and honey i hope my name has left a scar on your tongue,
my skin a rash on your fingers,
my voice an unforgotten melody in your head,
and my love a softened place in your heart

god here I am again at one am, my mind adamantly working away at crafting some hypothetical fantasy involving you breaking my heart and me realising maybe reality isn't reality and the pessimist will conquer above all

i keep writing about being taught **** but let me tell you what I've learned myself, people may be replaceable but if you let them close enough to you they'll take a knife and learn ways to make your heart dance under pressure and those little holes left after, those are what suffocate you; those are what stay forever

it's a game of being a puppet and I obediently listen with every yank of the string hoping one day it'll break just enough for me to touch your face with more than my lips but it's one am and it's showing me maybe all we're doing is going in straightforward circles designed in a one-way downward spiral

I don't think you know what you're doing and the later it gets the more I need to withhold the immense urge to tell you I'm a ******* mess, to tell you it's time to run because it's one am and I'm thinking about you and that never ends well

One day, I'm going to wake up and not dread seeing you.
I'll stop wanting to fix everything about myself, I'll stop
staring in the mirror at the bags under my eyes caused by you.

One day, you're going to wake up and want to see me.
You'll be alone in a room, thinking and finally understanding what
you could have had, and you'll wish that you would have done
something now.

One day, I'll be tired of this ****.

One day, you'll miss me and want me back,
but I'll be *gone.

And again it is just one of those nights, where the heart grieves for what the mind cannot fathom.

darling, didn't you know I'd turn you into poetry?

When it's midnight I find myself struggling to grasp the idea of change
You know, we throw that word around
as if it's a privilege to and now I'm becoming too scared to say something like you've changed or they've changed because I don't think I know what it means
And it's a debate because when I say it what do I really mean
What does anyone mean?

Change

Who's doing the changing? Have they changed since the wintertime when you were all they thought about, did you change since crying in their car, have the circumstances changed since people have moved on from each other faster than teams are getting kicked out of the World Cup? Has he changed since the last time he stared at you in his veil of shyness into a void of loud silence, have you changed since breaking down in front of yet another one you said you wouldn't for three hours? Because times are changing and even I can't fight with that.

People are moving and life is dynamic and sometimes I wish things wouldn't become memories but they do anyway and sometimes we realize that maybe things were never really different and maybe nothing has changed but your view of everything

Your misshapen view

when the breath of your words hit my skin, it just makes my wounds bleed more

at first you think you have a band-aid and it will be okay and you aren't bleeding and then the wounds itch and you think they're starting to heal but really they're learning how to break the band-aid apart from your skin again

it's been a while since i've had a good cry and i'm glad you brought me back to that reality as i've been crying continuously in the past three hours and i know you can't ignore your own wounds either but did you really have to make me believe false promises in order to become a prize or trophy instead of just a human being?

you may not be his sunshine, but she could never be his moon

and just like that day turned to night / and just like that my problems came to light

just like that the words entered the screen through my mind as if my fingertips were playing the dance of death and instead of me being able to meet the grim reaper i was ready to meet the end of this relationship with a weak mind and feeble heart

you see, my love is nuclear and the minute you try to touch it you will see sparks flying everywhere because boy this **** kills people by the hundreds, my motivation is your lips but my saliva is uranium and months after i leave you'll need to go in for that x-ray because your lungs will be on fire from my saliva and the countless cigarettes you've smoked

you want me to stop then fine i'll stop but just know that when i resort to being something other than kind to you you will learn the ******* definition of being radioactive

honey, you could make the sun wish it was the moon for just one night to be able to be the one to witness the way you come to life when it's past 1am and you're dancing to the sound of memories rushing to your heart

In a matter of months my life has changed, taken a sharp turn on the gravel road
I could have sworn to you I would have never walked, and has been bound to infinite
travels upon it's painful path. I walk barefoot, feeling each of the pebbles, even the smallest ones, stabbing the skin of my feet still too sensitive to become accustomed to the pain that I've been feeling.

The voluminous leaves of the trees have fallen to the ground and been covered by endless bounties of rain. There are thunderstorms everywhere but on me, or maybe I'm just so drenched with the tears of angels that I can convince myself I am dry. Maybe that's why I haven't totally lost it.

November was promising, but fall was too short and soon the winter months sailed into my harbor and have not left since. Everyone is getting ready for spring and I am here trying to cover my body with more and more clothes so that I don't have to be cold anymore. But I cannot escape this feeling, no matter how many layers are on me.

