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how do you tell someone you love

that

no matter how hard they will try

(& believe me, they will try)

they cannot make your mornings brighter

cannot sew back the red lines on your wrists

cannot repaint the sunset from it’s washed out desaturation.

how do you tell someone you love

that

it’s really not them, it’s you

that it was your mistake, really, )to be so naive that you thought that someone else could be the difference)

that if someone loved you, maybe you could love yourself

how do you tell someone you love that

it doesn’t matter how hard they love you back,

in fact, none of it matters.

how do you tell someone you love

that

they are enough,

to die for…

just not enough to want to keep living for.

–wolfcalls

yours truly.

everything’s been so loud lately.

my family. my college. my job. my inability to sleep, my ability to lose track of everything.

my lack of motivation. my loneliness.

my own head.

everything’s been

…

so loud/angry/pushy/confusing/chaotic/pulling/pushing/violent

crashing winds that are slowly tearing my body apart, splitting the seams at the thin red lines at my wrists, unraveling me just

li

ke

t

h

i

s

& honestly, it’s killing me, all if it is killing me bit by bit, piece by piece, i just don’t know how long it’s going to be until there’s nothing left at all…

–wolfcalls

lucky number 13

got me head over heels like whoa,

silver lining all up in the sky like snow,

i know i’m tripping up on words,

all i’m trying to say is please don’t go, 

pray to god that none of this falls through,

try to impress just like an interview,

i guess all that i’m trying to say,

is yeah, i’m pretty into you,

some shots are just too good to miss,

light me up like christmas when we kiss,

take it any way you want,

but i’d love to stay forever just like this. 

–wolfcalls

leaves.

i watch the way people light up when the leaves turn color,

ghosts and demons turned into games,

watching the oranges and yellows & reds and marveling in their beauty,

& i think to myself

what is it about us

that romanticizes

everything dying?

–wolfcalls

apology flowers.

say you’re gonna treat me right

are you?

says he’s looking for the real thing

me too,

says he’s never gonna be too far

that i light his way like his north star 

(yeah sure)

say you’ve just got something going on

you’re sorry 

as if i’m supposed to give you my heart

for free

boy, i was never talking about what was in your wallet

but when i gave you my number i thought you’d at least call it

(crazy me)

i fell hard just for those green eyes

never seen a boy shine so damn bright

i only ever wanted you

never wanted your spotlight

why’d you make it sound like i said you weren’t enough

all i ever wanted was for you to show up

money might buy their hearts

but it won’t buy mine

bought me diamonds

but never buys me time

i know he’s gotta focus on that big name degree

just means he’s never focused on me

all dressed up on a saturday night

arguing on the phone again

couldn’t even be a face to face fight

i should be more patient

oh, is that right?

my friends all ask why you’re never around anymore

& i’m sick of apology flowers left at the door

they tell me that i’m lucky

doesn’t seem right

cuz i’m pretty sure

i’m not getting lucky tonight

let me guess, you’re just busy

got other places to go, other things to see 

(why do i even ask)

saw i had a new boy

& you don’t like that

nah, you just want another target

to point your gun at

let me guess, i just wanna get rich

just another gold-eyed type bitch

(sounds kinda like bullshit)

i fell hard just for the way you laughed

thought i could spin a lie into romance

had a thing for a boy who took my hand

even though it turns out i didn’t stand a chance

don’t call me now & tell me that you still care

because when i look back you were never even there

i never asked for anything

except to be inside your arms

i burned down red flags

cut off all the alarms

i get it, you’ve got a lot of stuff to do 

well so do i, & that excludes you

hope the next girl always makes you wait

ignores your requests

doesn’t even bother to turn up late

hope that apology flowers make your heart bleed

desperately realizing you’ll never be what she needs

i hope the whole world looks blurry on the way home

because i’ll be doing just fine, crystal clear on my own.

