My heart is buried somewhere beneath my mattress and my mind is hung by a noose from the blades of my ceiling fan.

I’m tired of pressing my ears against my bed sheets only to hear the echo of your voice.

I hate the thought of confusing the scent of your perfume with the dead roses I have placed along my mantel

My room is a mausoleum
Housing the body of a girl
No one could love

You’re a murderer

And my room is a tomb
It’s a crypt for the broken soul
Of a martyr

If you mix ***** and lies
With talk of
Broken promises
And cutting ties

You get silver tongues
Of angry drunks
Who boil blood
And **** the young

When I realized that I didn’t want to love you anymore, I realized that I probably never did.

I’m going to die one day.
And I’m not going to have any words for the people I left living.

I try to say them in the moments
The words..
And all I hope is that everyone will remember them.
The way I remember things.

But my Mother always told me,
That my heart isn’t for everybody
And that I have an over active imagination.

So maybe I’ll go.
Maybe I’ll go,
And leave everyone with a moment.
Because if that’s my purpose
I will use this life has a sheet of paper
And I will scribble down
Every second that has ever meant more
than just a moment to me

I used to write poems for a girl who couldn’t understand the concept of depth
I meant death
Because seven years ago
I used my blood as ink
And my skin as the paper
But today I write poems for one girl
And for the empire I have built
With my blood
With my flesh

But sweetheart, this isn’t about me.

You like poetry now because
You understand what it feels like
To be ripped apart
From the inside out

Let me ask you this:

Depression doesn’t seem so funny
When you experience a broken heart first hand
Does it?
Dying instead of living without the one you love
Doesn’t seem so dramatic when she finds someone else
2 months later to kiss goodnight
Does it?

Realizing that your past lovers weren’t the ones with the problem
But the reflection looking back at you
Every day makes a little more sense


Doesn’t it?