Can You Feel It?

I wake in the morning and reach for you,
can you feel it?

It’s mid afternoon and I’m wrapped up in your warmth,
can you feel it?

It’s 4 am and you’re in my dream with our fingers intertwined,
can you feel it?

I rest my head on the pillow and pretend it’s your chest,
can you feel it?

Weak

No matter what you do, it weakens you.
Everything just tears you up, rips you to shreds.

It’s as if all the weight is on your shoulders.
No matter how hard to try to hold it,
you crumble underneath it all.

You’re too weak to hold it all up anymore.

More Than Razors and Empty Stomachs

Self harm can be a hunger,
razor blades on skin.
Bruises and sleepless nights
and blood and tears.

It can also be sitcoms, and all our favorite movies.
Your perfume I still spray on my pillow to hold.
Keeping your books within reach, 
reading the inscriptions.

It can be eating bolognese, 
yours was my favorite. 

Or countless written words and spilled ink.
Clutching onto the softness of plush toys and small animals.

Drinking your favorite tea,
out of the mug with your initial on it.

All the songs I swear were written
with you in mind, just playing on repeat.
Finding you in every new song. 

Birthday cards and letters you’ve sent, 
still framed on my dresser.

Gifted jewelry I will never get rid of.
The feeling of the gold chain resting on my neck.

Thoughts of you.
Dreams of you. 

Pictures of you. Videos, too. 
Why did I take so many? 
Thank god I took so many.

Is this self harm?
Is it healing?
Is it grieving?

It all feels the same

Pictures of Me

Look at me — I’m smiling in this one. I’m happy. Radiant, even… wouldn’t you say? How do I do it? How do I mask all the pain and all the anger and resentment behind those eyes?

If nobody sees the pain, it’s as if it’s not real.
Right?