"Keep ******* breathing."
I didn't know what was worse.
The fact I wasn't dying and you
were crying, or the fact I was so ready,
to give up on you.

   "You don't have this choice."
But I do, I so do. Please darling,
let me go and don't hurt yourself,
over me anymore. Move on with
someone whos worth your tears.

   "Don't give up on me too."
But darling I already have, long
before you ever gave up on me.
You were just so thrown into this,
from the start.

   "Wait, don't leave without me."
Do I have a choice? You'd follow me
straight away because you lost the hope
that you once found in me. On the count of
three we'll close our eyes and say goodbye.
  
"And don't forget to smile."
Don't worry darling, I won't.

I'm sorry.
It's so funny.
For every time, I say
that I'm sorry. More
blood of mine, spills
on these ******* pages.

   I'm losing.
A battle you once said,
that I'd win. But I'm not.
Your too far away up there,
do you miss me too? I'm
coming to see you soon.

   I'm sorry.
It's probably getting harder
to read with my blood spilling.
I won't be like this forever the
doctor said. Now I know why you left,
And this is my final sorry too.

I like to think of your soul as a square.
With a dusty corner, due to sad memories
that you haven't opened in a while.
   In the opposite corner, there's a vacant
cobweb just lying there because you don't
like spiders and you daren't clean it.
   In the middle, there's a bunch of live
flowers. Filled with the brightness of your
smile and the tears you cry at night.
   Slightly to the left, are the marks
where you brushed a blade across
your skin one night and tried to die.
   (I'm glad you didn't though). More
to the right is a ring your mother used
to wear around her neck before she died.
   And above, the flowers and the ring, is a
letter I gave you on our year anniversary and
despite being 5 years later. You still have it.
   With a reply from yourself, saying: *thank you
for understanding the black parts of my soul. And the only
reason the colour's showing through is because of you.

in all honesty,
i dont think anyone,
even realises how ******,
being a teenager is.

in all honesty,
i dont think even,
teenagers realise how ******,
being a teenager is.

My phone's lying on the floor,
again.
And I'm purposely ignoring it,
due to the fear burning inside me,
of which continues to light itself.

Because a part of me knows what I want,
and the other part is my ******* heart,
telling me over and over again.
"No, it's this you want."

Because you are probably talking,
to someone much better than I'll ever be,
and I am probably annoying you.

But for some reason, I can't tell myself,
"no that's enough for now"

Your not perfect, but your **** close enough.

It's weird to think,
that only 5, 6 days ago,
I was sharing your company
and you were sharing mine,
and whilst I'm here remembering,
every word that was said and,
memorizing every letter you pronounced,
you probably can't even remember,
the conversation we shared about autumn;
and how you laughed when I mentioned loving
dark lipsticks, which never would affect you.
And how I'm sat here wishing, wishing forever,
that you were in love with a girl with blonde in her hair,
enjoys to wear dark lipstick in autumn and winter.
And how you want to desperately show her,
she doesn't need to push people out.
Because you're a person to.