Hell is
being with you in my
sleep
But waking up
all alone
With windows open
and wine bottles shattered
on the floor
Hell is
standing in the shadows watching
you adore another woman
Kissing her and holding her
Hell is
being all alone without the soul I adored

                          S.M.R.

Humans tend to make me cringe
fold like paper; thrown into the bin
I don't wanna be seen even though I exist
Carelessly crafted by anxious hands
I've been written up just to be written off

I miss who I was before I met you. Before you were here I used to smile at seasons changing, now I dread the colder days.

2. I used to miss your laughter, now I miss the silence in my head. You once were my form of meditation, now I spend the days coloring because someone said it can be a type of therapy and Lord knows my therapist is tired of hearing the same story of a boy who keeps stealing my identity.

3. I miss you giving me the cold shoulder because I miss not being around you. I miss the days spent alone in my room reading novels so unrealistic but so desirable. Now I want nothing to do with anything because love is a four letter word and each letter stands for another reason that you couldn't stay.

4. I miss you before me. She loved you quite a bit.

5. I miss not writing about you. I used to stay afloat in my own but now I'm drowning in all the poetry that breaks me like your promises.

6. I miss waking without a reminder that I was never good enough and will never be good enough.

7. I miss my innocence. I reminisce on the times when I was oblivious to the evil in the world.

8. I miss belonging to myself. Because I know you're gone now but I still can't become my own. I can't get used to waking up alone.

9. I miss my laughter. The laughter you stole from me. I can't laugh at any jokes when my whole life has become one.

10. I miss the you before you became who you are now. You used to sing me to sleep and now you're the monster under my bed. You're the missed phone calls. You're the days spent at home alone. My mom asks me why I don't go out anymore, but she doesn't get it. I don't know why I'm surprised. I don't even get it.

to the self harmer holding the blade, wanting nothing more but for it to kiss flesh, know that you've been days clean and you don't deserve another scar.

to the self harmer digging your nails into your thigh after a fight with your parents, know that this storm will pass.

to the self harmer shaking as you bury countless blades in the dirt, know that you've never been as strong as you are now.

to the self harmer hiding deep under your skin, know that your scars are nothing more than a reminder that you're still alive.

to the self harmer rocking the realest smile you have had in weeks, you made it.