I kissed the palm of my hand and blew you a kiss.

I don't think I really have anything left to say to you anymore. 

I just can't go on like you do preteding as though there was never anything wrong. 

I am not a pity case, nor do I need anymore of yours. 

You've made your choice to stop caring about me

so please allow me to forget that you ever had a pulse. 

I never told you how much it hurt, 

but I still stand by my reasoning that you never would have cared. 

Too much went wrong for me to ignore everything that went on inside.

You never cared to look, never cared to ask.

I don't have a desire to forgive you for your ignorance, 

the last something that would ever mean anything was painful. 

I'm not staying close to you. 

I refuse to hurt in the same way that I once did. 

I'm sore in the mind from worrying about what

I should have never felt obligated to feel in the first place. 

Yes everything is just swell for you I'm sure. 

But no, I'm not charmed to be the girl that you walked all over and kicked 

so that you could make your way to what you thought was better. 

The injustice that you live with so well for my broken heart has killed me for long enough.

You see, 

the difference between a murderer and you is that you were never put on trial.

There was no fair jury of my peers

to watch me fall into decay

as you were allowed to walk out of the court room completely unscathed. 

I played it off so well that maybe you forgot,

you broke my heart, honey. 

As much as I used to wish that I include you in my evening tea,

you no longer seem as sweet as I thought you were. 

You told me that you were an asshole, 

but I just didn't believe you until last night. 

Sorry sweetheart, 

you don't get to walk away thinking that the pristine facade was the truth. 

You broke something so untouched and none of it even mattered to you.

I refuse to be surprised when you disappoint me. 

Now I get to be disappointed in you everytime you walk in the door and 

exhale as you leave as you usually do.

Human Dignity + Compassion = Peace. 

Sorry I need to move.

I'm halfway sorry that I ever laid eyes on you in the first place.

I wonder who I would have been had I not have. 

A whole chunk of who I am would be filled with this mysterious substance

and while I try not to care for what it might have been,

I've found myself regretting the wasted time that my heart spent crunching and squashing 

just trying so hard to squeeze a way near you.

I realize that there are so many things that never needed to happen to me

all because I thought that there were possibilities that

even science could have proven impossible. 

But my headspace is just too different now and

I wouldn't dare change it back for any instance where

you could have cared for me as well. 

But I have yet to find a soul who would love as well as I can.

I wonder how long it'll be until I find someone else that I can open up to like this again. 

It was hard enough the first time so I don't know how much worth something like this holds. 

I am not a malleable metal that shines only when you glance in my direction.

In fact had I been given the choice,

you wouldn't have looked at me at all.

Maybe just for insurance you would have been born blind.

But since that seems all too harsh I would devise a blanket.

It would be your least favorite color in its most beautiful shade

and I perhaps none of this would have mattered as much. 

I'll give you your rib back if it was ever mine just so that

you would be satisfied with the self that you have. 

I beg of you, 

please take your eyes back. 

Please do not know that I lived, 

and forget that I ever breathed in your direction. 

You are going to live your life the way that you were meant to without me.

I hope that your heart expands four sizes and the green of your eyes stops mattering. 

I want to say goodbye without needing to say goodbye

and boy oh boy do I wish upon wishes that you never ask me. 

I have no answer for you and perhaps you never need one. 

I wish you luck finding another with possible theories and conspiracies.

But I can really no longer allow you to matter. 

Human Dignity + Compassion = Peace. 

I want to say that it's completely fine.

While I'm trepidatious to say that I feel better,

I sort of feel better. 

I can't say that it's that one feeling of

when you go to a furniture store and you find the perfect pillow. 

No hug can truly match the relief of that one. 

I know that yours now, never will give me the comfort that I need.

Don't get me wrong,

I'm not strong enough to simply live on without them entirely,

but I just don't think that you fit the mold anymore.

I'd like to believe that I've finally convinced myself that

you are not integral to my livelihood anymore.

I have no beef with admitting that you once were, 

and I basked in the sun of a day with simple greeting of yours,

and died on the rest. 

Deep in the depths of my mind,

there is still a bit of me that does and always will care.

I need to know that and repeat it to myself so that I can finally stop attacking it.

Getting rid of the horror in me will not make me any less scary.

Because in all truth,

any human contains the self-destruct button that is the ability to be feared.

Hurting others has become so easy for the offenders

that there stops being a point in the defenders.

There is no purpose in going the right way when all others are in the wrong,

at least publicly. 

I also like to think that I try to go in the right direction,

that I'm not too far gone in what appears to be a newer, freakish version of human nature. 

It will absolutely consume us all,

because too many people have given up what they believe they were made for.

