She didn't know what happiness was;

what it felt like,

looked like.

She didn't know what it did to your head,

your heart.

She had never gotten a taste

of the elusive, talked about feeling,

the one that was supposed to make her forget pain

and smile so widely people thought she was high.

The one that would make her want to get out of bed,

hangout with her friends,

or just compliment the cashier when she got her coffee.

She often wondered what her malfunction was.

Why she was the only one

who was perpetually,

cripplingly sad?

She took her vitamins,

slept enough,

was surrounded by love-

yet.

Yet the sun made her wince,

her future made her sick

and life seemed torn between dull and nerve-racking.

Never in a million years would you have thought

the girl was having such a confusing time

because she did smile.

She got out of bed and grumbled just enough.

She said nice things to strangers,

she took the pills they gave her,

she encouraged others to put down the razor,

get off the ledge,

to stop reaching down their throat.

No one worried because there wasn't a reason for her to be anything but happy.

The truth was she should be happy.

She just wasn't.

I wish she loved herself, like I love her.

I’m not sure what she’s mad about

when she tells me, she’s sleeping on the couch.

Something that night, just didn’t feel right.

I get out of bed and flip on the light,

and find my nightmare has became real life.

Empty bottle of vodka, empty bottle of pills.

My bottle of benzo’s, just been refilled.

I call 911, they send cops, EMS,

and I follow lights of the ambulance.

Lights spinning, head spinning,

I can’t think. I can’t breathe.

I can’t breathe , I can’t breathe.

Park in the garage and I find a feather.

Walking the hospital halls I find more feathers

Waiting outside ICU, I find feathers.

Someone told me…

Angels are near when feathers appear.

Finding the feathers felt like a sign.

I didn’t know the meaning but still felt divine.

My lover recovered but struggled with recovery.

I loved her and she loved me.

Told her the story & feathers became “our thing”

She would wear them on chains and earrings.

We had our ups and downs.

During benders I remember,

finding feathers on the ground.

The sun still shines during stormy weather.

It gave me a lil hope that things will get better.

About a year later, I wasn’t there to save her,

and the love of my life took her own.

Until she passed on, I never felt alone.

Even with friends and family, I still felt alone.

Even if infront of a crowd, behind a microphone,

I still felt alone.

So…

I’d hide in the cave and I’d isolate.

Eyes give me away, so I’d hide behind shades.

If I didn’t, I’d get asked, ‘are you okay?’

My eyes are re(a)d, my eyes are blue.

My eyes tell no lies, so I’d hide the truth.

If I could,I would, have worn a mask.

When I see my reflection, all I see is scars.

Someone told me,

Angels are near when feathers appear.

Somedays were dark, somedays were darker.

Somedays were hard, somedays were harder.

Somedays were bad and somedays were worse.

I could go days, weeks, and maybe months,

and somedays the hurt, hurt too much.

When I felt like I couldn’t take any more,

I’d look down and find a feather on the floor.

Maybe I look down more when I’m down,

but it's a breathe of air when I fear drown.

Whether the feather is a sign or symbol, I feel better.

@fatbellybella told me I have a guardian angel.

I know when I’m down, something picks me up.

I always find a feather on a bad day,

outside my door on my birthday,

on stage when I DJ, on tour at venues I played.

I makes me feel like everything will be okay,

and I’ll make it another day.

Winter eventually does become spring.

So now,

my quils come from angel wings.

Everyday I ask God for a reason to live and everyday God gives me one.

Somedays it was big and somedays it was small.

When signs were small, they caused the most awe.

Somedays I'd just feel it and not see it at all.

Every once in awhile it was Meghan's smile.

Meghan's smile would chase my clouds away,

so everyday I would make the girl laugh.

Somedays were good and somedays were bad,

but the good days were some of the best I ever had.

On bad days, I memorized the Serenity Prayer.

When things were too much to bear, she was there.

She'd rub my back and sing me sweet serenades,

and it made me feel like everything be okay,

and for a little while all the world's problems went away,

and now..she's passed away.

Dear God, let me be okay.

Little Irish girl, Russian vodka bottle.

She lost the war, but fought a valiant battle.

Addiction and depression can be a lethal combination.

Booze became the answer back in her teens.

Blackouts that vaporized realities like dreams.

Inward anger turned to outward rage.

The ones she loved most got the most hate,

and let me tell you, she loved me a lot.

Bad things happen when you run out of hope.

I've been there. I know.

When I first heard my first urge was to go Romeo.

Depression is like quicksand,

and sometimes you can't see out reached hands,

when you think you're alone in the dark.

Dear God, let me be okay.

Every night before I go to sleep,

I pray I see her in a dream.

Life is now a sad sad song on repeat.

I'm hollow, so hollow.

I'm hollow, so hollow.

I feel empty and I may just implode.

I'm lost and don't know where to go.

Everything I do and everything I see,

reminds me that she's not here with me.

This mo(u)rning, there ain't not sunshine.

Inside jokes no longer have punchlines.

Memories of sunshine and rain flood my mind.

I'm cold and alone in the middle of summertime,

but

everyday I ask God to give me a reason to live,

and everyday God gives me one.