We are the suicide kids
The generation between x and y
Who saw the end of world but didn’t know what it meant
Who have more slit wrists and psych appointments then opportunities
I wish this was a brighter poem
But we are the kids who hid from the abuse behind masks of false smiles
We know how to work harder because we’re competing with people twice our age and skill
And no matter how much training we can’t fix it
There’s more drugs then hope
And everyone knows a drug dealer, or 6
We are the abused that became abusers
Giving each other mental scars I’m not sure will ever heal
We are the kids who don’t know what’s behind the mask
Because we never got a chance to explore
I’m not blaming our parents
They did the very best they could in a world that changed so drastically
I can’t say I’d do it any different
I tried to grab on to the remnants of what I thought our identity was
But it got lost somewhere between the lines of the people we want to be and who we are
A generation that’s so sick of having to carry knives and pepper spray
Who know what it’s like to sit silent in a room full of predators
We aren’t perfect
But our killjoy noise stains the flag
Most of us have fallen into some kind of hell
We call it home easily
Always know someone who lost their war
We are comfortable at graveyards
At ease in church halls from funerals
Have a list of songs they can’t play anymore
And maybe this time we’ll do better
But this is all we’ve got

Let me learn about you,
about all the little things you do,
about your favourite flower
and the songs you sing in the shower

Let me look at you up close
from the back of your hand
to the tip of your nose,
your prominent cheekbones
and your little toes

Let me know of your dearest story
which filled days with endless glory,
so we can lay in bed when there’s shitty weather,
to read it out loud and escape together.

—  // let me love you
he was the first boy that made you brave enough
to openly want something. you bloomed like
chrysanthemums under his hands. spun yourself
gold. hung the sun from your tonsils. every time
you opened your mouth, you wrote him into light.
told him, i don’t see the dark, i only hear the birds.
made him the muse, turned yourself martyr. loved
him until your face turned blue. until your spine 
became wishbone. your body turned meadow.
grew in the midst of a frost. shook off the ice
crystals and opened your mouth. showed
him the sun. reminded him of the songbirds.
promised to keep being the light if he
promised not to swallow the dark.
—  CHRYSANTHEMUMS, angelea l.

I want to feel you.
Your words in my breast,
your thoughts in my head,
your breath on my skin,
your laugh in my eyes.
I want to feel you,
your heart,
your soul.
Your body.
Every part of you.
I want to feel you,
your hands.
Every inch of us should blend
like the night sky blends in with the sunrise.
I want to feel your strenght,
when you’re holding me.

I want to feel you.
Every part of you.

—  zx-a
time has yet to change the way I felt about you, yet to alter the way I always stop at two when counting to ten, yet to authorize the stars to form constellations in daylight. I’ve been dreaming realities into grasps missing can’t connect, but I’m always drawing blanks where eyes should be. I know tomorrow is the wings on your shoulder doubt has hinged closed, tomorrow is the pillow keeping your feet from staying warm– the story you’ve been promising to caress life around, but there isn’t a thing that doesn’t change by time– even us. would I prefer to forget about you? sleep with painted nails and wake up without the sheets keeping the ghost of you warm, answer every i love you without turning down the cries of clouds passing by? I’ll keep relearning how to stand if it means knowing your name just to hear it break me again. time has yet to matter, in this moment of forever, you live in such grace. in this polaroid, how could you be replaced? disposable cameras and your favorite way to say i love you with a wrinkle near your nose and a slant near your lips– if i could hold you like this, why would i ever run away? and they say to love is to accept, so if i run my fingers against your skin enough times, so if i apologize for the millionth time, maybe it’s my way of accepting our failures and what we could have done to stop the agony of not knowing if we were ever going to be good enough, just us two. lost inside of a time capsule, a second sprinkled into a single piece of rain that never got attached to paintings, a minute stretched into the next life is a little bit more than unforgiving, i never got to call you mine enough, so when i attach my heart to the hours and i dial your number, i leave decades upon decades of voicemail that you’ll never hear because out there where my worries float, out there where the echoes sound less and less like who i used to know, baby, when you give the universe the responsibility of letting go– a blackhole doesn’t just take, it gives. i am empty, an empty home. i am forgiving, a corpse less tomb. i am emotionally bent to the bones, and if i placed you high enough, do you think the angels could guide us back into those lonesome summers when we could recall about us and how these days, it’s okay to be afraid about uncertainty because awhile back, we made peace with our hellos and shook hands with our goodbyes, some days my highs feel like my lowest points, but when my lows feel like a euphoric nostalgia– i clutch your polaroid and write you one last poem, unedited, uncut and always a bit unfortunate.
—  The Ate & The Bunso

It’s been 100 days since you kissed her,
And that doesn’t matter anymore or maybe the fact that I’m still counting means that it still matters all too much

I guess what I’m trying to say is that it doesn’t hurt like a knife anymore. I can see you without wanting to run as fast as I can (I still haven’t decided whether I wanted to run to you or away from you)

Somewhere during these 100 days my body got tired of being sad over someone who doesn’t deserve my tears, who never deserved me in the first place. So maybe it does still matter, but it doesn’t hurt as much and I guess that means I’m getting somewhere

I know we’re not in each other’s lives anymore but sometimes I wish we could just spend a day together and have everything be like it was.
Is such a thing possible? To spend a single day in each other’s company again, laughing and kissing and talking about everything and nothing.
Would it really be so terrible to meet somewhere and have lunch together and pretend it’s the past… that we’re back in time and you’re still the one person I can rely on when the whole world is against me?
If I asked you, could you do it… pretend that you still care for all times sake? It’s foolish I know, which is why I’ll never ask, but the truth is life’s not been easy since you left and I’d do just about anything right now to be able to pretend just for one day that I’m happy again; That everything’s okay - that everything will be okay - because that’s how you always made me feel even on the worst days imaginable.
But that was the past and I know I live in the here and now and I need to face reality – but the reality is that the day you walked out of my life I lost the greatest thing I ever had… and it’s been nothing but losses ever since.
While loving you I never wished for more, but I did wish for longer
—  Confessions
Every step I’ve been taking lately has been so heavy. I feel like I’m walking through water and I’m so tired. But I’ll gladly keep bearing the weight and pushing forward if it means all these steps will lead me to you.

It’ll all be worth it in the end.


April 28 2017