I sometimes dream the road opens up and I can see the sunshine once again, but this has not happened yet and probably won't for a really long time. The amount of passerby's I have seen have all taught me to think twice before I trust my instinct from being lonely, because right now only one person has stayed and the other is slowly fading away in the thick fog that I leave behind me from my delicately painful steps.

I do not complain except to the one by my side, as I listen to all the others place their problems on my back, speaking from somewhere way off in the clouds. I still hear them and I wish I didn't because my own problems are enough to cover the earth around twice, because her problems melt to the core of our sphere and **** all of the heat out of it. But we both do not say a thing.

And so, we are left to walk on. Alone and by ourselves.

perfection is how beautiful we walk out of sync while shivering in the cold, my jacket too long and puffy to be comfortable and yours too black to be neutral in the face of my foundation

it's how you take little moments to look at me when ordering something because even though I've never learned how to admire eyes being held onto me something about catching your gaze still gets me a year later and if that isn't special **** I don't know what is

it's how my hand still searches for yours when we're together and how when you touch me it lingers for longer than it should all the while my skin shouting to break free just to hold you forever because in the face of nothing and everything we somehow found the now and I don't want to let go of it

falling in love is ******* messy and imperfect and beautiful and baby, that's absolutely perfect to me

I spilled out my heart to you the way people spill their coffee in the morning, it was spontaneous, sudden, emotional, and exposing. Now I'm left as a ball of vulnerability, and now I know that everytime I look at you you know too. You know too.

You know how I feel, I told you ******. You know how painful this is to me and how much it hurts whenever I see you and I want to speak to you. Yet, you aren't saying anything.

I'm so tired of treating you like you're such a fragile little china doll, don't hurt the little boy he has a lot going on right now! Because you know what? I have a lot going on too.

I spilled my heart out to you and you're ignoring it, stepping on it, crushing it with each moment of silence you give me. You've known now for three days, when will this end? I can't wait for you to make up your mind in a couple of months; I'll be gone by then. I need you to make up your mind now, to just figure your emotions out and tell me.

Because honestly, I don't care what you say anymore. I want you to admit to me everything you feel, but that isn't going to happen. You and that ******* huge ego won't allow that, now will you? I just want you to say something. Don't look at me and talk to me and pretend everything is okay, because you and I both know it's not.

It's not okay and I'm not okay.

1.) Get up
2.) Look in the mirror
3.) Ignore the stinging of your eyes, and smile
4.) ***** that smile in
5.) Wear it the rest of the day
6.) If anyone asks, you're "okay"
7.) Come home and don't let your guard down yet
8.) Midnight -- let your thoughts rush back
9.) Start it all over again

who hurt you enough to make you want to hurt me like this // who hurt me enough to make me accept it like this?

if there's one thing i've realized out of this all
is that good things aren't meant to happen to me
and things like this aren't meant to happen to me
so i'm sorry if i seem out of it
but every time you touch me
or the arch of my back
or my arm
or brush my hair
out of my face
it is because i know none of it is anything
and you would rather do that to someone
else

if you could

can’t you hear
that in every ‘goodbye’ we tell ourselves
there lies a screaming ‘please don’t go’?

If life is all about taking risks, then how come I'm the only one taking them?

And how come *I'm the only one who seems to care enough to take them?

We sacrifice the things we love for the ones
we love, right?

But why do we do this? Why do we decide to
ignore realities in order to comfort those who
hurt us the most?

Why do we treat the ones we love with the love and
respect that we don't get it in return?

Why do we loves the ones unconditionally who
make us feel the worst about ourselves?

i miss you softly, like the way you used to gently touch me with hesitance hoping that wherever you held onto was the right place, the way you used to breathe into my ear for affirmation, the way you used to want to hold my hand despite it being as cold as the winters i had to weather after getting my heart broken

i miss you tenderly, like the way i held on to you after i realised i could really learn to love you, like the way we held hands and fell asleep that last night because young love and new love and gentle love doesn't know just *******, it knows feelings

i miss you eagerly, like the way i waited for you to message for two and a half weeks telling me something was off, like the way your message sunk into my chest when you told me we had to talk

i miss you the way i missed myself when i was with him, the way i constantly searched for a me behind the bars of a relationship that only knew how to push me farther into the cell

i miss you / i miss you / i miss you

they say no amount of alcohol can drown the pain but I've learned that when I'm with you and I'm ready to mourn the loss of what once was three glasses of red wine are enough to make my head spin and make me forget about the memories that once seemed irreplaceable

everytime you're late I turn on the same song and the same tears burn my cheeks, I'm surprised scarring hasn't happened by now because you've been late so many times that I've lost track and the result is constant pain

