Upon my beating heart
A little bird perches and trills
Of life’s many wonders
And its numerous thrills

Of love and war, I hear him sing
Of how war does hurt
And of how love does sting

Of loss, he chirps,
And of bloodshed, of death
But it’s my love he sings of
With a final shuddering breath

I think I am scared to love.
I’m not used to being the vulnerable one;
The one that stays;
the one that is brave.

I do not know how to love.
I don’t know how to let my walls down
To let my fears out
To put my heart on my sleeve.

I want to love.
God, I want to love,
but my hair smells of war
and running and running.

Ephemeral (adj). Lasting for a very short time.

Ephemeral (adj). His love for me; my love for myself.

Ephemeral (adj). The summers of my mind.

Ephemeral (adj). The amount of time I had with him.

Oblivion (n). The state of being unaware of what is happening around you.

Oblivion (n). The state that I live in.

Oblivion (n). The state that I entered when with him.

Oblivion (n). When I can't seem to get out of my head.

Written word used to be an
extension of my mind; my
       thoughts imprinted onto paper
   in neatly formed sentences.

but now                              
they are jagged
uneven.                    
         tired.
                      torn.
malformed.                    ­            
                               incomprehensible.

I can't seem to put the words
together into sentences that  
have meaning.                      

The razor edge of my words
cut me, bleed my body dry
until there's nothing left    
but dust.

I was made to feel
your breath on my lips,
your hands on my hips,
and your words in my ears.

I wasn’t made to love long-distance;
I was made to love up close and personal...

I'm standing in the ashes of who I used to be,
The binding chains have finally set me free
All of the prison bars that used to surround me
have finally crumbled around my feet

It is his words that finally wake me
His feather-soft sentences ensconce my body
His gentle hands roam lightly
He is the one that sets me free.

I'm standing in the ashes of who I used to be,
Princess of the night, violent and angry
I played my part; they let me be,
until he finally saw me for me.

He was so young and so doomed.
A boy.
Only 16.
He’d slay his angels and slow dance with his demons,
But he loved with all of his shattered heart,
And that?
Well that was what made him mine.

I am not a good person to fall in love with.
I will imprint my lips onto yours until they're the only thing you can taste.
I will trace indelible shapes onto your skin and laugh when you try to wash them off.
They will never come off.
I will take you to parks and waterfalls and bookshops,
and I will make sure that you cannot go anywhere without thoughts of me running endlessly through your head.
I will love you so completely that anyone else's will seem dim by comparison.

The mirrors and I start to shatter
I never believed that I was worth it
Nothing else seems to matter


The colors around me blur
I blink back more tears than I’d like to admit
The mirrors and I start to shatter

My hidden scars seem to quiver
All your words bruise me when they hit
Nothing else seems to matter

My shoulders start to shiver
You consider me a hypocrite
The mirrors and I start to shatter

My words trip over each other and slur
I wish sometimes, that I could just quit
Nothing else seems to matter

The ugly thoughts begin to stir
Everything seems to be starlit
The mirrors and I start to shatter
Nothing else seems to matter

Children aren't meant to know firsthand of the wars that are fought.
They are not meant to smell of
blood and ash and helplessness.
They aren't meant to be ferocious as feral wolves,
snarling and snapping at anyone that dares to get too close.
They are not meant to have bullets for words,
and knives for hands.
They are not meant to taste of loneliness,
much less of fear and gunmetal.
Children aren't meant to dream of loss
and failure
and sheets of blood that rain down
and paint the buildings
a macabre crimson.
Children aren't meant to become soldiers that fight the wars of their elders.

We stretch out our hands,
Waiting for salvation.

We watch the dripping sands
Of the hourglass with poignant resignation.

Our society demands
Of us to disregard those in isolation.

But the isolation is the only thing that understands
That this life is really nothing but eternal damnation.

Saying goodnight is always hard,

and perhaps it's because I'm scared of the dark.

Or perhaps I'm scared of what may become visible the next morning.

Two plus two is four

One plus one equals two

And perhaps it's also true

That love is equal to me plus you.

He said I was beautiful...

But he followed that with the words,

"But we're better off as just friends."

Everything about him murmurs,
'Welcome home.'
He's tranquillity in my endless storms,
my pinpoint of light in the darkest night,
my shelter from everything.
He's willing to fight for me,
fall for me,
care for me.
And me?
I'm hoping that I can do everything within my power to be worthy of this amazing man.
'Welcome home,'
he murmurs, his arms open and warm.
'Welcome home.'

A sack of flesh and bone,
Bloodred muscle wrapped in skin,
Given a brain that will **** it over,
So many times that it just wants to stop.
Stop breathing.
Stop existing.
Stop thinking.
It was told that it was one-of-a-kind.
It was told it was loved.
But it was lied to, so many times,
And by so many people.
It’s tired of this life,
Tired of the lies.
Tired of feeling unwanted.
Tired of feeling unloved.

Does it have to be this way?
Why did you go through with it?
You said you were leaving,
But I never really believed you.
Why would I believe you
When you said that you were done with me?
Because who believes those words?

Who believes
That the one they love will leave?
Who believes that the one they love will leave
In flurries of frenzied apologies,
In the slam of a door,
At the merest whisper of dissent in the ranks?

But, look at me now,
You two-faced, lying, cheating little boy.
Watch me rise from the ashes,
A phoenix reborn out of the pain you caused me,
A seedling out of the flames of your fire.

That’s how we were described:
Fire; unhealthy; too much, too fast.
And maybe we were, but God,
We were golden while we lasted.

