The emptiness is softer & more inviting than any bright, chaos free
Life I could possibly build.
Its not fair how they got to choose
What kind of life I could live before I even knew how to speak the words I needed, to convince them otherwise.

Its not warm anymore without it.
The steady drip
Always felt like a
Soft, repetitive musical note
Singing me into the clouds.

Sometimes when all of my memories and thoughts about you build up, my tongue feels like its too big for my mouth and the wind feels like needles. My brain feels like cotton and all I can smell is that very specific, heart beating too fast, stomach in my throat kind of scent of you. I hate it.

I cant find joy anymore.
I have looked under every rock,
And behind every tree.
Ive searched through fields.

I dont know when she left,
I just remember waking up one morning feeling a little emptier
And a little more lost.

Its been cloudy every day since.

I am simply a vessel for you
To feel
Important,
Controlled.
Strong.

My saviour.

Fear spills into me, and soaks through every ***** like ink makes its way through paper. So effortless. Without hesitating.
I wonder if healing will ever feel less like dying.
Ive inhaled so much poison my lungs are nothing but corrupted flesh, Ive set fire to my stomach hoping that it will **** whatever is in there, eating me from the inside out.
None of it works.

Ive wrapped this rope around my neck hoping that it will pull me out of this dark cavern of a soul,
not thinking about the possibility of it strangling me on the way up.
I crave chaos and fire deep in my gut, I live off of gasoline and insanity.
I grab at whatever strand I can find, tying bows until it looks like the cutest little tangled up mess.

Admitting powerlessness does not =
Giving up.
Asking for help does not =
Weakness.

I will turn this rope into the softest golden thread, and weave in the most incredible love anyone has ever seen.