defeated

i’ve given up
on you,
but,
for the
record, love,
you gave up
on me
first.

whilst i was
struggling to
keep our heads
above the water
for the both
of us
you have left
me there to drown.

i was no longer
fighting along
side you.
this was no longer
our battle.
you’ve raised
your white flag
to surrender
without my
knowledge
and suddenly,
i was all alone
in front of
an army of
thousands.

still i did not
wave my white flag.

but i am tired.
i am exhausted.
and there’s little
to nothing left
inside of me
to continue
swimming,
to continue
fighting this
losing battle
so
i have given up
on you…
on us
but to set things
straight
maybe there
wasn’t even
an us

for you did
not let it be,
for you decided
to walk away
long before
it even had
the chance
to begin.

Y

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the clock has stopped

i look at you
and my heart breaks
slowly but surely
little by little.
every intake of breath,
a struggle for you.
and i
don’t have the strength
to watch
but there’s also
a part of me that longs
to spend
every second of the day
with you.
i don’t know
how much time you have left.
i admit that i am weak
that i am not strong enough
to say goodbye,
to let go,
but the clock is ticking, my angel
and i may not have
that much of choice
the very situation is
forcing me to be strong
in front of you
but once the doors are closed
and i am alone
everything crumbles.

Y
for Tiny (May 2007-October 23, 2016)

answer me

how do you move on
when the very thing
that you have kept
tucked, hidden, stored, locked
at the very bottom of your soul
resurfaces, shoots out, opens, returns
at 2:04 in the morning as
you lay in bed and couldn’t
(but you know that you should)
sleep
sleep is such a foreign,
strange little thing of a word

how do you move on?
do you toss and you turn
on your bed until the sandman arrives?
but then you remember how
he used to say that you
sleep like a martial artist
preparing for a spar
once you’ve even
given him a black eye
twice you’ve kneed
him in the groin
you remember how he
isn’t a fan of cuddling in bed but
still he wraps his arms around
you after a rough day
until you fall asleep
it was one of the best sleeps
of your life

how do you move on?
do you scroll through social media?
but then you find yourself
staring at his profile page
you see that the last post
was from his mother
saying that she misses him
every
single
day
just like you
you miss him too
the previous posts were from friends
months ago just after the accident

how do you move on?
do you binge watch movie trailers
do you get up and do chores
do you throw away the engagement ring
do you ugly cry
do you drink that last bottle of beer in the fridge
do you count the cracks on the wall
do you-

something interrupts you
.
.
.
the alarm clock
7 A.M.
you get up
you wipe the tears
you get ready for the day
you tuck, you hide, you store, you lock
and you just know deep down
at the very bottom of your soul
that you’d still be asking that
very same question later on tonight

how do you move on?
.
.
.
maybe you just don’t.

-Y

this dance

i don’t know what to do or say
you have kept me in the dark,
and i in return
we have been dancing around this for far too long
neither are saying words that would end up complicating things
we are flirting through Facebook likes, Twitter and Instagram hearts
when we see each other, we act like there is nothing going on
even though we’ve talked for hours the night before
that we.
are.
just.
friends.
friends do not hold hands
with fingers intertwined,” they tell me
friends do not kiss,” they tell me
friends do not act like everything
is fine after a kiss like that,” they tell me
i am praying to the gods that you do not
hear how loud my heart is beating when i am with you
what does this mean?
i have been told by others that there is something
but i am too afraid to expect anything from you
but some days, oh, those days,
i let myself just do that,
i let myself think that we are an us
but darling, the music hasn’t stopped
so let’s continue to dance around this a little while longer.

