I think the saddest word in the english language is

Almost.

We have so many words for sadness

Blue

Melancholy

Sorrowful

somber

Bitter

Weeping

Sorry

Dejected

heartbroken

Broken.

You can count them like stars until you fall asleep,

But almost is

Unfinished

Not quite

Just about

Anything.

Almost is what could have been.

What almost happened.

So close, and yet so far.

Almost is

a missed throw

Burnt toast

A flat note

Bottled tears

a candle blown out before you could pick up any more matches.

She almost lived her dream.

He almost didn’t break the lamp.

They almost had fun today.

He almost missed the train that crashed.

She almost got to the hospital in time.

I almost loved you.

I wonder if you will ever read this?

You don’t know who you are,

But I do. And you don’t know

Who I am either. Well,

Not really.

You know what I’ve told you. You know

What you’ve pieced together from my stories

Like a jigsaw puzzle. But if I really told you,

If I ever got up the courage. You would like me

Even less.

You don’t know what I’m thinking right now. As much

As that would make it easier. As much as I want you to.

You know my name. That’s true,

But really, what else could I say.

If you knew, would you have wanted me to tell you?

I’m not sure.

You don’t know about the you that I do. The

You that holds my hand and walks on the beach with me and

Makes really good cookies. And if you did,

Well I’m not sure what I’d want you to think.

You see, when I write to you, about you, around you,

I really do want you to read it. But I’m afraid that you wouldn’t know it’s you.

I’m even more afraid that you would.

If you ever did read this, you would probably want to know

That it’s about you. You’d probably want me to write out your name.

An action so simple that all it would take would be a few keys. And

Maybe, I should. But

I’m scared.

Because you…

Well I like you.

And I’m never going to tell you that.

I want to be cold

So cold that you could not warm me up even if you had

Twelve patterned blankets

Three pillows (yellow, not the red ones because those are too thin)

Two pairs of fluffy winter socks

One old fraying quilt with the stitches falling out (even though you’ve gone over them with new thread)

Two blue sweatshirts

One broken heating pad

And all of the cut up sweatpants in the world

But I’m not cold

And it’s summer

And much to my dismay,

I will probably not be cold for a long time

I am the

Old

Fuzzy

Orange that you left on your windowsill

Three weeks ago

Planning to eat me for lunch

But then you got dinner with a friend at that new cafe

And it

Rained

Through the screen of your cracked window

The one with the

Chipped blue

Cup beside it

Now

I am

A warm green tinted with red

Like the tile on your kitchen floor

But

You’re thinking about changing them to blue

And there’s that splotch of brown

The spill from

Tuesday’s

Yellow coffee cup

The one you forgot to wash and left above the microwave

The one you use

To catch rain

That

Sometimes

Falls

From that pipe in your sink

But you don’t quite have the energy to fix it

You

Just

Don’t

Quite have the energy to throw me out

Come with me

take my hand and curl

your fingers around mine.

The road may be dark

but I'll lead the way.

You need not worry,

I have done this many times before-

You know me

all too well.

I will care for you

down this dark and winding path,

lit with broken down street lamps and

lined with cold clouded puddles.

Why do you frown?

I will help you. You need not be afraid.

I will make you better, my friend.

It is alright to ask for help,

I will always be here.

You have a disease,

but that's alright.

I will help you get better.

You are in chaos, my friend,

But I will create order.

I will help you make meticulous rules

So that you never have to worry.

Simply follow the rules,

And you will be fixed.

Getting better will take time,

It’s okay for it to hurt

If it will make you better.

Order is key,

My friend.

Soon, you will be perfect.

Just listen to me.

Your hollow cheeks will shine

With dedication and a smile

As we walk this path together.

You will be everything you have ever dreamed of;

All you need is my order.

Write it down if you need to,

On every piece of paper you can.

You need me.

I will make you better.

No, don’t pull away,

You know what will happen the moment you stop listening.

You remember the last time, don’t you?

When you stopped listening to me?

It didn’t go well, did it?

Don’t even try to pretend you felt alright.

It may hurt to listen to me, but that was worse.

You need me,

And that’s okay, I won’t judge.

Love,

Anna

I will be with you

Till the end.

They are standing together

Close enough to hear each others breathing.

Their hands are clasped.

Fingers intertwined

Like the branches of loondi trees that have grown too close together

and need to be seperated.

Their bare feet warm the grass.

Soft toes float like pebbles in a stream

Tied down not by anchored plants

But by heat floating off of their bodies.

The warm starlight gleams yellow across their faces

Echoed by the rivers of constellations in their eyes.

They look far out

Eyes scanning the mountains below

With their flitting purple birds diving low above the deep red grass

To smell tall yellow flowers growing blue in the late season.

Sounds ring out all around them

From the gentle burble of streams

and the tender bending of gleaming leaves to the gentle breeze.

Their masks soft whirr humming like the wings of the smallest insects

The ones that are barely larger thair their palms.

They turn to each other now, smiling from ear to ear,

And a tinkling sound fills the air like a sound long forgotten.

They are so alone here

The only things to have walked upright on these mountains

For a long while.

Indeed,

It has been a long time

since everyone left.

Why is it that we can never say it?

The word that hangs over us like a dark cloud

Lightning crackling within its breast.

It stabs at our thoughts,

Repeating over and over again until its

Echoes have left imprints upon our eyelids.

The word spells itself out in our favorite places

Places made of light and dreams and twisting hair in the wind

Wanting to wrap us up within itself and never open its loving arms.

It is the word we see in the alphabet soup

We will most likely never eat.

But we will hold our hands to the sides of the bowl

Letting the warmth sink into our frigid skin.

It is the word etched into some our our arms

Drawn into some of our notebooks

Twisted into some of our ropes.

It is a word made of gargantuan waves

Towering over us on the open water of the sea.

Crashing down upon us and enveloping us within its soft and warm embrace.

It is that word which sends people scrambling for answers

When they even suspect us of acting in it’s torrid love affair.

The word rains down upon us when we feel alone

Showering us in its devoted affections

Drying our tears.

It is the word that kisses our foreheads at midnight

Gently holding out its hand for us to take.

It is the word upon all of our lips

Dripping from our bloodstained hands

Swaying gently in ropes over chairs that have been knocked over

Rolling in our broken and jagged bones

Calling our names from empty bottles upon bathroom cabinets

Fondly running its hands through our waterlogged hair

Soothing us with flames licking at our flesh

Crying our names over the roar of the sea

We are lost lovers destined to meet.

It loves us with everything it has and ever will be

And we love it more.

If I could go anywhere

I’d go to the highest cliff

above the sea.

Covered with spiny bushes

red flowers

sandy jagged rocks

shells

and rays of sunlight

from the setting sun.

The wind from the sea

swirling sand above

the rocks.

And I’d jump.

Wrap your warms arms around me

and squeeze.

Watch the sunrise with me

Let the colors wash over us.

Listen to the birds chirp in

The new light.

Look up in the middle of the day

And see the moon within the clouds.

Walk on the beach with me

Sand between our toes.

And count the stars with me

One

Two

Three

Four...

Untill I fall asleep

And live to see tomorrow.

Butterflies flit through my heart

purple

And

Green

and

orange

And golden

And shimmering and

Black and blue and spotted and

Dripping with blood.