Letters from sixteen

Don't stop me now

A positive hopeful poetry collection.

Not from anyone
Last night I had a dream of someone I love crying out for help in the same ways I did.
Her voice was full of raw and genuine fear.
I woke up and soon realized, I will not let myself suffer so a rapist can walk free.
They say he's a good man, they say he feels guilty, they say he won't do it again.
Maybe they believe those words, but I see past the lies they comfort themselves with.
The man who hurts a child is not the empathic soul he was ever made out to be.
He was never guilty enough to stop when I begged him to, so no, his guilt does not measure up.
He did it again, and again, and again, and again, I was not the only one, he will not learn.
I will not let myself be stifled. I will not suffer for him. I will not wait until the time is right.
In last night's dream I told those who will not help that I don't care what they have to say.
Whatever excuses you can come up with will not be good enough.
I rode my bike to the police station. I filed out the paper. I told them the bits and pieces.
I did it by myself and I will keep my determination high because I deserve better, everyone does.
I will not take it, not from him, not from anyone.

Coffee
I used to drink lattes to stay up late.
On those special nights I'd pour myself a cup and enjoy the time spent alone.
Other things replaced this, bottles and bags and hollow pens became more of the ideal.
I'd rather be ecstatic.
I don't want what I can get from the grocery store, I'd much prefer the medicine cabinets.
Soon I found myself never wanting to be sober.
I realized this when the thought of it made my lungs feel as if there was not enough air in the world.
But there is.
Last night I poured myself a cup of black coffee, it tasted as bad as it always does, and that was enough.
For once I did not want more, for once I didn't want anything else at all.
I laughed and smiled and wrote and it was enough.

Manic tells
I begin to believe I am schizophrenic, as there is no way my eyes can perceive this many falsehoods without me being.
I sleep far less than I should and have more energy than is expected. I convince myself my body does not need the slumber it once did.
I am high regardless of what I put into my body, often without a substance at all.
I listen to freddie mercury, too often, too loud, the same song looping over and over again.
I've found all the answers, yet it seems I remain often almost entirely unaware of the insanity I am living in.
I feel ecstatic beyond words, I vibrate a little, I cannot seem to keep myself still, I feel as if I am flying with no ground beneath me.

One day we will fly
I had been meaning to write a poem about hope, about the better days ahead, today it seems those days I had intended to hope about.
I was finally able to get the courage to walk into that police station, I was alone, but I did not care. I still don't, I will stand in what I know is right even if I was spit on every step of the way, even if they don't like what they see