I wanted this to be a fairytale love, to be midnight swims and laughs, to be dancing and screaming in the best way possible, but I was given the remainder of an old love and forced to rebuild you, and now you're ready to move on and there's nothing I can do about that

please grab my hand and tell me it'll be okay, pull me in and kiss me harder than ever before and tell me that it'll be okay, squeeze my shoulders until they hurt, leave an imprint in my skin

convince me I'm not watching it fall apart or let me leave the remains while I can

the smell before it rains and the taste of that first sip of tea in -20 degrees

the slow untangling of your thoughts with every beat of the drum, the way the wind blows right through you just enough to move you forward and never enough to blow you down

the sound of typing fingers when you know you're onto something good, the feeling of your own, and finally not his, skin

the seasons are changing and baby so are you / six senses are helping you develop into someone new

It starts off rather slowly, when you realize that it all is crashing down on you
like a huge tidal wave you aren't prepared for. It falls on you like the rain when you
conveniently forget to bring an umbrella, so you can feel every little drop hit you
or that mind of yours that seems to attack itself in the infestation of its thoughts.

It doesn't really rise above a snail pace, this feeling. I try so hard each day to forget about
you and every aspect of you, from your stupid eyes to your stupid shoes, but all I can
really do is look down and try to mind my own business -- you can't escape the rain and you
can't keep it from falling.

Sometimes I even feel like you are the rain and I am the helpless walker, because I don't
even think fate would be this merciless on me. Each of your words leave your mouth like thunder, your eyes are the lightening and your actions are the clouds hanging over me
that just fill up with all the silence we have until eventually it rains -- even clouds give up.

Well let me tell you something, buddy. I wish you could look me in the eyes and let me go,
and release me from this imaginary grasp that you don't see but I sure as ******* hell feel. I
feel it every day and I have felt it for over a month and you are holding me hostage and just **** me -- I no longer am capable of being a prisoner.

Prisoners are treated ******* better than you're treating me. To strangers you are sweet,
kind, caring, still handsome, but they don't realize that normality is what's causing my own fatality. How can you pretend? At least police don't pretend a criminal didn't commit the crime. You're forgetting your role -- you should not be acting. I should be acting.

Take that knife and dig it into my shackles, stop digging it into my chest deeper and deeper. When I try to forget you you're right there, a smile and another twist of the weapon. I feel some kind of tightening in my chest but it doesn't seem to bother anyone but me. Are you aware you're smiling while you're killing me? I should have known.

I have stepped up on that chair of confidence and I put your noose around my neck,
but once you were on, I knew I didn't need my chair anymore
and so I kicked it away.

At first the pain hits you directly, as your head snaps back into the reality
of where you are and what you are doing, but what no one wants to admit and
what no one will tell you is that you start to become a *******.

You start to crave the pain that is making you slowly suffocate under the weight
of your head, filled with too many of your problems and my problems,
filled with too many memories and too many thoughts, filled with too much
disappointment.

The irony comes with the fact that you are the one who looks down and presses
your neck harder against the rope. You go back for more, you keep looking down

You keep feeling that pressure, you keep playing a game of whether you can look
down so far you can see your feet, you keep turning darker and darker in your
face.

But as your eyes bulge, your lips run dry, the tears in your eyes stinging like a
waterfall without water, any feeling in your body going numb, your mind only
concentrates on that single person

Your mind only thinks about the one who can make the pain go away, but little
do you know, it is all only temporary.

Everything must end eventually.

It slowly starts to creep up on you at ten,
when you look at the clock and you start to think about what they're doing.

It then sinks in towards eleven, when you begin the autonomous
process of laying down, putting in headphones, and drowning
your sorrows in a mountain of music that was only written for you.

By midnight, you start to tear up, but your eyesight
turns hazy not because of the tears but because of the weight
of your sleepiness. After all, you've been doing the same thing,
sleepless nights, for days on end.

One comes around and you start to think they don't care about you
and you mean nothing to them. You begin to replay every moment
you've ever had together and realize you were blind not to see the signs.

Two and your hope is down the drain.

Three, you begin the phase of punishment.
It is your fault this is happening, you are the reason
that everything is ****** up. How could you ever assume that you
were helping, when you were only making the lethal hole
bigger.

By the time four happens, you've reached denial. Nothing
is wrong; they care about you and everything is okay. You're perfectly
fine and if someone tells you otherwise you need to slap them because
they don't know you.

