it's like I don't exist

when you don't talk to me

for what feels like

weeks, as if I suddenly

matter only in my dreams.

you haunt me the way

sharks circle shores,

the way a mailbox feels

empty- the feeling that I

feel as I fill this sheet.

empty save the coals

smoldering like words on a page.

untitled 8-30

"I want to believe... that a song

drifting on invisible waves still exists somewhere." Betsy Sholl

I want to believe you exist.

Riding woe the same way I do,

you're catching waves until we meet.

You're holding secrets that make blood-red sleeves

the way I'm holding secrets in my pockets.

You're catching eyes that drift right by,

but you've never found a fit.

Because you want to dance on moonlit shores

twinkling your stars with the beat.

Because your heart is pulling with the tides

the way mine pulls just for yours.

Because right now you do exist somewhere

sitting lonely on a pier.

And I want to meet you and be the

musical whisper in your ear.

Mountains

for Mike

Butterflies...

blue butterflies over gray hills

make me think that life is worth the climb.

We are not so lucky to soar.

We climb, some steeper than others,

up cliffs of broken hearts and dreams.

We belay over piles of promises

and take rests at indifference's peaks.

You're like a piton,

holding me up.

You're like the clear view

after a stint in depression's valley.

You're a friend,

someone with a clear mind.

You're a song telling me,

"Everything is alright."

And I believe you.

I believe in you.

Somehow,

after every talk I'm calm.

Like, you're a catharsis.

Like I reach a peak in the plot

diagram of my life and you make a resolution.

Somehow I'm fine.

I wanted to tell you:

thank you.

Everything is alright.