–wolfcalls

frost fantasy.

this is not some stupid little thing

this is an obsession, this is sin

this is not some sparkling frost fantasy

this is winter breaking your windows to come in

we wrote ourselves a twisted game

we knew at the start no one would win

but i forget how dark that this can get

when i see how moonlight drips across your skin

keeping my mouth shut

daring you to say something bolder

& i know it’s tearing her apart

but my girl takes it like a soldier

i know you think you’re cold

baby girl, trust me i’m colder

digging deep into my mind

like your nails into my shoulder

when i’ve got her pinned to the wall

at least it’s one way to hold her

just tell me you’ll look back on me when you’re older

this is not some stupid little thing

don’t tell me this is all inside my head

this is not some sparkling frost fantasy

dissipating in the morning from my bed

i could spin you a thousand lines

i could pump this romance full of lead

& no matter how this all goes

one of us just might wind up dead

everyone’s got her eyes on her

little lady effortlessly shining blinding bright

i’m leaving fist marks in the wall

because she’s someone else’s tonight

brass knuckles for promise rings

trust me i could put up a pretty good fight

i don’t even need your love–

just something good enough to write

& it’s pushing me towards the edge

but i keep it locked & out of sight

because too many emotions are a weakness, right?

this is not some stupid little thing

& you have no idea what the hell i need

this is not some sparkling frost fantasy

this will tear you open, make you bleed

this is a testament to all your lies

this is a ballad of human greed

this is a bullet inside your brain

salvation from a gun, fired & freed.

–wolfcalls

memorizing blue.

i know countless ways to say goodbye

i’ve memorized every shade of blue

i’ve had a lot of strangers hold me

but none quite the way you do

i’ve written eight thousand letters

none of which i ever had the nerve to send

i looked into those storm cloud eyes

& convinced myself this would never end

i learned the patterns of your heartbeat

in a way i never knew i could

& you took my hand & showed places

i never thought that someone would

we watched sunsets like we were on a high rise

watched the leaves change in the fall

i saw galaxies every time you kissed me

got butterflies every time you called

i’m so sorry that i hurt you

i hate that i can’t be what you need

& i’m sorry that when i love too much

all i seem to do is make you bleed

eventually maybe everyone says goodbye

& maybe this is where it all falls through

but just know if this is where the music stops

i’m honored to have had this dance with you.

–love, wolfcalls

amaranthine.

they told me i had a glass heart.

something that shone,

& sparkled,

& caught both light & shadow

spinning them into art, simply by second nature.

glass.

yeah.

sounds about right.

a glass heart, & it’s never cold;

it’s freezing.

it’s never just warm;

its burning to the touch.

too fragile, too breakable, too expensive.

they tell me i have a glass heart;

with dangerously sharp edges,

covered in the fingerprints of boys who played too rough,

& then scoffed at the audacity i had to make them bleed.

a girl made from shattered mirrors, smashed in windows, stained glass sanctions reduced to fragments, cutting open anyone who reaches too far, absently apathetic to their bloody, angry retreats.

i’m glass, alright.

but you…

you sit on the floor for hours,

sorting the pieces,

wiping away the bloody fingerprints,

gluing individual shards together

one

by

one.

you move slowly, methodically, carefully,

bandaging over where the edges cut,

painstakingly patient, entirely unrelenting,

knowing the end result will not be perfect,

but that’s not what matters to you.

& i watch in silence,

marveling how this one boy quietly passed the others with their brute force & harsh words

undoing other people’s damage best that he can,

& giving me back something that glows in the light he shines on it.

–wolfcalls

graveyard preacher.

i used to live in this small town

where everybody knew everyone,

i used to walk down this dirt road

just past the field where the river runs,

where there lies this century-old graveyard

& when summer’s glow started going dim,

when the leaves burned gold instead

that’s where i first encountered him.

 

he was something of an oddity

the likes of which i’d never come across before,

we walked to the edge of the water

talked by where the waves lapped at the shore,

discussed politics & the recent weather

& it took me this long to finally realize,

it wasn’t the reflection of the light

but ghosts mirrored inside his eyes.