And you can't even make it to five, because your thoughts
become too much and you have to close your eyes
so you can see them again.

it starts off with a new face, intricate details, sharp jawlines, eyes so brown they speak to you without him ever having to open his mouth, lips so pink they're ready to show you what you've never been shown before

shot one, the eyes look deeper, emotions get elevated, suddenly the melody becomes easier to follow and your body loosens

shot two, he gives you the look you know too well, and you smile because you know that's all you needed

shot three and you aren't strangers anymore, pushed against a club wall, tongues intertwined in a melody only your heart knows how to describe, your brain not thinking because what would it say other than love is falling in love with strangers for the night to fill something that can't seem to be filled, stranger after stranger after stranger

i think what hurts me the most
about people is that they all
just sort of leave
whether it be to the restroom
when you talk or to another
girl who seems more beautiful
or to that boy who youve
always strived to be like
for her
they all just disappear
and it is in those seconds
those little moments when
they are gone and you dont
know whether or not they
will come back because
they did not warn you
it is in these moments
that you realize how
incredibly alone you are
as a human being
and how you are
starting to care less
and less everyday
for things that do
not seem to care about
you
and i know that failure
seems to be my
middle name but
i hoped that things
would be different
this time and this
year and some things
changed but others
remained the same
and he reminded me
of everything i love in
him and everything
i hate in myself
and he reminds
me of the flowers
in may and the snowstorms
in december
and he reminds me of
the ice that hit my
face back then and
the hail that hits it
now
and as he goes on
to do his daily things
i realize that i am
clinging on to him
because i am afraid
that every time he leaves
it is for good
it is for something
better
something happier
someone better
and that hruts
and its scary
and i feel so
insignificant
in his vast life
that is constantly moving
while i feel like im
cursed to this
feeling and cemented
to the floor
unable to move
for anything or
anyone
and if poetry could win
your heart over id write every
poem in the world and put
it in a novel and give
it to you so that you
could fall in love with me over
and over again but ive
already tried to write
**** poetry and none
of it is working
because half of what comes
out of my head isnt meant to
and i try to romanticize
these thoughts but theres
no combination of flowery
language and imagery that
can make self loathing and
heartbreak sound beautiful
no matter how hard i
try
and trust me
i try
i try so **** hard

the days pass by silently without giving me much time to turn around and watch them and when i sit inside my room i am once again greeted by that old, familiar chill of winter

teapots full of emotions are being boiled over a stove that is clearly not warm enough to warm my whole body, but it keeps on burning regardless, and i notice that no one thinks much of anything unless it concerns themselves

i get this chill when the nighttime slows down that things are going to end, that everyone is going to vanish like the snow that tries in vain each year to stay forever, but then my thoughts leave as fast as the warmth of spring

winter is that old friend that you love to see but hate to keep you company when he opens his mouth about the things that used to be, about how you used to look out your window and see him fall behind tears, sparkling eyes, and disappointments and trust me, i get enough headaches nowadays to block out those memories but i can't forget dates in december that shaped who i was in january

if there's a piece of advice i would give someone, someone full of loneliness and desolation, full of the contents of despair, enough so that they feel they could burst, that they feel no matter what they do there will always be a dead end, that feel that they don't even want to write the tragedies they think and experience down in a journal because god forbid someone would ever open it, so they just stay bottled up

if there's one piece of advice i would give to them, it would be let your thoughts pour out like the way old winter brings them back; one night, just cry and let it drain you from any more tears; let that old, hideous, beat down, torn, broken, revolting chill freeze your mind, so that you finally get a *break

a.* people don't stay
b. even if they promise, don't believe them
c. mind over matter is so much harder than i thought it would be
d. loving someone unconditionally is like cannibalism, because it causes you to slowly fade away in the shadow of their achievements. you have to force yourself to be there for them with a smile even though you want to cry
e. people truly can have only one best friend
f. and that one person will *always be there for you
g. life is full of disappointments
h. people don't just disappoint you, you disappoint yourself
i. there are mornings where you won't want to get up
j. there are nights when you won't want to sleep
k. no one except that one person truly understands you
l. hugs are the best medicine
m. they can also lead to streams of waterfalls gushing from your eyes as you realize you won't be able to move on from this person
n. "i'm fine" is the most common lie
o. most people know this, many do little about it
p. everyone moves on with their lives
q. everyone moves on from you to someone better
r. there are an array of metaphors that can be used to describe how ****** life is
s. people will not understand that the metaphors are not a joke
t. there are boys that can turn your world inside out and outside in
u. there are boys you will stay up with until three talking to, boys you will talk to all day
v. there are also boys who do not care
w. there are boys who will not notice the little things you do for them
x. times when you just want to give up and cry for the rest of your night are not few and far between anymore
y. raindrops crashing into the soft barrier of your skin cells are surprisingly comforting
z. it will be okay is hidden with the phrase eventually and not right now