Then they realize that they were made for nothing

but the grand design of lifeforms in the universe. 

This is too much for those that dare investigate that part of their minds.

The pain of having no importance weighs heavier than that of an anvil.

I miss you a bit,

but I know that you were the anvil of which I had no importance,

I hope that she is the feather that will make you feel the opposite.

For your sake,

I truly hope that she is,

because I don't know how much pressure one could place on 

a heart too weak to beat for another one that bleeds. 

Human Dignity + Compassion = Peace. 

The touch of your eyes

Does anyone ever notice the pointlessness

of speaking without looking at someone else's eyes?

They'll tell you so much if you'll only let them.
While I choose to look away from you, do not let me be misunderstood:

I mean to look away from you.

You are looked at, but I don't want to see you anymore.

Somehow, looking at your eyes seems to be a bit too much for me. 

Sure, I'll pass you in the hall, but that is a pass.

As I'm taking a pass on what I used to care for. 

I'm trying to drain the life out of a heart that wants to care but can no longer afford to. 

But as I walk right by you, 

you still bother me. 

There's an itch in the back of my mind that I'm working so hard to forget.

Of course, I can't communicate this to you, 

but I do it this way simply because it's easier. 

There have been no metaphors here,

I really am struggling to look you in the eyes. 

I've avoided them best I could but I knew that you were looking for mine

and for whatever the reason, it hurt.

Or perhaps you weren't at all. 

Maybe I was just something that was easy for you to find and you didn't need to look too far.

I long for the space that your constant gaze doesn't provide.

I'm not so sure that I need the gush that your glazed over glance gives in full.

I will admit that it was once somethng that I had wanted for so long,

but with even a part of it being mine, it leaves a dull pain with the sting in my chest. 

You once mattered to me so much.

I don't think that the care I was so prepared to give is what you deserve. 

I bled adoration waiting for the transfusion of your affections. 

I can say that I'm better now a myriad of times over and it will never be enough.

By the skin of my teeth I change the rules and make them my own. 

It is not and never was my job to be the bank of your happiness. 

I gave you so many loans only to note that the deposits never came back. 

I just needed you to love me most. 

I needed to be fixed and I suppose I owe you the apology for giving you that job too. 

I need to know that we weren't right in order to keep myself in working order,

and because I don't and never will get your denial of that fact,

I can proceed with convincing myself of that as well.

And I need to because I have no choice. 

The only way that I have in my arsenal of getting over things is to push them away. 

And when I refer to pushing things away,

I don't always mean the slimy toddler rejecting their mashed potatoes.

I know that you are worth so much as a fellow human being,

but I also know that I'm just not worth your time anymore.

Your time is precious, and I know that I no longer want it to be given to me 

whilst it is shared with someone else as well.

I hope that you find a better way to spend your time than looking into my eyes.

Human Dignity + Compassion 

The Bright, Warm, Yellow Plate

I recall loving you once. 

I can remember the thoughts, 

the longing for each other's minds. 

See, I feel this inconsequential need to put this into a metaphor,

because although the bare bone language that I would speak to my sister

conveys the emotion,

my own demonstrates so much more.

Although I know that you, my friend, 

will always perfer the naked truth 

because you do not yet know to hide behind words as I do.

Well, in truth,

I don't necesarily cover myself in words as a disguise,

but rather I use them as a blanket to stop the glacier in my chest from fully forming.

But as I would in the sleep that I spend in my sea of thoughts,

I hog the blanket with the tenacity that I push you further with.

I suppose I found how I'm selfish.

I've been searching for it for so long that

I had nearly forgotten that it could exist- my selfishness. 

I've been hiding myself as the spider that lives in my kitchen does. 

His existance isn't necessarily clean-cut, 

and he knows that the plate hanging on the wall

will someday be moved for a special occassion. 

He fears the change,

but becomes acutely aware that it's an evil that he cannot live without any longer. 

His family was severed with the bang of a shoe

and a smear that he mimicks with a leg to wipe tears that

he shouldn't have had to conceal. 

But he continues on anyway,

cautiously carousing through the cracks of the wall that

he focused on so intently that he seemed to not matter as much. 

With all eight eyes no amount of water will be able to wash the events from his mind. 

So he dwells behind the contrary-to-his-own-self warm, yellow plate. 

He now knows in his old age that he doesn't need to stare at those cracks in the wall,

simply because they are the consistency that he is yet to reach.

The weary eyes have seen to much by now,

and he is glad to shut them for once.

Never too long,

but it's alright to take the rest and when he is long done,

he can find a different home outside with the spring,

My kitchen never served him as a proper home,

and now he has allotted himself that knowledge and he can crawl through an open window,

for the weeping willow tree outside holds promise.

