Soulless in Chicago

As I walk down the street,

I am next to another soul. 

I sway my arms, praying for his and mine to meet.

Maybe then, I will feel whole. 

My hands are of a hard worker,

a woman who sowed her pain to strength.

Yet, when I sit still on a train, my heart races, even when I think of you and her. 

Young woman with an old soul, just waiting for her rebirth. 

I am walking down the street, looking for you. 

My feet drag, and I am counting my breaths. 

In, out. One, two. Three, four. 

I still look for a missing piece of my soul. 

In, out. Five, six. Seven, eight. 

My heart continues to race, even when I look down at the concrete. 

Ghost Letters, p. 3

Dear First Love,

I read the posts you tagged me in everyday since you posted it. I keep fighting with myself to not text you, to not give an inch. All of my friends tell me that I should not budge, that I have to stay still. I’ve stayed still since you left me, but now with these things you’ve been saying, I feel so angry… I ask myself “Isn’t this what you wanted? For the past 3 and a half years, this is what you’ve wanted!” I find myself feeling sick to my stomach. I don’t know what you want, and I don’t know what this means. If you want to work out a friendship, that’s fine. If you want to just find some closure, that’s fine. I understand missing an ex because that’s the story of my life, but you have to talk to me. I have given you so much, I have given you more than an inch in the past. I don’t see the effort here… I don’t sense you trying. If you promised yourself you were going to talk to me, please do it. I am in agony here too. I want to have this closure, I want to simply move forward because I am so tired of feeling stuck. Please talk to me. I’m sick of waiting. 

Love,

Your First Love

The Smell of Rain

The lake was the color of red wine,

and the earth smells of rain.

My skin was tattooed with that smell.

When I walked through the door, you

kissed my skin, and told me you loved the smell

of rain, that you could never leave what you love.

I walked through the garden, an unfamiliar place

within this concrete jungle. I walked through the door,

you kissed my skin, and told me you could never get

used to the smell of flowers. I stood outside in the rain.

Last night, I saw you with her in the garden.

Surrounded by flowers, you kissed her skin.

You got used to the smell.

You never even liked the smell of rain.

The Theory of Everything

With a beautiful mind, you became my theory of everything. The theory that discovered the marriage of time and space– that the world started off as a blackhole, so endless. You were endless. You sucked me in, and I became engulfed in the idea of you. I’ve written you into theory after theory, your mind became an experimental analysis for me to review. What a beautiful mind. The stars aligned, your mind was in the right place, and my theory was supported by where your hands were placed on my waist. I was defeated. I have failed as your scientist. I have proven the theory of everything. You are the theory of everything.

Ghost Letters, p.2

Dear First Love,

It’s been really hard. I don’t know what to do right now. I so badly want to move on, find another person, somebody that isn’t like you; I want to be free. I almost feel guilty for leaving you behind, even though you left me years ago. I still feel you holding me back, and I’m so selfish for feeling this way. I want nothing more than to stop, to cut my emotional tie. I’ve had a lot time to reflect, and I’ve found that I’ve been happier by myself. I found that you were not a necessity in my life. I still write about you, and I still think about you. I wonder what you’re doing, and I wonder if I ever cross your mind like you do in mine. You stroll through my mind– memories flash through my mind. The small memories that I shared with you, the ones that were insignificant in the giant spectrum of us. I’m sorry I keep writing to your ghost. I missed you today. I never did want to keep this feeling. I wish I could give it to somebody else.

 

You never even told me why,

Your First Love

Nothing

He is nothing like you.

There will be nobody compared to you,

and I’m afraid that will always hold me back from trying.

 

He is nothing like you.

Maybe that’s a good thing, maybe a different kind of soul is what’s best

for me.

 

He is nothing like you.

While you are trying to figure it all out by staring at what needs to be done,

he figures it out by getting it done.

 

He is nothing like you,

but when I lay next to him,

he feels just like you.

