I hate myself for not having a sharp tongue
I hate the way I treat rough edges like smooth surfaces
I hate the way that I think that cuts are necessary
I don’t ******* need pain.

Step for step,
You can step away,
Or you stay.

It's difficult to sleep without you,
With you, it's rather impossible.

At some point of time,
I'll be fine, you'll be fine,
At some point of marvellous time.

Sometimes I would like writings  to remain untitled.
Because somehow  it’s  unfair that a  profound feeling explained in a whole paragraph that makes my miserable heart ache in an unreasonable way to be reduced in a one-single word.