I try to be good to you, especially when I cannot be to myself.
I will try to love you most in the times that I cannot feel it.

since when did Seasonal Depression decide that summertime sadness is the new thing
the sun stares down at me as i trudge around blindly and i feel my body melting like a snowball onto the concrete under my bare feet
i have no desire to do anything with the time off that she has given me
and my mother bothers me with questions because i spend so much time inside silently next to her
she spends every day plugged into the living room couch
and my niece is growing older and bolder and her attitude reflects mine most of the time
i want to scream
i want to rip your hair from your scalp
i want to sink my teeth into something
maybe sanity huh
ha

self-deprecating thoughts have not plagued me for some time now
but i feel them creeping up on me like spiders in the night
like crying in front of you for the first time in ages and not being able to stop
like really crying, the tears burning as they rolled down my cheeks
and I couldn't tell you why and you just looked at me puzzled
like the realization that I didn't want you on top of me and you slowly retreating
and i couldn't tell you why and i just looked at you puzzled

I don't deserve you or your kindness or your kisses
You don't deserve my sharp passive aggressive remarks or reminders
You deserve a second of breath and I don't deserve the seconds you give to me

you may hear both sides of a story
but you believe the side of the one you love
and my dear, you've loved each chapter.
and as much as you might wish
you'd never read those words,
they still ring inside of you
but you skipped the epilogue,
which confessed that both sides are true;
it is possible that the hero is also the villain,
and the angel also the demon,
and the sweetest caramel skin masochistic,
and the ivory wristed sadistic.
And the fire that had engulfed them both at one time
was the reader, with much to learn.
Because with pleasure came so much pain,
caused by each of us to the other,
and for that I almost wish I never touched her,
but I am more than thankful that a part of her touched me,
for I too once was just a reader, with much to learn.
And I read of a flower who cracked the strongest concrete,
I was afraid that I might have killed it,
so I left the bud there, to blossom under another's water and sunlight,
for I have much to learn on the art of forgiveness of others and oneself and the art of suffering in silence.
Let her teach you something. Let her whisper oxygenated truths into your ear and believe that it is all true, because it is, to her and to me and to you.

Don't worry;
no ones got palms like yours babe
I've only got eyes for you these days
I'm bleeding from my ankles
like the man in that story with thorns in his feet but I'd preach my belief in you anyway
You know I'd lie at your feet and wash them any day.
Just promise that you won't turn out to be Judas, that it's not in your blood to betray
Don't worry, even then I'd forgive you if you at least promised me you'd stay

a lackadaisical lifestyle is not ideal for a daisy
who desires to sing lullabies to dreaming lovers
who longs to grow taller and smaller with a sip of sincerity
instead of saccharine goodbyes
if only time travel were not impossible
to see if this rabbit-hole i am stuck in leads to a lavish garden in the end
then i could decide if waking up were the right direction
or if patience would be rewarded in this Lacklusterland

I'm not sure what it means but I notice the difference in how we used to fall asleep together smiling and open our eyes in the morning like our faces never moved throughout the night, compared to the now cold backs against each other and restless sighs when we see the sunlight.
I'm not sure what it means