 

see, he was this desperate soul

who spent his time at the cemetery ,

a shameless, bleeding wish-maker

with a closet of skeletons to bury,

he carried a bible under one arm

trying to re-navigate the fates,

of lives that had already entered

hell’s scorched black-iron gates.

 

there was one grave in particular

to which he gave special mind,

of a love that had passed away

abandoning him all alone behind,

he left her flowers, wrote her letters

her absence a cruel & twisting knife,

but why weren’t there ever flowers

when she was breathing, full of life?

 

there’s no time machine to go back

so tell me, graveyard preacher,

why didn’t you choose to love her like that

when you were still able to reach her?

couldn’t you feel the distance start to freeze?

couldn’t you feel it begin to move on?

couldn’t you tell that it was over?

that i was already so far gone?

 

i just came back from the city

to visit this quiet little town,

i walked along the dirt road

walked past the old burying grounds,

i wonder if he’s still haunted,

if ghosts & spirits are all he’ll ever see,

i wonder if he’s still around

& if he ever comes back to the cemetery.

-wolfcalls

mosaic.

i fucking hate my job.

okay, maybe that comes off as a bad way to start but is it? it’s direct, honest, to the point, none of that double-meaning, wink-over-the-shoulder stuff that i normally write, all of its intent hidden behind lyrical rhymes. none of that today.

i’m way too tired to come up with cute rhymes anyway.

so welcome everyone, to my virtual, anonymous therapy session. shall i start? my name is abby & I’m gradually crossing the faded border of nihilism while I’m being repeatedly punched in the face by consecutive existential crises.

who’s next?

maybe i should do some clarification.

i think i’ve always been a little too cynical for my own good. i don’t know, it’s just always been the way my brain has worked. & while maybe it’s saved me from a few bad situations, it’s also a bit of a buzzkill.

& by a bit i mean a lot.

i get that maybe it’s just that i need an “attitude adjustment” or to “look on the bright side of things,” or to “find the positive,” but jesus christ, some of us are just not hardwired that way. that sunshine & rainbows shit takes effort, & honestly, it’s exhausting.

& yeah, i hate my job. i haven’t even started college yet & i already don’t feel great about it. i love my friends but they’re drifting further apart, & my chance to make new ones has been cut short along with in-person classes for the fall semester. i love my boyfriend, but i’m not sure how long i see that lasting.

& i’m tired.

very, very tired.

eighteen seems a little young for that, huh? but hey, i’ve also always been overdramatic.

i played this pc game a few days ago. it’s called mosaic, & it’s essentially this week that you spend as a lonely, single man who is stuck in his city apartment, his only activity being his nine-to-five. it was one of the darkest games i have ever experienced, but not because of kill counts or bloody massacres because there was none of that. just the mockery of our meaningless routine, the blatant, unabashed criticism of the ultimate pointlessness of how we spend our lives. a satirical commentary riduculing modern american society.

& it hit like a speeding car.

my boyfriend insists that our lives are what we make them. that if you work hard enough, or reach far enough, then you can make your life amount to something.

i didn’t really have the heart to tell him that’s complete bullshit.

because we all want to think that we’re special, right? we all have this intrinsic, relentless sense of individualism that propels us forward & urges us to make something of ourselves, goaded on by the pipe dream that we’re “unique,” or that we’re “special.”

we are nothing of the sort.

because you can try as hard as you want, & it doesn’t mean your life will amount to shit. i know that sounds harsh. it kind of is. but let’s be real for a second here: the whole idea that your life is going to meaningful is probably one of the most arrogant & nonsensical figments of american culture in existence. it’s a coping mechanism, a crutch people use to assure themselves that their suffering will amount for something. it’s narcissistic, in a way. it’s laughable.

to some extent, we are all just cogs in a machine.

how you choose to handle that is up to you.

–wolfcalls