Letters of Self Love p. 2

WHAT IS IT THAT YOU NEED?

WHAT ARE YOU SEARCHING FOR WHEN EVERYTHING YOU CRAVE,

YOU HAVE WITHIN YOURSELF.

YOU MUST NOT WANT FOR NOTHING, YOU HAVE IT ALL,

YOU ARE FULFILLED.

NO AMOUNT OF OUTSIDE LOVE CAN COMPARE

TO YOUR SELF LOVE.

TO LOVE YOURSELF MEANS SO MUCH MORE THAN

THE LOVE OF SOMEONE ELSE.

DO NOT FORGET THAT, YOUNG SOUL.

YOUR BODY IS YOUR HOME, HE IS ONLY A GUEST

COMING FOR A SHORT VISIT,

DO NOT LET HIM OVERSTAY HIS WELCOME.

THIS IS FOR YOU, SWEET CREATURE.

TO NEVER FORGET YOUR WORTH,

TO NEVER LET GO OF YOUR WARMTH.

Letters of Self Love p. 1

LISTEN TO ME, MY LOVE

YOU ARE MADE OF VELVET LOVE AND THE STARS

THE TWINKLE IN YOUR EYES IS A SIGN OF LOVE,

A SIGN OF GROWTH,

NO MORE STRIFE.

YOU HAVE SEEN IT ALL, MY LOVE.

YOU HAVE SEEN WHAT IS NOT REAL, AND

WHAT MUST NOT BE SPOKEN OF.

LISTEN TO ME, CHILD OF THE STARS,

YOU ARE MADE OF MORE THAN THE RIB OF A MAN– YOU ARE MADE UP OF THE COSMOS

YOUR VOICE IS A SONG THAT OTHERS BEG TO LISTEN TO,

THE SONG THAT BECKONS SAILORS TO SHORE.

REMEMBER TO TREASURE WHO YOU ARE, CHILD OF THE COSMOS.

YOU WERE BORN OF EXPLOSIONS,

YOU WERE BORN TO BE ATOMIC

The Night You Left Was The Night I Became a Woman

The night you left was the night I became a woman. You held me close, and told me how much you had loved me. With both of our shirts off, you pressed my chest closer to yours. This is how I wanted to remember each moment with you. I swear you could probably hear my heart beating. This was such a natural feeling for me. I planted kisses on your chest, neck, cheek… that grew into buds of roses. Your cheeks were always red. Even when you spoke. I believed that you were the greatest gift that God gave me in this awful, violent world. With his own hand, he gave me a piece of gold from heaven. You were gold to me. Empty promises, and false profession of love flowed from your tongue—a waterfall destined to drown me. Death. You spoke on false hope. You spoke while sitting on the highest throne in the kingdom of my soul, and you torched this holy temple. My body was a graveyard of forgotten memories, and I had to hold vigils and funerals for each forgotten soul. My body had collapsed. Although you became my worst nightmare, one that I do not need to sleep in order to experience, your mind still lures me in. Your intelligence reminds me of what I have yet to learn about the world. The way you looked at me was how young lovers looked at each other in the movies. I hope to never forget the time we spent together. Never forget how much I love you. Remember how much you mean to me, and how amazing I think you are. I hope one day I love somebody as much as I thought you loved me.

What it Feels Like to Die

I can’t breathe. It feels like my heart is beating in my throat, as if I have swallowed a million tiny stones. My eyes are stinging, and I cannot breathe and I am blind. My hands are numb, and I can no longer feel your body. My knees cannot hold my body up anymore, and I fall to the ground, weak and without any more energy. My heart swells with the pain you caused, and it ruptures. You walk towards me with the words that killed me right in your hands, and you read them to me over my dead body like a priest giving me my last rights. You are preparing me for my next life with my God. You reach down, brush your fingers through my hair and say, “I still love you.” My eyes start to sting a little more. I am still dead, and I still love you.