Letting Go, Continued.

If you're out there somewhere, I hope the

wind is blowing and the trees are swaying as the

crickets sing and the sun shines designs on damp pavement.

I hope that you're walking barefoot, if you're out there

somewhere; you'd want to feel the pebbles between your

toes as you balance and dance away the ground.

I hope that wherever you are, if you're there, you

get up early enough to pick basil from your sweet garden

and watch the sunrise cross your face.

If you're out there somewhere, I hope the stars are

shining on your neck and the moonlight carries you across

the sky every night while you conduct a symphony in your veins.

I hope that if you're somewhere, you feel the cool

ocean lap across your feet and hear the waves crash in your

ears; I hope you get a little sea salt in your hair.

I hope that wherever you are, you're looking

at flowers more and looking at lightning the most. I hope

that spring comes after every single winter.

I hope you're smiling, wherever you are.

I hope it's a real smile because I saw too

many fake ones those last few months and

as much as it hurt all of us, it hurt you the most.

Wherever you are, I hope more than anything that

you know I love you. I hope you know that you're the reason for

everything I do.

I hope you know that while the sun still shines here,

it seems a little duller, but that may just be because you

needed a little piece of the sun to take with you.

The ocean is a little cooler, the sound it makes a little dimmer,

but that's okay because as long as you have a piece

for yourself, I am fine.

Sometimes I'm angry, angry at the world

angry at myself and

more embarrassingly, angry at you.

I pick fights with God, even though I know

it's completely possible I'm picking fights with myself.

Every night, I see a glimmer of hope because

I know as soon as my head hits the pillow,

it will be a short time until I see

your face in my memory.

Some days are harder, some days blissful as the

warm soup you used to make me that

day when you told me,

I was the reason for you.

I want to remember and I still

don't because the pain of that day is still

fresh in my mind but I know that my biggest

fear is forgetting.

I saw you not too long ago, I was rowing a boat.

I can remember that.

You were wearing your flowery, sparkly shirt and your

tan slacks. You were with Nick.

You said to me, as I gave up hope,

"Don't burn your bridges before you cross them,

you never know what's on the other side."

I pulled harder to that finish line than I ever had before,

maybe it was out of hope, maybe it was out of desperation

to talk to you.

I've never crossed a finish line laughing and

crying at the same time so maybe God

does exist in that small moment,

my watch stopped because you wanted me

to take pictures in my mind of that.

I'll remember. You need to remember too though:

Wherever you are, I hope you know I'm okay.

Well maybe.

But I try to be.

I'm okay.

I choke out the words everyday, but I promise,

I'll be okay.

I hope you are.

I love you, but I have to let go now.

You Gave Me Scars Because, Honestly, YOU'RE AN ASSHOLE. But, thanks for them.

Take my paper, ribbon, glued back together a billion fucking times heart and sure, why don't you rip it one more time? I went to the doctor yesterday and when she asked "any pains" I pointed to my chest. Instantly I was on a little metal gurney being rushed around the way bees buzz around a hive or the way little innocent ants scatter a hill. The lights whooshed over my face and surrounded by men in white lab coats they were yelling things like STAT and OXYGEN and then I was thrown around, like that hasn't happened before, mind you, on a cold table covered by some crinkly waxed paper and without warning they cut me open. I screamed in agony but in actuality it was pleasure because at least it was something other than what I have been feeling for the past 36 hours. 36 hours. I heard them slice my skin, pry apart my bones with a deafening crack and the whole time all I thought was that the slice they made is nothing compared to the slice you made with your cruel words and intentions and that crack, that fucking wonderful crack, hurt less than the time that you kissed me in a stairwell and when I opened my eyes you were gone. The doctors finally made it through all the locks and steel doors and they found my heart there, barely beating, springing a leak or two. The room went silent, a pin dropped and I heard it mix with the hum of the machines and the beat of my heart. I let lose one single tear, something I haven't done in a while, and it didn't run down my cheek, it didn't mix with my lips. It sprung from my heart. I couldn't take it anymore, I closed my eyes. Too many people were staring at my naked chest torn open, too many secrets pouring out. And no way to stop. Just make it stop.

What they didn't see, is on the inside of all the scotch tape, ribbon, and glue is just a pinch of glitter. Just enough to give to one.

I woke up to find myself in a nice green room on a soft bed with a new, hand stroking my head and saw for the first time in my life that maybe having a heart that looks like it was made in a preschool art class isn't so bad after all.

#5

When you type into a little text box,

I heard you and

suddenly I knew that

the stars shine for you and

you're willing to give

a little glitter to me to

make my paper skin

more 3-D.

Octopi Are Smarter

If I (just) bury my feet real deep in an ocean's sand I used to swear I'd hit China. Okay, so maybe it wasn't an ocean, it was just an old red sandbox sitting by a chipped blue swing set broken with a million little hearts lingering on it. That's beside the point. The sand scraped my toes and I'd hit the occasional pebble that would make me bleed but that was no worry to me because I'd find China. Maybe I'd wind up in the middle of a crisp blue ocean, treading water for hours and hours trying to find the perfect palm tree beach to pull myself onto, maybe I'd just let myself sink to the bottom and speak with the fish there's so many reasons to just float down. I'd much rather speak to an octopus than any other fish because from what I hear octopi are pretty damn smart and mom always told me that you learn more when you talk to someone smarter but the trouble is how in the world do you find a smart person that isn't a total ass face? It's much more comfortable to fall straight to the ocean floor, strip off my clothes, burry my naked butt into the sand and rock and look at the moon from way down there. You can learn from an octopus but generally, when I'm not in China, I learn from the moon and the stars and sometimes they whisper to me. They tell me that lemons are yellow because God had to piss and the sky is really green it just depends on your perspective. It's different from the bottom of the ocean in China because all I see is a hole in the old red sandbox, creating a portal to your heart in just one slightly but suddenly different perspective. (live.)