He will discover all of them with time and make sure that they are kept,

because while such a sad tree provides shade,

the nips of light peering through are well earned, and will be most appreciated. 

Human Dignity + Compassion = Peace. 

I think it's almost gone.

I think the care that I once harbored for you is 

finally beginning to tarnish on its own. 

The gears in my mind aren't working the way that they once did.

There was the one widget that ensured that I didn't steer too far from the path 

that my mother and I had planned when I was bordering my terrible twos.

This one remained,

but I changed my path away from that one because it no longer made me happy. 

There was another that made strides at keeping my heart in motion, 

although the job was never done well enough.

The fatigue in my eyes has begun to wither. 

My least favorite gear was that of which made me long and struggle to gain

what I knew that I was never meant to obtain in the first place. 

This guy's gotten a bit rusty, 

too many bad days to be had.

I used to have this incessant care toward the way that other people thought and saw me.

Now I've made sure that he has no time to work his way counter-clockwising 

the limited apathy that I once refused to allow myself.

The factors that once told me to slow,

to, at the very least, try to understand that people might care

have been shut off as a light switch. 

To be completely realistic,

it doesn't feel as heartless as it is. 

I feel almost fine, which is much more than I had before. 

No one noticed, probably because the switch happened in my mnd.

I suppose when you kick the horse with enough frequency,

the horse develops PTSD and it goes on about his life.

 I would like my recovery wrapped in a cardboard box.

But on it, 

I'd rather have pale blue paper and the only thing of any type of glamour

being the coffee stained colored bow. 

The bitterness of my wreckless awakening may fall last on me,

but a superfluous part of me hopes above hope that someone else notices it too.

Maybe no one cares to look that closely into me anymore. 

Being frank,

I'm really not sure if that's a bad or a good thing. 

This really is being alive then,

trying to look to yoursef for everything and obtaining the knowledge that no one else will

because they try to do the same for themselves. 

Human Dignity + Compassion = Peace. 

Ode to the restroom.

So happiness shouldn't last. 

There should be balance between the light and the heavy metals in our minds. 

But I just don't see how one day of happiness equated to several days of saddness. 

The ratio just seems a bit too off. 

I'm so sick of having a second of being okay 

to an instant antonym that I have no uphill from. 

I don't particularly care for the whole "Everything gets better" vibe,

because not everything is meant to be better as not everything is meant to be fixed. 

I am not meant to be fixed because I am not truly broken yet. 

Things could of course get so much worse but quite frankly, 

I'm feeling pretty the worst at the moment. 

I think the most massive part of being kicked down from a high 

is when it all hits you in public. 

As much as I love the penetrating stares, 

the bathroom looks like a comforting place. 

The paper towels feel pretty rough but they still absorb all that I need them to.

Come to think of it,

one could make a decent friend in the paper towel machine. 

The perfect absorber of tears. 

Toilet paper works almost as well,

but like me it's just a little softer, 

comes apart a little easier. 

The paper towel dispenser tends to get a little stuck on itself. 

It breaks a little more everytime. 

That paper towel dispenser needs a repairman almost like I occasionally do. 

Needing that help should't be shamed, 

for not all repairmen are able to fix the root of the problem,

but the majority of them are swiftly able to relieve the symptom. 

The toilet getting clogged is mundane,

as is the upchuck after the stopping.

Before I accept my reward for "Teariest of the Year", 

I would like to give my thanks to the sink. 

I commend the cool flushing of my cheeks as 

my tears stream down at the same rate. 

As much as I wish that the time I spent in there was less than the majority of my time,

I've found myself to be almost productive in there.

The only bang and clatter that aren't in my mind are in the shutting of doors.

The slight dripping of he sinks don't bother me in the way that it would drive others insane. 

It's not a bad place to be. 

After all, it's a place of rest. 

I know that the natural noises of the outside world are healthy,

but sometimes I'd much perfer the artificial silence of the

bricked up tile walls and nonchalant strangers. 

I don't try to think about the parts of my life that prove to be a bother, 

but I don't need to think about them too seriously either. 

All of it just seems to fall. 

I just need to feel what my body chooses and deal with it. 

It's strange, the way that once you ponder the present bad news,

the old looks like a new tennis ball. 

I think I knew that it was going to take longer than average to pass,

but frankly, I wish that the non-clogged toilets could

help me excrete the worse thoughts from my mind.

After being told that you suck in so many different ways, 

it's difficult to resist the thought that life is giving you your own new-and-improved swirlie.

So thank you,

dear public restrooms, 

for giving my the rest that I couldn't even find in an arrest. 

Human Dignity + Compassion = Peace.