So many old streets
I've crossed the sisters before
but it is never the same road
to an old place
to a new place
to a new chapter

though not a new life

my life is coming and going with me
in books, and bags, and boxes
and in my head

somethings I can't forget to pack.

I'm not gone yet.

Thanks for making me feel unwelcome
It's really helping me pack
In between sitting on my bed
and sighing at almost memories
I'm packing and ready to go
and I've saved a lot of time
I won't  have to stop to say goodbye
and I'll get to cry on the way
instead of standing there in front of you not
having too much to say
and in hindsight I think just disappearing at the last second works better for me anyways
but I didn't do it for me and if you think about it you could thank me
It's ended worse
I'm sorry I didn't call you on your birthday
I'm sorry I didn't give you your gift
I've got a record to keep though
and I didn't think you wanted to hear my voice
So now I have another thing to keep and remind me of a failure
in an old state that has a lot of my life in it already

So in a lot of words
I'll take the regret out
and just say
goodbye.

Learning

So many faces at night
the faces that bring guilt
and memories
that grow with
fears
and loss
but they're pleasant
Which is what happens
when you've healed the old wounds
instead of crying
you can laugh
at garbage hills
thirty minute meals

and kissing zombies

I read lots of words
I think that I once spoke a few

In the middle of the problem
sleeps the idea that we could drop it all
and start over
keep smiling
forget the mistakes
but it stays undisturbed
because everything that's happened
feels so important
and real
the idea isn't even examined
so it's unchanged
we stay in chaos
and in painful motion

too vague, try again

We went on another date
and it didn't fit in with the last
it was out of order
I forgot that we'd already passed the hand holding phase
so when he grabbed my hand I was shocked
and he talked about his dreams like he'd related them with me before
and he told me things about myself I'd forgotten he'd seen
and he classified me as the anti-damsel, and I was impressed
but he'd said it before, still not seeming possible
I let it go
so we continued to talk
making excuses
and ignoring expiration dates

I painted a picture on his arm
with a little silver brush
left it to dry
turned around, and he'd taken it away
the arm
the paint
himself
now I'm left
where he told me I could survive
and where we planned on meeting, alone
I sat and decided to believe him
I decided to be strong enough