In Which the Sea is My Best Friend

Her salt stinging your face will make you lose track of how many tears you have shed

You’ll forget what’s yours or her comforting, foaming waves

She’s moody and there is never a place she isn’t storming

But somehow she still calms me

Assuring everything will fall into place

Every grain of sand was once part of something bigger, ending their journey here broken into smaller fragments

Almost as if they were once dreamers who dreamt too big

Their dreams shrunk with harsh realities, laid to rest here under my feet

Almost as haunting as the graveyards they emulate

Reminding you about the time you nearly ended beneath the earth

Whispering to you about how far you’ve come, she does, about how proud she is with the gentle cold tickling you

And when you cease to be

She will take you back in her arms

Because there, you are home


Tap tap tap my fingers find something to stop the shaking in my hands

Crowded spaces make it hard for me to breathe

Ready for an attack that never comes, heart racing, gazing over my shoulder

Post traumatic stress still lives in this body despite the eviction notices I keep leaving at its doorstep

No one asks about the stories written throughout my body anymore

The wheeze interlaced with a laugh because where I’m from they’d rather have 14 year olds smoking under the bleachers rather than open up the discussion about mental illness and addiction

Turning a blind eye to the plague silently killing off my friends, my generation

Fading scars from a day gone by

The bleeding takes your mind off the yearning to die for but a little while

My parents think I’m alone too much

Worrying about an impending attack all the time is tiring

It’s impossible to tell them I’ve been trying to rid myself of the pain developed by a lack of chemicals in my brain

By inviting new toxins in

No one wants to talk about mental illness and addiction still

It’s been 6 years

One Sided Conversation With my Therapist

After Desireé Dallagiacomo

I am so afraid

Bruises bring me back to days I remind myself to forget

When I wished some accident would cease my existence in the present tense

Memories folded up in pockets, crinkled in the crease of the shirt they wore the last time they saw me laughing

I’m still afraid to eat but I weigh more than the wings of a bird now

How do I cope with not being good enough?

Kids younger than me are inventing, discovering, changing the world

All I do is scratch lines on dead trees pretending I’m making a difference

People are afraid of me

But the only thing to fear are the diseases nobody warned them about

Don’t worry – they’re not transmittable, I tried gifting them in a little box to the people who ripped my heart out of my chest

I tried coughing them out of my lungs but that hasn’t worked yet

My fight or flight reflex has gone haywire since the days I was riddled with handed violence handed down from people I thought cared about me

Now I can barely remember who’s air I’m breathing, the planet I’m on, the time I belong to

Her hands weren’t gentle, his words were the poison I wanted years earlier when the only thought I had was about death and how to meet her

How can I cope with addictions I was gifted?

Mania will take any mind altering substance it can get its grimy hands on

Taking me higher or tethering me back to Earth, anything will do

Depression loves anything that brings it back to its feet

I have watched too many people I love destroy themselves like this


How do I live in a society that looks down on the mentally ill who rely on medication to keep them alive?


I loved one person until love didn’t make sense anymore

I give pieces of my love to people unconditionally

Whether they need it or not

But oh god never someone like him again

He was a rose – pretty until you touch the thorns

For many I am a shoulder to cry upon, an adventure partner, a laugh so hard it is only recognized as a wheeze

Remembering me as a never ending radiant light in which they can anchor themselves to

I am the lighthouse in which understands the lonely boats tethered to

He saw something to be bulldozed into a better story to fit his agenda

Never again can I touch a soul like his

To My 14 Year Old Self

You’re never going to hear from her again

No matter how many poems you write about her

Nights falling asleep thinking about how she feels curled up next to you

Tasting the honey of her lips, the wine of her laughter

She’s going to forget you when she forgets this place in leaving for the misery of Missouri

Learn to love this place instead

Memories of her will tangle themselves in the thorn bushes, trees, the sound of being alone by the forested waters

She won’t come running to you even if you’re the last breath of clean air

I’m sorry to break your heart baby

The curve of her smile is still etched under your skin

Don’t tear it out – that’ll hurt more than remembering

Every piece of simple beauty will remind you of her

The clouds in the sky, the whistle of wind in the trees

Let yourself remember her in her rawest moments, the way you loved her

Just because she didn’t love you back doesn’t mean you can’t let yourself love the memory of her

Old Habits

The darkness that became us was a test we weren’t prepared for

Sending out the distress signal but no one could speak that language

Demonized for picking up habits we knew we shouldn’t

We weren’t taught any other method to light up the world that became dull with us

I wasn’t suppose to make it

The past living beneath my skin is too terrifying to uncover

So many years not knowing happy left addictions no one wants to fix

My smile remembers all the years it spent lost

I was lucky enough to see today

Many of us still can’t see ourselves 5 years down the road but that doesn’t mean we won’t try to stay

Recovery doesn’t always mean a will to live

I still feel as though I am not meant to exist here

Addiction is one hell of a monster I have yet to conquer

Why do I still go back to what I know will hurt me in the end?

Tasting Memories

Memories fade for many reasons

They can’t fade if they were never there

Post traumatic stress disorder affects the brain in a manner in which something goes awry transferring short term memories to long term


It’s playing Russian Roulette when I tell myself to remember certain moments

Many times I won’t

I told myself I would remember us laying, innocently mapping his skin with my fingertips

Our laughter dancing in the moonlight teaching him the magic of making out in public

But I’m already forgetting the details

Like his words melting into mine

Post traumatic stress disorder hides memories in a world I cannot find

I tell myself what memories need to be captured

But they end up on a film reel in the attic of memories I cannot dig up

I want to remember the moments that made my heart fuzzy

Yet the ones freezing my veins surprise me instead

Remembering the sting of violence still makes it hard to breathe

I’m not sure if I want to remember any longer


Depression is not a beautiful boy holding you in his arms pleading for you to stay here with him

It’s 2am muffling your sobbing

Tears dripping over a goodbye

No one is awake at this hour and you learn how lonely 2am actually is

I thought everyone could see through me

But they were blindsided by the thought that I was ok

Movies lie to make it look prettier than it actually is

You’re not going to find love running through the halls of a psychiatric ward

Those twin beds make you wish you were on the outside

The ward, outside being stuck in your own delusions

Depression is a disease but people still treat it like a choice

I didn’t choose to live in enough pain to see death as the only option

There are chapters of my life I chose not to read

Depression is not pretty enough to be reread like that

Through the medication, therapy sessions, doctor’s appointments

Sometimes you wish you cracked enough to stop living