Athazagoraphobias

Sometimes she thinks about math. She wonders if there's an equation for her depression. The number of times you cut yourself today squared, minus the unhealed wounds from the day before then divided by the number of days this week you felt pretty. The total meals you threw up in the last month multiplied by the pounds you didn't starve off then divided by the number of times you told the truth about it. The mean of the slurs hurled at you by strangers and the ones flung by friends then divided by the number of people you know who love you. She was never good at math. She forgets you can't divide by zero.

A few weeks ago my doctor called me "You have a broken heart." Now I have heartbreak to match.

the loneliest part of her day is going to sleep knowing when she wakes up she'll still be

she wants to name their daughter Sky so no matter where they are they'll still share one

The bank called today, trying to sell you life insurance. You let them babble because it's their job and you couldn't get a word in edgewise and you're too polite to simply hang up. When the woman on the other line finishes her spiel you tell her you're not interested, but she insists so you listen. Letting her speak for another minute couldn't hurt, right? She starts telling you how you should be prepared in the case of a sudden death. Car crashes, drowning, equipment malfunction, cancer, disease contracted overseas, covered. You aren't going to buy this insurance but you want to ask if suicide was covered under it anyway. But you weren't

I long to trace invisible trails across your face, like wind I yearn to feel your heartbeat cuddled up against your chest I crave all of your kisses I ache to give you mine Wishing upon a falling star I'll sing you lullabies

I want you here on my darkest nights when razor blades can't scare the frights and scars aren't enough to face my fears haunting, taunting all of these years I want you here on my brightest days when sun shines dim under my rays and our laughter comes in fits and starts prancing, dancing never apart I want you here for everything The good and bad, the in between

The only place I know I'm safe Is someplace I may never be If home is where the heart is I'm still living overseas

She has a red pen, holds it close Reminded of a boy She plays with it but not his heart A heart is not a toy Sometimes she writes and stops herself Afraid, for ink runs dry Superstitious mind, she reasons Red pens, like love, can die She saves the pen, saving the ink Never once she forgets By losing it she loses him Her heart is in his debt

She still takes her vitamins. She doesn't want to die quite yet.