Captivated

Captivated by your eyes

Your touch, your sent, your everything

Glued to the ground, sight straight ahead

With nothing to look at but you

I am captivated

Sucked in deep and chained

Standing still and rigid I am captivated

As I try I cannot move

Nor even just look away

Not even trying you immobilize me

Captivating me with just you

Things I want to tell my dad.

If he would pick up the phone and call me back, there's a few things I would let him know.

I would tell him how much I miss the man he used to be and how I want that man back in my life.

I would tell him that he was the first man I loved and the most important man I knew 'back then.'

I would tell him that I wish he would love me like he used to, before his other family.

I would let him know how my sister has given up on him and can't stand him, and I would explain that time isn't up for me just yet, but that he has to change something.

I would tell him that I hate how he's missed most of my childhood and all of my teen years.

I would tell him how he could have been there, how he could have been apart of my life.

I would make sure he understood I knew how busy his schedule is and how I know he lives a whole hour away.

But then I'd tell him how even a phone call every few days would only take a few minutes and that even though he lives a whole hour away, it's just an hour away.

Out of all of the thing I would tell him, there's a few I wouldn't.

I wouldn't tell him about the many times I've cried my heart out because he couldn't even pick up the phone.

I wouldn't tell him that my mother speaks of him badly now, and I wouldn't tell him that I agree with her.

I wouldn't tell him that he's the main cause of my trust issues.

I wouldn't tell him that he's the source of my depression.

I wouldn't tell him how I hate how he's changed.

I wouldn't tell him I wrote this.

I wouldn't tell him I cried the whole time.

And I wouldn't tell him it's okay.

Of all the things I would tell him and of all the things I wouldn't, I just wish he would pick up the phone and call.

I miss you, Dad.

I miss the old you, Dad...

Ghost

The floors creak and the walls groan and the doors don't seem to stay closed.

I lock myself in a room, curl on the floor, shut my eyes, and breath.

I try to stay to reality but it ends.

The lock turns and the door opens and soon enough I'm not alone.

I feel the chill in the air and a shiver runs down my spine and makes the hairs on my neck stand.

But then I'm okay.

I smile and greet the invisible person, letting the waves of something wash over me and fill me with comfort.

Invisible arms warp around me and finally I feel safe, I feel at home.

When the house stays too quiet for too long I feel lonely.

"Are you there?" I'd whisper to dead silence.

It would be quiet for a while but then something would happen.

Doors would open, windows, cabinets, or drawers and I'd know.

"I missed you," I'd tell the air, placing my own arms safely around me.

I'd feel a soft pressure on my hands and I let my eyes slip shut, listening to the words I know are floating in the air.

"Never leave."

And the pressure would stay and I know I wouldn't be alone again.

The front door is the door that never opens, but it's also never locked.It's an escape, and exit.

For either one of us.

But the air is never still and I never leave and it's nice.

It's comforting, it's familiar.

I talk to the silence and let the quiet seep in until it's no longer quiet and I know it's not just me in the room.

I'll hide in a closet and listen.

I'd listen for the creaks, for the whispers in the air, for anything.

Once a noise hits my ears I smile.

I smile a sickly little smile full of everything I could ever feel and when the door opens and I'm found, I let go.

I let go of that sickly little smile and every emotion bottled up and I'm free.

I'm free, yet trapped.

Trapped in the same house with the same figment, but free.

Oh so, very free.

Free with the only one who would ever understand and love me.

I am loved.

Oh so, very loved.

In the house that is never still, even while I sleep.

False Perception

I pass by strangers on the street and all of their faces are blurred and when they talk all I see is black ink pouring out of holes were mouths should be. No one seems real and nothing is my perception. I try to grasp on to anything but everything falls through my hands, seeping through my fingers like water.

I feel like I'm freezing and even when I put my hand to a flame I still feel cold. My arms wrap around me and I give glances, wondering if anyone is staring. No one pays any heed to me and I carry on, content that I'm invisible.

The cool wind passes through me and pierces every organ in my body and I wish hard that my arms would be enough to block out the cold.

My steps are slow on the ground and when I look down, I seem so far away.

Falling fast, yet floating up, and neither feeling is comforting. I want to hold fast to the ground and get away from it all at the same time and it's too much.

I want time to just stop time to let me breath and catch up with the rest of the world.

Carrying on surrounded by what looks like a dreary picture hangs heavy on the shoulders.

The black-ink of people try to consume me, try to swallow me whole with no intentions of spitting me out. So I push myself to the farthest corner of the world and pray I stay invisible and out of the way of the black-ink.

In a world full of false realities and fake reminders of people makes everything seem dizzy and grabbing onto anything real is the hardest thing to do.

But in reality, there is no black-ink for you to see, faces aren't blurred, and you have to make the fake out for yourself.

And with so much fake in the world, the real seems to be what's nonexistent and searching for it is one of the longest journeys.

Silence.

The silence seeps in through every pore, every crevice, every way it can and you feel it. You feel it pushing outward making you feel like you’ll explode, you fill it filling your lungs making it hard to breath, and you feel it pressing against your skull like it needs a way out even though it’s still finding ways inside you. And while the silence is quickly consuming you, you have to stay quiet and let the quiet be anything but still.

But you can’t and you know you can’t. So you look for an escape. You look left, right, up, down, and then left again looking for absolutely anywhere else to go just to get rid of the suffocating silence. There’s no way out that you can find so you run. Your legs move as fast as they can with no intention of stopping and suddenly the silence isn’t so bad. Suddenly even the rush of the air as it passes by your ears is enough to let the silence drip out in a steady stream. So you keep running. Your legs burn and you feel like you’re breathing hot liquid but that’s okay; it’s keeping the dreadful silence away.

The steady beat of your feet hitting the ground is enough to let your close your eyes and ignore the intense blazing heat radiating from your legs and your lungs. The beat of your feet and the swish of the air give you the only comfort you can get and, as long as it keeps that awful silence away, it’s enough.

But soon you realize you’re only running from what you need to face. You realize that the silence that screams you to deaf is something you need to conquer. The silence you fear is stalking right behind you and you know you can’t run forever, and even though it’s hard – so hard – you have to stop, catch your breath, and turn around. The aching silence will corner you until you really have no escape and so you scream.

You scream loud and hard and with all the power you posses. Out comes everything that needs to and all of those fears and insecurities and pains come out. They flood around you like you’ve opened a dam and you think you have. And soon, screams aren’t the only thing flooding out. Tears follow suit and you feel yourself break and it hurts.

But like every dam, the rushing water has to cease sometime. And it does and you’re almost surprised. You’ve been expecting that the pain would be too much and the silence would fill you and you’d POP.

But you don’t. The screams let everything out that you’ve been keeping in your mind, and the tears let out everything you’ve been keeping in your heart. That ache is still there and so is the silence, but it stays to the corners, to the cracks, to the shadows. You feel it looming around you and, even though it still scares you, you are comforted. The silence is no longer unbearable. You no longer feel like running. And you can breathe and just be.

Then you realize you’ve made it, you’re okay, and everything’s going to be just fine.

And it’s enough to keep moving on.