April is sadness

a reminder of my grief

the death of a friend

gives suicide contagion

ever constant funerals

April has showered me in alizarin nightmares

a crescendo of voices that pummel me into blasphemy

wishing, waiting, wanting for my heart not to ache, not to break

holding, having, hoping that the May flowers to come are those of the open glade

rather than the poisons of hemlock and nightshade

and I wonder when I'm supposed to trying

to cross this invisible line you seem to have drawn in the sand

when do I give up on twelve years of history

when do I stop extending out my hand

I keep falling back on this olive branch

of another text, another call

another reminder that I can't be the one to do it all

and I'm sure I'll get a text on my birthday with

"I miss you, let's make plans"

But you never replied to the text I sent back

and canceled twice on the plans we made last

and you showed up to the funeral when my grandmother died

because you were home and your mother dragged you along

and I wanted to take that as a sign that you cared anyway

but I never got another text

and my snapchat was left open on read

and I understand if you want to stop trying

but please just try telling me that instead

they say you have piano fingers, life gave you a doctor's scrawl

and I think it's elegant the way you pretend to lift your pinky when you drink

you tap your fingers when you're nervous, a steady beat against your palm

and your mom hates it when you crack your knuckles

but I like the way it makes your fingers pulse and your arms flex

a small and private showing of what your hands might do next

and your fingers are methodical

they count every freckle on my cheek, on my shoulder, down my back

and life gave you a blessing with hands that pulsate heat

I was given ice to match the fire that lives within your fingers and your palms

and I think its nice when your hand takes mine

our fingers laced together in a tapestry of life

Give me lilac lullabies, the nostalgia of my youth

Bring me daisy daydreams, for the secrets that I'll keep

Wrap me in blue hyacinth, to know I'll always stay

Crown me in your ivy wreaths, a matching pair we'll make

and even in the moments, that you're giving what I take

I'll cull meaning for myself in bittersweet and sage

Valuing the thought that counts and what they can never say

What do you want me to say?

That I can't make eye contact with myself in the mirror without starting to cry

That my therapist saw me twice before telling me goodbye, deciding for herself that I was okay

That my grandmother can't remember my name

That she asks to be shot every time that I see her

and that every time she says it

I get flashbacks to just a few months ago and a phone call

and all of the people I know that have come too close to that edge

only for some of them to fall

But I can't bring any of that up

Because even if she knew, she wouldn't remember

And at least she's still breathing

and I'm sorry

That I got defensive in the game we were playing

and I know everything you did was meant in good fun

and I'm sorry

That it went down the way it did

But it still hurt

and I'm trying not to cry and instead just politely say good night

and I'm sure the look in your eyes isn't meant to say go away

But that's how it feels

and I'm sorry

and talking about it is supposed to make me feel better

But all it does is remind of all of the things that I'm not saying

That I don't know how to say

Because how do you say to your parents just months after telling them that a second friend of yours is dead

That four more of them have tried, only they walked away

and that I can name more people I know who have been sexually assaulted than I have fingers to count on

and that the people that you think that I have to count on are just ghosts in my world

But I have to be fine

because these things aren't happening to me and everyone else has bigger fish to fry right now

Because the medication she's on is less anxiety and more depression

and she's two weeks away from what's going to be the rest of her life

and she's my grandma but she's his mom

and I'm not the one being asked to hold the gun

and I'm breathing

I'm fine

If January had shattered me like glass

February was the shards that were left upon the floor

we were short, and sharp, and dangerous

leaving scars upon both of our hearts

broken broken broken

and there was no winner in our desperate grasp for freedom

shadowed by the force in which we crashed to the ground

You were red- a cherry, burning red

and I was blue- ice cold, leaching color

and together all we were was

broken broken broken

pieces of shatter glass upon the floor

we were one-sided

you were blindsided

I was afraid of loving you

we were two paths already diverged

in a moment that we thought was merged

but instead was just crossing by

you low and me high

already knowing that it was goodbye

we hadn't even yet said hello

and I was already thinking about how to let you go

and I'm sorry that I didn't let you know

that I let you think

that I let you dream

that I let you wonder what our life could be

but we were one-sided

and not in the way of you only loving me

but in the way that we both wanted

we just wanted things differently

we were two paths already diverged

in a moment that we thought was merged

but instead was just crossing by

you low and me high

one-sided

blindsided

Sometimes I'm reminded of why I liked him

and it's like drowning and thinking I can swim

It makes me feel like it's a good idea

like maybe I should jump back in

Maybe this time we'll swim

because its times like these and you're laughing and we're crying

and being friends feels like it's easy

That I feel like trying

and I know we crashed and we fell

between poison and thorns

rushing forward onto our own swords

and if we try again

I'm sure we'll sink to the floor

left to crash in the waves of our worry and doubt

yet I'm still left to wonder

what it might feel like to swim