I miss everything about you.

I miss your beautiful face,
when I close my eyes I can picture it in front of me

I miss your incredible smile,
it melts my heart

I miss your laugh,
I love how you make me laugh and I you

I miss your touch,
So soft, so smooth, it gives me goosebumps

I miss your shimmy,
Whenever I look at you a certain way you do it for me

I miss your voice, especially how it
takes my breath away when I hear it unexpectedly

I miss your backwards glance,
how you look back at me with your evil thoughts

Mmmmmmmm, I miss your evil thoughts too.
I love being your partner in crime

I  miss your time, there is nobody
I would rather be with

I miss holding your hand
I look forward to holding it into old age

I miss hugging you
There is no better feeling in the world,
Well, .....

I miss you
I long to be with you
I love you more than words can say
My love continues to grow everyday for you

49

I do not know who I am and there's really nothing sadder than this,
especially when people are constantly questioning you about who you want to be and you don't know what to say or how to act.

I can hardly keep my thoughts together, I don't know how to put them in order. And I--
I am losing myself everyday as I give everything my utmost devotion,
only to find out that I have not been given any in return. 

At this hour of night, I feel empty and useless.
And it's probably true that this tear-stained sheet of paper I'm embedding my thoughts in will mean more to me than I ever did to anybody.

And it's sad because I could never blame them. 
There isn't a specific character that is outshining the radiance of others to love. 
There aren't anymore dreams, or hopes, or hobbies to hold on to. 

Everything is a lie. My entire being is a lie. 
I am caught at intersection point, 
attempting to busy myself by etching out words on the graveyard.

"Come be my savior."
You are not there, and you will never be.
You, my darling, are a lie as well. 

I am not able to kick, or writhe, or scream,
for I am trying to jot down what I'm thinking.
And sometimes when you don't know what you're thinking or why you're thinking,
you just remain completely frozen, with your breath ****** straight out of your lungs 
by those you love the most. 

I can never rely on anyone. 
Nobody cares about you no matter how much they state they do.
They are all a lie, too. 

I am immortal, and I am utterly dead.
I can hardly feel my fingertips at the touch of this pen 
as I am encompassed by a numbness so cold it burns.
For I am a lie, as well.

I'll have my heart in a gift box wrapped in see-through,
embellished with flowers, dedicated to you.
I'll spread a smear of glitter on it, maybe a little gold too,
so it doesn't seem so bitter, so overdue.

I hope it's vivacious; if it was pumping still,
and with prudent words you would overkill.
Its liveliness--once, now long forgotten--will decay in your palms.
Daffodils and daisies will melt into your hands, betraying all qualms.

Being the human that I am, obliged me to always seek knowledge.
I loved everything. Everything was a wreckage.
The fact that humans can cause this much damage enlightened me,
yet the thought of persuing self-destruction further could never set me free.

I was distraught till I was numb to the bones,
paralyzed on the cold tiles, silencing my own moans,
because what future awaits those who are namely the sick-minded,
the delusional, the know-it-all, the blindsided?

For spectators like us, we set everything into action,
to those who are less fortunate; the earth is flattened.
Their ideas, their meticulous theorems and allegories would all be dispersed,
by those who ignited the fire from the beginning. By the universe. By us.

What is the truth of reality?
To me it's all just a mystery
Unfathomable by the human mind.
Bliss or something of that kind.

What is it with earth and humanity?
We use her and treat her with cruelty.
Is it her motherly love that keeps her so kind
or her contract with God that she has signed?

To us, life is war
A ceaseless struggle - It's all too sore.
Or is it just through ignorance
that we handle everything with violence?

We've breached the contract through which we were born
And yet we still wonder why we are so torn

A p a r t

Like earth's aching heart.
But she remains strong and true
throughout the pain and everything we do

What is the truth of reality?
To me it's all just a mystery.
I thought I'd find the answer through poetry
But all it has brought is melancholy

a small shelter from the rain
a window out on the world;
a never ending sheet of paper;
a sea of ink to write with

Don't forget
That
I love you

Don't forget
That
im the one
Who's been there for you

Don't forget
That
I'm the one
Who let you take my virginity

Don't forget
That
I want to spend
The rest of my life
With you

If you
Forgot
These things
It would be
necessary
To say that
I would explode
Into a million pieces
And those pieces
Would turn to
Ash

Think back to what you said...*

People live in dark realities,
A grim fairy tale of
Hope and heartache.
People always try--
But then again,
People always fail:
Is it better to question your potential,
Or falter in a better place?

Some give in,
Trying to fill the wallowing gap in their chest.
#heart.
Ending up heartless on street corners,
The scams begging for money to
Buy their drugs,
The ones who really need help suffer.
Their first mistake:
Setting out to fail.

Others let it gather,
A dreary storm in their eyes,
Clouding their perception
While every friend turns hostile:
Fiends consulting the enemy.
Let the storm blow over--
Don't give in.