Broken and barely beating,

I gave you my heart.

I did not foresee myself wanting you to want it

but I had nothing left to offer,

a friend

than my beaten and bloodied heart.

I'd have given you one of my hands

but they had been severed

from holding on too long

to loose threads of lives that weren't mine

I'd have given you my legs

if I’d had them to offer,

but dance had claimed them long ago,

stuffed them into tan tights

and tan shoes

and they ran off together.

I’d have given you my voice,

if I’d had one,

but she was taken away

and declared insane

after too many screams

fell upon deaf ears.

I'd have given you my brain

if it was mine to give,

but my thoughts were

overrun, overcrowded, overwhelmed,

overall, not mine.

So, I had nothing left to offer,

but my heart,

tired of beating.

The only part of me

no one seemed to want.

I’ve watched it fall from

hand to hand,

pocket to pocket, alone,

collecting dust on shelves

and drying out in drawers.

No one ever thought to store my heart by their own.

You took the my of my heart,

but you too, didn’t want it,

so you left it to rot on a table by your bedside.

How could something so close evade your gaze so often?

The quick looks and passing glances

were all I thought there should be,

it was blackened

and cold

and decaying

but it was yours to have,

still is,

should you ever change your mind.

Time has tempted me to take it back,

but

I did not foresee myself wanting you

to want it.

Why must I crave for affection and still want to avoid everyone at the same time?

Why must I feel like people are gonna abandon me one day and I still yet to cling onto them every day?

Why am I afraid that they're gonna hurt me, and yet I still crave for their affection?

I'm afraid of closeness.

Yet I'm also afraid of abandonment.

I'm afraid of affection.

Yet I'm also afraid of drifting.

I don't want more friends.

Yet I'll be lonely.

I want to have a best friend.

Yet they could hurt me.

I just want to feel understood.

It's tiring.

I don't know why it's this memory that sticks out to me so vibrantly. One summer afternoon, not too late, perhaps two or so I'd gone to visit a cousin. I live in Texas so the air simmered, June bugs providing a scorching melody capping off an aesthetic. I had to have been in middle school, when I brought along a small, blue spiral journal full to bursting in black ink with my story ideas. I was hoping to get feedback and pitch ideas to better solidify each one in my mind. Only it rained that day afterward, and when we could finally go back outside to get it the pages had become moist, grey I could have lost all that work. I was lucky it had been a brief seasonal shower. But that isn't important.

Within the time there was still sun and I was no older than twelve or thirteen years old there were three of us. Myself, my cousin whose house we were in Jesus Antonio-- fondly and universally addressed To-no(with the Mexican n with the dash)-- and younger than us both Aaliyah. Was it a plan or was it spontaneity once we'd decided fooling around sparking a fire in the barrel had been a good idea? I'm not entirely sure. Either way, we had the marshmallows, we had graham crackers, and we had three prongs one for each to place the cooking mellows on.

What I do remember that day is how vibrant their expansive yard seemed. How it's green just popped to my eyes. That particular Uncle owns a ranch you see, allowing for the typical backyard with a large, old tree that was an enormous undertaking when we'd been toddlers. That Tono had dared to climb, to my chagrin. There was the typical storage for tools, feed, the mower, and it smelled bad, somewhat of poop. The bugs were relentless, attracted to water and a multitude of earthy hidey-holes. But there was also the dusty plain called the middle. I don't know what the old cars or trailers or RV had been for, perhaps its just where they'd all happened to die. There was another, wider, bigger storage shed sometimes used as our own base of co-op for roleplaying games. Other times a rest stop. Where just beside us teased yet more property where the animals actually were and even a lake!

I knew all this. Either from exploring for myself or second-hand. I loved his home, I loved to play and run after him. We loved venturing out to where the cows and the stallions and mares were, exploring, imagining, laughing even as we scraped skin off our arms or stabbed a foot by accident.

In that day, to simply be with them and be in that heavy, rustic air surrounded by good company and the promise of candy... could that be when my love reached it's peak? My love for his company, barely understanding just how exquisite it was despite years spent in each other's orbit? When one of his many sisters provided the chocolate we were surely ecstatic. I knew I was. S'mores. Real s'mores right out of cartoons and commercials and books.

We spent a lot of time together, we laughed, we goofed, we said each and every thing that would make a grown-up balk. When I was with my cousins there was always reason to enjoy their company. Maybe not all the time, maybe not most of the time but the moments where our personalities simply drift, in the small, minute moments we can simply be together and be in sync just makes the chocolate sweeter, the marshmallow a little less overpowering. The heat, all the more of a pleasant sting on exposed skin.

I enjoyed a campfire that day. I got to enjoy the quiet moment where in the crannies between the silence we were content to leave it that way. I'm not sure if they noticed then or if they see now, how rare it is when ourselves so perfectly come to match. We were happy with each other and it was fun! We all got a turn toasting marshmallows. Some even caught-- by a wick-- on actual fire!

It had been careful work to get each melted mellow on a cracker, completed each by two units of small Hershey's chocolate.

Once the crackers were gone and the plate was full we retreated to the kitchen just beyond the back door we'd gone out, to enjoy the spoils and cool off.