Y

Voiced Thoughts

When people tell me that I think too much,
I think,
Oh, honey, you don’t even know the half of it.”
Yes, I think it,
not utter the words for you to hear.
Am I depriving you
of the bittersweet pleasure
of my unvoiced thoughts?
Or saving you from hearing
just how much I question everything?
How much my thoughts go from
I wonder what I’ll be having for lunch later to
I wonder what it feels like to die?
To no longer breathe
and exist.
Is it really true
that your entire life
flashes right before your very eyes?
Is it kind of like going to sleep, or an endless dream?
But knowing that you’ll never wake up?
I question the pettiest things like
was orange
first a fruit or a color?
Why is it called a “building” when
it’s already built?
I wonder why pink is for girls
while blue is for boys.
Isn’t that a little unfair?
Why is life so unfair?
I wonder how the people
who we call our public officials
whose empty promises we’ve been hearing nonstop
get to sleep at night
when there are people out on the street
begging for money or for food.
And I wonder how I turn a blind eye
every time they ask.
I question good days and bad days.
I question the existence of racism, sexism,
cancer, corruption, wars and so much more.
I question how words were first formed.
Why is love called love?
Did the genius who
thought of joining the letters
L,
O,
V,
and E
knew that such a word would be one of the things
we’d live and fight for?
Was love first a word or was it first felt?
Sometimes I think my thoughts
can save the world,
Sometimes I think my thoughts won’t
contribute a thing to society.
Sometimes, I think.. my thoughts will forever remain inside my head.
Unvoiced.
Unheard.
Unwritten.
Screaming, wanting, needing,
to be voiced, heard, and written.
But for now,
I let my thoughts eat me up
and consume me.
Day by day.
Slowly.
Carefully.


When people tell me that I think too much,
I am this close to asking,
Why aren’t you?”

-Y

AUs

do you believe in alternate universes?
because I do.
i’d like to think that all my lost hopes,
wishes, and dreams come true there.
in another earth, i’m an astronaut.
i get to wish upon stars a
wee bit closer than before.
in some other dimension, i’m a superhero.
i get to fight crime and maybe even
be a member of the Justice League.
in a different world, i’m an author.
i actually finished writing
a novel length story and  got it published.
in an alternate universe, i’m an animator.
i get to work at disney or dreamworks
or wherever because either way, i’ll
still be living the dream.

do you believe in alternate universes?
because I do.
i’d like to think that all my lost hopes,
wishes, and dreams come true there.
in another earth,
i could’ve had made a stand.
in some other dimension,
i might’ve had taken the risk.
in a different world,
i would’ve had the courage.
then, maybe then, only then…
in that one particular alternate universe,
i, at least, get to have you.
but not in this universe,
not anymore.

-Y

To you, Anon

Words can hurt.

Words can hurt as hell.

It can break you, crush you, destroy you if you let it. I don’t know why I’m writing this. I have no idea where this is going. All I know is that I need to get this, whatever this is, out of my system. I can feel it consuming me and I do not like a single bit of it.

An hour ago I found myself crying on my bathroom floor because of words. Because of your words. Because of how a single person’s opinion affected me and my writing. And holy hell it affected me all right. I know for a fact that I cannot please every single goddamn person out there and I am not planning to, but if you think for one second that trying to bring me down will actually bring me down? Then you do not know me at all. You may have had me there for a minute or two but let me tell you this, you can try as many times as you want but I will always find a way to get back up. Insult me all you want, call me names, ridicule the things I treasure the most and what I am most passionate at. Do whatever you please. I may cry. Scratch that, I will cry because it will hurt; knowing that something I’ve poured my heart into will be trampled upon by the likes of you.

You’ve almost turned me into someone I did not want to be.

Almost.

I’ve met you so many times, in different forms, in different ways, and I do not understand why you do what you do. You have rendered me speechless one too many times. I’ve wasted my tears for you one too many times. I’ve asked myself what was wrong with me, what was wrong with my words that made you hate them as if it was your life’s duty to hate every single thing I write. I honestly thought that you were just a thing of the past, a nightmare forgotten, but I found you, or rather you found me once again and you tell me words that will break me and make you happy. And… I don’t know. I just don’t. Should I understand you? Should I forgive you? Do you want to be forgiven?

I’ve hated myself for a very long time because of you.

Not anymore.

A friend of mine told me I should just ignore you and I’m trying. You’re just ridiculously hard to forget. You’re no good for me, but I can’t seem to get you out of my mind.

You mean, ignorant, hateful you.

I hope you find joy in your life and not in ways that you’ve been doing to me… to people just like me.

Well then… until your words meet mine again.

-Y