I write you a letter everyday
Because it’s the only thing that keeps me sane.
And I’m sorry this doesn't make any sense
I use my words like weapons,
Sharpening every one of my l’s and f’s
Because umbrellas mixed with pills keep me dry.

And I walk around this old house
In your old t-shirts
That read your thoughts
With hot knowledge in my tea cup.
And I wear your shoes like
Plants need rain with
Soggy biscuits soaked in
Pools of black ink.
And I ask myself, those words
Written in crumbled notebooks
I erased with a pencil,
Where do they go?

And if I keep my paintbrushes
Close to my skin with watery
Black lines, will it look
Like I’ve murdered myself?
And if a boy cries
In his lonely room and
Nobody hears him,
Does he cry at all?

I don’t know all the answers
But I do know those
Watery black lines
Were not watercolor, but
Tears mixed with eyeliner.
And I do know that that
Lonely boy in his lonely
Room only screams in
Agony when twigs from
Trees get blown away
By the harsh wind.

I don’t want to be
Blown away. I want to be
As strong as an anchor
So when I sink, I
Sink with my dignity.

I want to be gentle
Like big sweaters
And books with that smell new
And big cups of warm tea
With the warmth of candles
On my fingertips.

You said, “Don’t be sad.”
And I said, “I’m trying.”
I’m trying not to whimper
Every time I step on a crack
Or see burnt worms on the sidewalk.

And, darling, I’m trying to
Shake that feeling of hopelessness
Off. I know I’m better than that.
I just want to matter.