It was divine to feel the cool AC after that long in Texas sun. There was a TV above the kitchen table. One that had gone forgotten for a few years. Back then there'd also been a swanky and proudly sized TV in the living room too. But that day, it was the kitchen Tv we turned to YouTube while each enjoying a s'more.

I didn't completely understand all the music, and swear words still displeased me, but it was funny and the talk flowed seamless anyway so it hardly mattered. They even let me go on about my story journal.

I used to proudly think myself strong

That no matter how tough life can get, I will always know where I belong

I used to think of my feet as roots ,far beneath the earth binding me to my truth

Strong and wild stretching all across the land, a testament to my everlasting youth

I’ve lived in dreamland quite often throughout the years

Fought demons and dragons and mourned my loved ones with bloody tears

I thought I would be ready for anything, that I could take on the world

That my heart was strong and my mind will never be stirred

Thinking back on it now, how foolish I have been

No matter how old they get, you can never, a child from their parents Wean

It has been 2,028 days since tragedy struck my soul

My time froze on that day, and I have been constantly losing control

I tend to block the memories to be honest with you

I’m yet to fully reconcile that there was nothing else that I could do

But every time I think I found some peace of mind

I’m haunted by the ghosts of my past, forever confined

I remember that day as if time has never passed

How could it, when I have been trapped all along, aghast

He came back home like always, and I opened the door

As if With my hands I blew the horns of my eternal war

For the first time I didn’t look him in the eyes

Taking for granted the times we shared, not ready for the upcoming surprise

Suddenly I heard the call,

The sounds he used to make whenever the episodes, him befall

However this time the silence was long and deafening

Unable to fathom the loud truth , the air unsettling

And I ran!

Like a madman escaping the prison of solitude, I ran

Barefoot, cold, fuming with freezing heat my strife just began

I never knew fear like the terror that flowed in my blood on that freezing night

As if on overdrive every organ underneath my skin and bones was ready to fight

Knocking on doors I never seen the like of before

Desperate for anything that could pick me up from the sinking floor

But you see, when our eyes turn blind and our voices turn silent

Deep within our genes the truth screams to come to the surface unbent

I started to hate things I used to love so badly before

Car rides in the dark when the deafening silence my heart tore

I prayed that night like a devout saint my heart was stripped naked and bleeding

To not take him away, for this to be a nightmare , in vain pleading

But fate had a plan for him without me in his life

It seemed like the game was over and the player did not survive

They say that fear like a plague invaded the heart and the mind

Once it takes over, the old you will forever, in the past, be left behind

There's nothing more beautiful than the moon

On a hot summer night in June

With the bugs out wild, feasting

And words that keep repeating

Until nothing else needs to be said

We can just lie like we're dead

And wait for the call to run inside

For it is a beautiful night tonight

“What’s wrong?” She asked. The pain of the text is still fresh in my mind. It hadn’t even been two days. What else could be wrong?

“Nothing, don’t worry about it,” I said, knowing that responding would only make tomorrow that much harder. “I’m fine.” I quickly typed out that second message before she could respond. The tears splashed down on the bright screen. I clenched the phone in my hands, watching the bottom corner, my heart thumped as I waited for those three little bubbles. Just block her. Get it over with. She’s not coming back… but what if she does? That little bit of hope. The ‘I still love you,’ text from the other night, was just enough, because what if she does come back?

“Please?” Her text asked simply. “I’m sorry,” the second text chimed through.

My fingers hovered over the keypad, a cloud of emotions hovered behind my eyes. What was I supposed to say? Loving her has been nothing but pain.

“For which part?” I typed it out and sent it before I could even fully think about it.

“What do you mean?” She asked, her text coming through instantly. Did she feel the same way I did? Did she regret her decision? Was her phone shaking her hands, and her tears blurring out the words?

“Which part are you sorry for?” This time my finger hovered over the send button, before moving up to delete the message. “Nevermind, don’t worry about it,” I said instead.

“Please, talk to me,” she said. “I still love you, what’s going on?”

My fingers dug into the sides of my phone. Long-distance relationships are a bitch. What, am I supposed to tell her that if I knew the magic words that would get her back, I’d tell them to her every night? Am I supposed to say that if I knew how to get her to see herself the way that I see her, then she’d feel like the most beautiful girl in the world? Or that every second I spent not talking to her, was spent planning our lives together? Or maybe I should tell her that not kissing her every day was pain, and not holding her every night was pain that tore at me every second. I could tell her that when I look at the sky, all I can do is think of her, and there’s nothing I want more than to hold her hand and sing terribly to our favorite songs. I could tell her that I would spend every second of every day I breathe going through that pain if it meant I could still call her mine. I would go through it all if I could still wake up to those good morning texts, those rare nights of her hair in my face, listening to her snore. But I know deep down that even if I could get her back by saying all of those things, I’d be constantly scared of the next breakup text. Maybe it’s worth it if it buys me one more night. For a moment I consider typing it out and telling it all. But I took a deep breath and powered down my phone, and tried to get some sleep.

The answer isn't that simple, it's not a choice or because you were born into them. By that I mean love of any kind is constantly evolving. At first it may be because you were born into your family but as life goes on it kind of evolves into a choice. Sure there may be strong biological ties, but you have to choose to love them. You have to choose that even on the bad days they are worth it. At first though you love your family because they are all you know and they brought you into this world. Later on though it's because you want somebody to love you back.