losing faith

i’ve been toughing it out

for most of this year

trust me, it’s not a good thing to do

i’ve been biting back the bitter thoughts

that surface, no matter how hard i try 

to be nice, and agreeable, to nod and smile

but my thorns always seem to regrow,

and so i guess i’ll have to accept this too

i look at the stars one night, but it’s pouring with rain

i hide in the roof’s overhang, and bank on decency

tell myself

there is no mountain that i cannot conquer

if i could just want it enough

want to reach the top at any price

and maybe it’s true

but my faithless heart has grown tired

of these railroad tracks, and every time we sit down and talk

i feel so fucking old; listen to songs about nostalgia, about being sixteen

i think this is how it’s supposed to be

i lie on the ground, i look up at the vines

and i talk to my friends, my voice like a sinking stone

i’m fishing at the bottom of the pond

through leeches and silt looking for my keys

but the longer i look, the more they shift in my mind

it’s normal

it’s natural

it’s just a part of life

i’ll pull my heart out of my chest

i’ll try, real hard

and i’ll start all over again

blink

today, she’s standing in the pouring rain, her jacket soaked through and clinging to her shirt, her knees covered in mud. today, she’s tired of running from it. so she lingers in the downpour, and feels the icy wind on her cheeks.

i’m getting older, and sometimes, when i look in the mirror, i see it like they do: i’m a bright young lady, headed off into the sun of some big old future that’s barely just begun.

today, she’s standing by the river, the cold water up to her knees. she’s gonna make you proud, she’s gonna let you down a hundred times, as the waves surround her, chill her to the bone. she’ll dive under the surface, and listen to the silence. feel the current drag her along.

i’m getting older, ideals fading into harsh realities, like february rain, melting winter wonderlands into long drives home. like the moment you wake up, feel the sleep roll off your eyes.

and i’m a shit liar, really, dancing circles around inconvenient truths. i spend all morning just scrolling through my phone. i could waste time; i could cough into my sleeve. i would bury my head in the sand long before i tell you what i mean.

today, she’s walking home, and her jacket’s soaked through. she’s on a boat to god knows where. blink, and the exhaustion will fade, the night will turn to day, and all your best moments will seem to fade to black again. and these precious moments will slip like raindrops down your cheeks.

close your eyes, count to ten. before you know it, you’re gonna be living it all over again.

mirror

see her in the mirror, every now and then / or when i’m on my way to school, putting in my headphones and shutting out the world / but for a moment, i can see her brunette curls and her big sweaters / her soft, round cheeks / she sings to herself as she gloats over me / about the person i could have been, if i were braver, stronger, greater / made of iron and steel, and sheer force of will / her hair is messy, her t-shirt worn, and i don’t miss her a bit, i swear / but she doesn’t care / glaring from the car behind me at the light / she’s shouting make the fucking turn ’cause i’ve got places to be tonight / i see her at the bus stop from the corner of my eye, scrolling through her phone / she’s here and then she’s gone and then i am left alone / to fester and brood and find another hole in my favourite pair of shoes / but i’ll wear them til they’re rubber and thread / i will wake up and cry and do it all again / because i see her in the graveyard, but she’s not really dead / she’s running circles ‘round my heart / she’s wailing in my closet / writing stories in the pockets of my jeans / planting daffodil bulbs in the garden / drawing hearts on my cheeks

she never left. not really.


What is growing up if not being haunted by a thousand different versions of yourself, amirite?