The moon, La Luna, is shining in all her glory. The thin clouds around her explode and turn into great big nebulae in her light. Constellations painted across this never-ending canvas of indigo, tiny specks of dust, light-years away, telling stories in the sky. The snow blankets the earth, burying everything. The vibrance, the magic of the night, a thousand shades of blue, glimmering and shining in the moonlight. I feel the cold breeze against my skin. I sink my fingers into the snow, wishing I could save these tiny crystals of light forever, but my fingers are warm and the flakes melt away upon my skin. The world is silent and still. It holds its breath in the clarity of this moment. Her existence comforts me. I find myself wishing I could capture this, bottle it up so this feeling could last longer. I need the calm, the stillness, the moon. I finally feel like I belong. Here, in her light. Cover me.

That day. You’d left early to meet your parents. I must’ve smoked a whole pack while waiting for you. Hours passed. When you finally came back, you were quiet. You sat down on that couch. I asked and asked, tried to console you even though I didn’t know. I had no idea. You left the room. I don’t know where to. I had this really bad feeling. It wouldn’t go away. I went out to the balcony and sat down on the cold metal floor, bare-feet and trembling. It was cold outside but it didn’t matter. I felt numb. I lit a cigarette but I never smoked it. It just burned out. I hit my hand against the metal edges until it bled. I was rocking, back and forth, back and forth. It was so cold. You didn’t come outside. For a minute, or two, or maybe an hour, I thought about getting up on that ledge and throwing myself against the concrete. It was only four floors up but it seemed higher. I knew you could see me, yet you never came. Finally, I went in. I didn’t know how much time had passed. I headed for the bathroom, but you stopped me. Facing away, I sat down. You started talking. I knew where it was going. I can’t remember what you said, but you talked of my distance and depression, and kept asking if I was even listening. I was staring at the oven, tears falling, but you couldn’t see. Then you said it. I can’t even remember the words. I ran to the bathroom, locked the door. Ran water over my bleeding knuckles, threw up. You knocked and knocked and I cried. I let you in, but I didn’t stop crying. You said it couldn’t have come as a surprise. I don’t know what I said. I cried hysterically for two days. These stones inside me. It’s all a haze. I remember, but it feels like I was watching someone else. This can’t be happening, I told myself. This isn’t real. This isn’t happening.

I just feel like dying today.

Tears turns to ice on my cheeks. Frozen into tiny little crystals.
It sounds more beautiful than it is. I can’t stop this pain. 
Would you please just come and save me? I’m begging you.

I never want to go to bed, because when everything else turns off, there’s just you. In this screaming silence, all I can think of is you you you. It’s been two months since the last night, you were asleep and I was running my fingers through your hair until I did, too. I remember how that spot on your neck felt, that soft smooth corner of skin, where my kiss is burnt into your skin forever but I doubt you even remember. I spent 977 days with you but you’re just a stranger now. I thought I’d put everything that reminded me of you into that envelope, but today I noticed a picture of us, that one of us on the swings and we were so in love, and I tore it to pieces. I want to burn everything down. I don’t know what to do, babe. What am I supposed to do?

I feel like I might die. There’s something in my veins, in my blood, spreading through my body. I don’t know. Tears flow effortlessly. I don’t know. It scares me. I’m frightened. I need to wear the dress, my suicide dress. I don’t want to sleep alone. I need to get away. I need words. I hate the word beauty. Everything is ugly, I need it to be pretty. I need the moon, those blue hues, the comfort of her existence. I need warmth, cold air, eyes to stare into, there are patterns everywhere and I see things I don’t want to. I can’t close my eyes, because darkness is all there is and I need the places, the places I wish I could be, my heart is aching for the sea, I need the waves, the sounds, the touch. Rocking back and forth. Back and forth. I can’t stop. I need you. I need the calm. The stillness. The moon, the sea, the silence. Comfort me.

another nosebleed. my throat is raw from the blood i’ve swallowed. nausea. i like the metallic taste but it makes me want to throw up. i haven’t slept. headaches, these fucking headaches. blood everywhere - on my hands, in my face, on the floor. scars that won’t heal. i keep picking at them, picking at myself. my hand hurts, though the bandage covers the pretty up. dried blood and bruises. reds and blues and violets. my hand is shaking. i can’t keep it steady. fold the sleeve up - more cuts and bruises. delicate little flowers. i am alive. i can be hurt. i say i’m fine. they accept it. no one asks. these are my secrets. sometimes i want to tell them everything. but something inside me says ‘hush, now. these are your secrets. keep quiet.’

april 26th, 2009

he brought spring into my autumn heart, which is always prepared for winter’s grip and the leaves are orange, red, brown. spring is a dangerous time. hopeful.