escape. 

 I loved the small fields I would find if I walked far enough. They held sunflowers, I think that's why they're my favorite. I liked to pretend I was a fairy, and dance around to the sound of the birds. I would lay on the ground and find safety when the blades of grass made a cocoon around my small figure. I counted the clouds, and picked the flowers, and fell in love with the way the earth goes quiet. So quiet, I could hear every bird chirp, every howl of wind, every crunch of the ground with my steps. 

 

I decided my favorite part was when I would find patches of empty land between the trees, and I'd make forts. I hung sheets for walls, and logs were used as chairs, I dug holes for my poems and songs I'd written, and hid out there for hours. I loved that it was my own little home. I felt safe there, in between trees and cotton walls, I'd bring snacks, and water, and a bag of toys. I decided when home got too loud, or too quiet, I'd go there. I left the sheets up for years. I kept going back. I stopped taking toys, and started taking my paints, or my guitar. I kept burying my journal in the hole for years. 

 I stopped going into the woods the older I got, and found comfort in other things, though not as often. I missed it, but it slowly came to hold darker memories and no longer brought me the peaceful feeling it once did. I loved the forest because it was an escape, and what I was escaping started to take over my mind. I forgot the beauty, the sound, the feeling, that I felt. Even if I was escaping, I found my calm in the storm. I found what made me sing. I found what made me safe. 

 Though I didn't see that silver lining till recently. I let the forest represent a dark and terrifying journey, I let the fields remind me how alone I felt, I let my first safe place, become my biggest fear. All because it resembled parts of my journey that I didn't want to remember. Recently, I saw the woods. I didn't go into them. I know now that with age, I've become scared. Scared of how large the trees are in comparison to myself, and I can't imagine climbing one now. I've since gained a fear of heights, and the unknown. The fear of being lost between the trees, or finding myself alone in a field holds me back. I know I'm too old to play pretend, I no longer hear the trees talk back to me. I don't feel the childlike joy that gave me the courage to dance alone in a field. I hear the birds, but they no longer make a song. 

 I've since removed myself from every last drop of my youth, and all that remains is the trees and myself. I spend copious amounts of time outdoors. I still don't go into the trees, or dance in fields; but I look, and I listen. I watch the trees sway with the wind, and I hum back to the birds when they chirp. I sing when it rains, and I think about when I used to dance in it. I decided that's my goal, to dance in the rain. And really feel it. To cry into the ground with mother nature, and be bathed in rain water and scream at the sky. I want to feel every part of nature, I want to bury a poem, and hug a tree. I think that's the first step, really. Wanting to feel better, and safe, and make peace with what brought you pain. It's progress at least, to sit in silence with the earth and realize that in that moment between the trees, with my feet in the grass, I'm safe. 

 Cigarettes and Perfume

 Though nothing could possibly change my mind, I have still tried one thousand times. Tried to erase the scent you left, to forget the memories, burn the pictures, pour out the drinks. 

 Half full coffee mugs you left scattered among the surfaces in my space. My space. Where I spent countless nights, awake, wondering if I'd ever call it ours. 

 Wonder engulfs me as you disappear through the door, no realization crosses your features. Will this be routine or turn to dust before the sound of your engine revving reaches my ears.

 Thinking boundlessly has fused me and my emotions into one. I no longer control them, or myself. You do. Still, despite our newly found distance that seems to affect you none. 

 Having given myself the punishment of spending my life in a purgatory surrounded by women who look like you, smell like you, dress like you. However, they open their mouth, or walk, or drink, in a way that will never quite compare to the refined elegance you carried with you. 

 Always performing simple tasks in an angelic way, your tone making it impossible to consider the truth of the statement. Your eyes sparkling mischievously, never rising the curtain behind that gaze, never allowing one to see your soul. 

 Those simple characteristics no one else has procured, at least in my life time. You're a walking museum, of everything I want to love, the truest form of beauty, the only palpable interest. 

 It is evident that in your absence, I have figured out my time without you, is only a waste. I no longer crave to be alone, to smell of eucalyptus and rain, or to wake up cold in solitary. 

 I've decided none of those seem better than not waking up at all, nothing but memories held as proof that we existed. To be tossed between sheets with a head of tousled hair that I know you'd run your hands through; that may be the only thing that could change my mind. 

 It won't happen, not now, not tomorrow, not ever. Absence does not make the heart grow fonder. It just makes it feel surreal, makes it indescribably dreadful, impossible to accept. Easier to believe they don't exist at all because the alternative, is accepting they didn't love you enough to stay. 

 My love, despite your absence, your honesty hiding eyes, your bad habits you made beautiful, and everything in between; this bittersweet ending will never compare. 

 I'll cease to exist, I do already in your mind, only this time it's real, and I'll go dreaming of you. Of us, having one more morning to wake up in each others arms, and inhaling the scent of cigarettes and perfume. 

You Don't Smile

   

 You Don't Smile 

 I've seen the way you used to

 smile when I sang, 

 smile when I danced,

 smile when I made you proud. 

 Now there isn't a smile in sight, 

 I don't get to see you laugh. 

 Or even crack a smile.

 I see the sadness in your eyes,

 The stress between your brows, 
 The lack of sleep right above 
 your cheeks, worry becomes me.

 You've told me time and time 
 again, don't worry child, it'll
 all be fine. But when is it time
 for you to take your own advice?
 I mean no disrespect, listen to 
 me now, calm yourself. Breathe. 

 Life isn't always in your control, 
 there isn't anything you can do.
 Breathe, it doesn't get easier, you 
 just get used to it. I hate to put 
 it that way, but what other way is 
 there when all you can do is breathe? 

 I wanna see you smile, I wanna see a 
 bright, and joyful smile,the ones you
 used to give me in the afternoons, is 
 that too much to ask? I would hope not.