My heart said I couldn't write anything sad, so I wrote this.

i went to bed screaming the words i heard on the radio last night

about how my chest only feels

like a shattered cage for all those pills 

and how the shaky hands, white sneakers, and florescent lights

don't change the fact that your sister is dying in the room next door,

or the boy you love doesn't love you back. 

or how for 3 years my sister and i watched my mom 

break her teeth on vodka bottles

ignoring that the fact that 

each one allowed her to replace the love 

she could of sworn she felt with him

i remember wanting to scream

scream at the people i should of never let touch me

people who's names are now engraved
on my tree stump

i remember I slammed the door so hard the whole house shook

and maybe it was a little too hard because that was the day you left

and decided that the cold outside 
was better than a family. 

i remember trying find the right furniture for the spaces you once filled

and i remember to not letting any words touch me

because the poison of the lingering "i love yous"

dripped out like the last few drops of water

but like stepping on a minefield in your own home,

i cant explain why

why the doctors always have to be right 

especially about things like cancer

or why people lose themselves over a dirty house or room

or why money cant buy time 
but it can buy the car that let you leave

and since i was barely 17

it was hard enough learning that the war inside my body had a name. 

but even harder to try to be tough and soft at the same time

because my flesh never knew what it wanted to be.

maybe i envied how others flesh has purpose, 

like hugging the bones to cover up the cracks

but these poems

these poems are the cracks. 

they are what my grin looks like as it

wipes away every goodbye that meant a little less than it was suppose to

because who would i be without my ability to feel?

who would i be? 

id be that person who is always

hoping for the day they will wake up to the smell of pancakes and their father downstairs wearing the "i love daddy" apron they made him for Christmas that year. 

he was the closest thing to a father i had

and none of this life was never built to last anyway.