there aren't any cliches about being broken left for me to spill onto this screen without leaving traces of my blood hidden in each meaning that's been studied over and over and over again

i don't want to think about how little or much you sleep or how much caffeine you drink to wake those tired eyes up because i know caffeine can't help and love can't work to distract a mind so full of distractions already

when it's two am or i'm drunk i think i miss you the most because it's only then i realise how alone i am and how perfectly my head fit on your bare shoulder but maybe the lesson that needs to be learned is that i'm stronger than the pain of missing you and you're lost in the emptiness of not desiring me

i wish i could send telepathic pumps of electric waves fuelled by the thoughts in my brain to your heart so that for a moment you could wake into a coma of happiness but if it were up to me you'd be asleep forever and i'd never want to pull the plug

maybe happiness really only does last in the moments when we least expect them but all i know is that somewhere in-between my hundreds of bruises and your thousands of insecurities i got lost in the cliche of a rose world and i was never read to give that up and i never want to let that go

tell me  you'll stay, even if it's only for another few seconds of this dream

it's been four years since today and i haven't seen your face in longer than that

it wasn't a train wreck hearing that the coma you were in slipped from your grasp and you might not have even wanted to hold on to it; it was like someone taking your nightmares and placing them in reality

i wonder about where you are and what you're doing all the time and then i remember you told me you don't believe in a god and i realized that if we are the subject of our perceptions then there was no way you were anywhere but in the bottom of the earth with no air to breath through and with dirt encompassing all the inches of your body

i wish i understood back then what it took to go up and face your largest fears and all of your anger in the image of heaven found in that leather belt that was used so many times before, but i didn't get it and i don't think anyone really did and it was only when i understood what true pain feels like and when i figured out the delicate paths to madness and loneliness that i realized no one truly understood why you did it until we grew up

you weren't fourteen but your mind had the veins of someone much, much older than that and i will never forget the times when we were together because although they were few and far between they are enough to last a lifetime

the one thing that scares me is that oblivion is inevitable and this is not a john green book and i am not hazel grace and the fear in me pounds harder every day and i realize that one day i will look at the date as march second and not realize that it's the anniversary of your death and then one day someone else will look at the date i die and they won't realize anything either and if that is all we're meant to be, someone needs to explain what we're doing here

i miss you, man. i hope wherever you are it isn't half as bad as what you had to feel in the place full of the mirages of dreams. may you rest in paradise, in your coffin, in the blue skies, in the dirt.

3/2/2011 and still counting.

it's so truly amazing that the moments that you love and the moments that you hate
simply go away in a lapse of time and become the scars in your heart that
seem to define you

They tell you when you grow up that you're this mass with cells and atoms and everything weighs something and that's your body, but I'm convinced that I'm made out of glass because there have been times I have physically felt myself shatter.

Maybe I'm not good at giving in but I was at one time and eventually they just told me my smile wasn't as bright and my eyes didn't shine like they used to and I took that as a sign to just go my own way and leave him alone and let them keep talking.

The thing about it is, they all start off with a I know how to fix you don't they? And you usually give them a chance because you never got one and why not let people feel better? But eventually you learn that no, they cannot fix you, because like glass, you cannot be put back together perfectly once you break.

And I wish more than anything things weren't like this but when you try to fix someone while being completely shattered it never turns out in a good way and I could tell him twenty times over but will he believe it when he sees me cry and wonders why I can't trust him? But what he doesn't know is I can't even trust myself anymore and I look for comfort in this abyss but there isn't any so I'm left to just jump on boulders hoping to god I won't slip.

Today was the day -- my last hoorah...

Now whenever I see you I know I cannot say anything else
because there is a fine line between being there and seeming
attached and I cannot afford to cross it.

People say I have a big heart and let me just say that I've never
really believed them until now, because after all of everything that
has ever happened, after you ignoring me, after you being a complete
*** to me, I still want what's best for you.

I know that when it's midnight and you're alone in your room
thinking about something I'll be there if it's bad, if it's good, if it's mediocre;
I'll always be here.

Normally people would be bothered that you aren't the least bit
there for me -- you have not uttered anything apologetic, nothing showing
sympathy, no signs of caring about me; but I, no, I am not.

Someone once told me that people like me have reservoirs in our hearts,
small, tiny places where love is reserved for ourselves -- just enough to
get by; to survive. But then we take this love, if we have none left anywhere
else, even if you are the person who has drained me from it, and we make
sure we use it for a good cause.

I will be happy when you are happy. Actually, I will put up with feeling like
complete and utter **** everyday as long as you are okay, because I can
take it.

Today, was my last hoorah.