Dream Life

                                        I used to think I couldn't go a day without your smile. Without telling you things and hearing your voice back. Then, that day arrived and it was so damn hard but the next was harder. And I knew with a sinking feeling it was giving to get worse and I wasn't going to be for a very long time. Because losing someone isn't an occasion or an event. It doesn't just happen once. It happens over and over again. I love you every time I pick up your favorite coffee mug. Whenever that one song plays on the radio, or when I  discover your old t-shirt at the bottom of my laundry pile. I lose you every time I think of kissing you, holding you or wanting you. I go to bed at night and I lose you, when I wish I could tell you about my day. And in the morning, when I wake and reach for the empty space across the sheets, I begin  to lose you all over again.

                                            You told me your favorite colors were red and purple so i dressed in those colors my dresses carried red ribbons and my eyeshadow glistened in purple but you began to use me as your canvas you'd leave purple marks onmy skin and sometimes when you were livid you'd vibrate red and red would trickle down my lips but i knew you loved me so i let you use me as your canvas and then one day i lay on the floor in a pool of red and you began to laugh oh you're running why are you running my chest is hurting i thought you loved red i thought you loved me your favorite colors were red and purple

                                            I remember when the world broke in, To rip apart my soul, For years after that one event, I thought myself not whole, My hours were spent with trying, To fix it up with tape and glue, Until one day I discovered, Everyone else was broken too, Here we were with pieces, Of ourselves in both our hands, So fragile and so open, That I began to understand, Maybe I'd been greedy, To want my soul all to myself, When it could be a lot more helpful, In the palms of someone else, Now every time I go somewhere, I leave part of me behind, And collect all of the pieces,  Of others souls that I can find, So when I'm meeting someone new, Its not just me they get, But also tiny fragments, Of all the others that I've met, And my life's become much bigger, Now that it's home to things so small, And if this is what " broken" means, I do not mind at al...