Why do you do that?
Why do you forgive me so easily?
Why do you give me another chance to mess things up again?

I am a collection of all my worst days
All wrapped up neatly for the next to open
Like pass the parcel people have ripped away layers of me
And pinned it on their wall for their collection, their victory.
But my prize does not define me.
My prize inside is not your conquest, your victory lap.
It was never yours to begin with,
And I'm still trying to remember that.

I have lost so much of myself because I have believed that I was and would always be the second choice.

Who was to tell me that my mind thought wrong or that my thinking was like drinking poison and expecting it not to slowly **** me.

Friends, family and even myself have given me proof that I am not even a choice to begin with.

I am not who I was
My mind and my body that were once separated
Are finally, finally stitching themselves together
It will take time and a lot of silk
But I will put in the effort
To become whole again

For me it was enough
Being able to breath in the same room
Sharing our presence
Was enough for me to cling to life.
Being the moth in your flame
Dancing through the pain
Burning in your sheer beauty was enough.

I am often told that i give up too quickly
But the answer is I never fully give in to begin with
I keep my admiration locked away like a precious jewel
All my love is just unsent postcards I keep in a packed suitcase.
I am afraid to give in to my heart
Because what if my heart is lying to me?
What if my heart is playing a cruel trick on me?
What if the nervous beating of my heart is just the roller coaster I have yet to leave.

What should I write today?
I have too many throughs,
Too many emotions I wish to share.
I am a broken pieces of moments that i long to relive
I have created myself from all the dreams I have yet to become.
In this room I try to write anything other than my heartbreak
But all I can think about is how my memories have been tainted by your disappearance.
I am a graveyard filled with the loss of people I once loved.
I am an unfinished sentence because I refuse to give up on other people that have already left.
My plees echo in the valley of my soul never to be answered.
I hunger for words that express my need for release.
I crave to finish the unfinished sentence of my life.
I demand to piece myself back together so I may become complete.