1,2,3 Breathe

I'm in pain. 

There is a war being fought inside of me that I never asked for. 

The pain is always there, 

but intervals of excruciating and almost unbearable pain come and never seem like they will go 

(even though they always do (but they also always come back.).) 

And when these intervals come, I almost always find myself forgetting to breathe. 

I'm not sure why. 

But maybe, just maybe, i do it because cutting off the oxygen supply to the enemy inside me might  stop the war. 

Stop the pain. 

And I don't want to live with this pain anymore.

Sleeping Just's

I've been sleeping a lot lately.
Not so much as an effort to catch up on sleep,
but more as an effort to mend my brokenness.
Because my brain took a sick day when Hunter did.
And my heart took a sick day even before that.
And the only time that they don't ache is when I shut my eyes.
Shutting my eyes makes everything stop moving.
Things stop changing.
Good things stay, and bad things float away.
Memories aren't just memories,
dreams aren't just dreams,
poems aren't just poems,
promises aren't just words,
moments aren't just moments,
and smiles aren't just smiles.

But when my eyes aren't shut, that's all they are: Just's.

I'm going to have to wake up someday,
because sleeping doesn't last forever.

Red

My head is beating to a drum I've never heard of.

My brain is crammed with too many equations. Too many emotions. Too many of your I love you's that I haven't been able to feel lately. But now they've sunk to my heart. And to my surprise it's now throbbing worse than my head. 

Thump Thump

It's bruised. 

Thump Thump

It's leaking.

Thump Thump

But above all: 

It's. 

Still. 

Red. 

Red: the color of hatred, 

the color of rage,

But, it's more Red: 

the color of desire, 

The color of happiness, 

the color of love, 

the color of blood.

My veins are full of the deepest of reds.

1.3 gallons of red pump through my body every minute.

Most of it isn't for me. 

It's for you. 

I'm giving it to you, but nothing is coming to replace it.

And I always knew that without enough red, I'd start growing pale. 

My red might actually be turning blue.

Blue: 

The color of winter,

The color of cold,

The color of sadness.

My fingers and toes are going blue.

Numb.

Not enough red is flowing in. 

I need more red.