My subconscious, soaked
in melancholy, has
seeped through the cracks
and crevasses which once
did not exist.
And in this ocean of
sorrow, I find myself
drowning
Oct 2, 2014
Oct 2, 2014 at 8:28 PM UTC
But high school doesn't teach you
how to stop loving someone;
so I know that
the universe is ever expanding,
and I know that you
can't **** viruses with pills
But I'm still trying to figure out
how to make my throat burn
less every time I see your
******* face
Sep 30, 2014
Sep 30, 2014 at 6:47 AM UTC
We ran the streets
that spring evening.
And I think that's
when I first fell in love with you.
We ran the streets
that month of March.
And that's when the
taste of your lips stained my brain forever.
You left me that
harsh summer night.
And I think that's
when I first felt true heart break.
You left me that
harsh summer night.
And that's when the
stains on my sleeves became real,
and you became a part of my dreams forever.
I'm moving on now.
Jul 11, 2014
Jul 11, 2014 at 10:32 PM UTC
Learning to breathe again is
Harder than the doctors
Said it would be
Gasping for air
And I find myself
Choking on your
Name
Jul 11, 2014
Jul 11, 2014 at 3:12 AM UTC
Love can be one sided but I still
Wonder if that is love at all
And then I think
That one sided love
Is probably the strongest
Love of them all
To love someone
Unconditionally, unwaveringly
Without receiving love back
That's true love
And true love
Never fails to
Break my heart
Jul 11, 2014
Jul 11, 2014 at 3:01 AM UTC
Being with you was like
being in a car
with the gas pedal slammed
down to the floor and
nothing to do but hold
on and pretend to have
some semblance of control.
But control was
something I'd lost a
long time
ago
Jul 6, 2014
Jul 6, 2014 at 9:51 PM UTC
You were
The only one
That tried to heal
Me
But I should have
Realized
That too much
Medicine
Can stop your
Heart from
Beating
Jul 6, 2014
Jul 6, 2014 at 9:49 PM UTC
I wanted to write a poem about flowers, so that's what I did.
It was short, expressed how I feel, and cut like glass.
I showed my father "Flowers" and he thought it was mediocre.
And I said, "No, "Mediocre" is the poem where I talk about dying,
and I'm trying to stay alive, so I wrote about flowers."
Flowers strangling soil plots with their roots, with their existence.
And to hurt something you love with your existence is a terrible feeling.
Jul 6, 2014
Jul 6, 2014 at 2:01 PM UTC
But can biology explain
the physical pain
in my chest
that I feel only
when someone
whispers your
name
Jul 5, 2014
Jul 5, 2014 at 11:09 PM UTC
I can pick at my skin for hours
Focus on every conceivable flaw
Shake until my body curls up on the shower floor
Most have never seen me at my worst, when
I’m stuck in an apathetic neutral state
Washed out between the highs of my need for thrill
And the lows of panic screaming in my veins
I have the the soul of an extrovert beaten to submission
Shot down and repeating the mantra “worthless”
What do you believe, if not yourself
How could I?
How many more steps do I take before I’m back,
Before the mirror doesn't make me want to shatter
What is my mantra now?
Jul 5, 2014
Jul 5, 2014 at 10:52 PM UTC