You say its your fault,
but I disagree.
You are who you choose,
not what they want you to be.

I would give my life,
over and over,
if it meant you would still be here.

It's over,
never letting go,
holding onto a frail hope.
Gone now.

I want you,
to pull me close,
let me sink into your arms,
and let all my thoughts fade into nothing.

I want you,
to hold my hand,
trace patterns across it,
with the pad of your thumb.

I want you,
to lie with me on the grass,
looking at the stars,
talking about everything and nothing.

I want you,
to run your fingers through my hair,
to look into your eyes,
and see the stars inside them.

I want you,
to be my sunshine on a cloudy day,
to see all the darkness in me,
and love me for who I am.

I want you.

Peaking through the pavement,
a little burst of yellow.
Trampled and squashed
but still there,
still beautiful.

Would it be okay?
To let it all go,
fade to black
like at the end of a movie?

To let the world go bright,
a brilliant white,
created by the light
of thousands of stars.

Corpses cannot feel, for they are nothing but a husk,
a pale imitation of a former self,
what gets left behind.

Perhaps I am a walking corpse,
animated, maybe,
but not alive.