Death by Paper Airplane

Paper airplane words

I’m lying on the floor
Waiting for a goddamned text,
But the phone is silent—
The only sound the hum of the laptop
And my own stilted breathing.
I’m waiting for an indication
That I’m not alone in this struggle,
That there is someone out there
Who cares, who feels this pain
Simply because it’s infected my heart,
But the phone is silent.
I think of reaching out,
Being proactive for once,
But crippling trepidation stills my hand
And my mind collapses in on itself,
Pressured by the weight of insecurity
And one stupid word that derails my train of thought.
The cacophony in my head is stifling,
But the phone is silent.
I don’t even know which is worse anymore:
The loneliness or the total lack of productivity,
Because this imbalance is repressive,
Halting any motivation to stand up or even breathe;
And then the panic sets in:
Knowing I am wasting the hours by lying here,
Accomplishing nothing, becoming nothing,
And again I try to reach out
But I’m paralyzed by the fear of your disapproval.
The clock speeds by like a freight train,
But the phone is silent.

You’ve given up on me, haven’t you?




I must confess I’m under duress
From all of your mispleasantries;
Keeping me under lock and key,
Holding me tight so I can’t breathe.

Your affections, while sustaining,
Are also noxious to my brain,
Releasing a toxin that will trigger despair
And ruin everything I’ve striven to build.

I’m holding on tight to you
And the light you’ve shone on me,
But that light will only grow brighter
Until it burns me to death.

This is the most gracious rejection
I could ever conceive;
But sometimes stepping into the dark
Is the only solution.

From there I will watch you,
Keeping you as close as I can,
Not to thrive but to subsist,
And experience, on occasion, your fleeting majesty.


Crumbling face

I want to wound you so bad,
And I am at a loss
If it’s because you’ve wounded me
Or if it’s to see how much you care.

But you’re already bleeding out—
A walking cadaver, soulless,
Wandering a void of self-pity,
Waiting to breathe your last.

The scars so deep have hardened
Only for you to cut them anew;
And who would I be
To add to your suffering?

Lying awake, these restless nights
Are spent sharing your torment,
Because despite the solitude that plagues you
Not for a second do you suffer alone.