But the gold sheen always fades.
The beautiful days must come to an end.
As do all the nights that we used to spend wrapped in the other’s sweet scent.

Because honey, we were never meant
To last forever, I guess.

Nothing ever really is.

Perhaps it’s time

I don’t understand

You’re right, and this is where I draw the line

Can you please explain?

I’m tired of this life, tired of the lies

I had no idea you were in pain.

Does anyone, really?
Do they really expect it?
Do they have any idea to expect the worst from me?

No, they don’t.

That’s right, they don’t. I hide it too well.

No, you don’t. I saw. I noticed.

And you were too late. Don’t you see me pulling away?

Are you? I had no idea.

Just let me go now. Let me fade until I’m just a bad memory.

It’s to fall,
With your heart on your sleeve
It’s to fly,
Your hair ruffled by the breeze
It’s to call,
And have faith and believe
It’s to trust,
That they will let you breathe.
It’s to choke,
As the tears stream down your cheeks
It’s to tear,
As your heart is slowly squeezed
It’s to leave,
Although you’re ripping at the seams
It’s to die,
Although your lungs still seem to breathe.
It’s to cry,
Even though you assure that you’re fine
It’s to jump,
Even if you’re still healing
It’s to smile,
While you’re trying to forget
It’s to fall,
With your heart on your sleeve.

Perhaps in loving you,

I have finally set myself free.

And perhaps it's because you're gone

that I'm made of stronger stuff

than I was before.

You ****** me over one too many times...

I still care, but

I'm done waiting for something that's not gonna happen.

We each start out with three hearts...

And then we love,

And before we know it,

All of our hearts are gone.

Only this time,

There's no respawning.

The price of admittance into my heart is:

One (1) smile
Two or more (2+) kind words
Three (3) words, said like they were meant
And an infinite amount of patience as I work through my problems.

I'm mirror-like sometimes
reflecting back the faces that I see,
all of the faces and emotions around me

I'm mirror-like sometimes
shattering into fractals,
my own emotions ever-so-fragile

I'm mirror-like sometimes
I show you what you want to see,
cursed forever to agree

I'm mirror-like sometimes
vapid and forgettable,
not inspiring, but rather regrettable

I see you
In the light, in my reflection,
In the clouds.
I see you in the clouds
and where dreams go to die

I think I'm falling for you, and that scares me.

And sometimes,

she wishes that she'd finally be enough for someone.

Perhaps it's finally time to let you go
but, god,
it hurts so much to cut you out.

And it is only in the darkness
that the stars begin to burn.

She said that she forgave him

She lied to save him from himself

because the truth was that she couldn't forgive him.

Not after what he'd put her through.

I knew that the zipper over my mouth was the safety pin in the grenade,
but I pulled that out when I said, in so many minced words,
"I love you."

And I guess we were never anything more than star-crossed kids
that never truly learned how to love.

Why can't I be someone's forever?

Perhaps someday we could've worked.

And maybe

That day was not today.

How much do you want me to do?
How much will be enough?
When will it stop?
When can I just...
Stop?

I ended us today.
I never knew that you'd hurt me this way,
that you'd lie to me,
that you'd break my heart.
He said that you had a girlfriend.
But you said you loved me.
You said you wouldn't leave,
but here we are,
broken-hearted
with acid tears streaming
down our cheeks,
thoughts of death flitting through our heads.

Why can't I get you out of my head?

I turned 16 the other day.

There's nothing much different,

yet here I am,

a year older, a year closer to death...

a year closer to living the life that I  want.

A year closer to making the change for the better.

A year closer to getting better.

Is it living?

Or is it just dying slowly?

We talked today.
I'm not sure if it affected you as it did me,
but,
I'm not willing to stand here,
my bleeding heart in my hands,
waiting for a sign from you that it's okay to let go.
---------------------------
We spoke today,
and I broke down sobbing.
I truly believe that I **** everything up,
everything, everyone that I love,
I ruin them.
--------------------------
We bled today,
waiting for those we love to love us back,
but,
we're not patient enough to be the ones
holding hearts in bleeding hands.

That's human nature.
Isn't it?
To act like we're
the gods of yore,
those lustful, flawed gods from before?
We play with the feelings of others,
never realizing that we impact them more than it seems.

But maybe we ended for a reason...

because you didn't know how to handle my tidal waves of emotion.

But...

I don't want you back, at least, not like that.

I want the 2 a.m. conversations, the comfort that you gave me when I cried, or screamed, or raged, or even just sat there, lost in the toxicity of my mind.

I miss being wrapped in your arms, security that they were.

But most of all...

I.

Miss.

You.

...when I said that I was over you.

I just didn't want to be the one with the broken heart.

But that backfired didn't it?

It's hard to believe in love...

...when you seem to grow tired of it so quickly.

I lie to friends
And family.
I say that I’m okay.
I lie to myself
Saying that I don’t need help.
I lie to you
Saying that I don’t want you as something more.

We hoist our masks,
Struggling to keep our smiles.
We hold our own hands,
Wanting the affection that proves someone actually cares.
We struggle to live
We struggle to love
We struggle to laugh at ourselves.
We love to fake being fine,
But we don’t really love it,
We do it out of necessity.
We speak, but our words are muffled
by the lies that we tell that make up our mask
That seems to hold up under society’s scrutiny.

Darling, we thought we were golden.
Honey we thought that we had it made.
But my dear, what they don't tell you,
is that the tongue is the sharpest blade.

Darling, we thought we were free,
free from the failures of others our age.
You called us love, my dear,
but if it were love...
If it were love then maybe- just maybe-
I'd want to still be here.

Darling, you called us perfect,
but the walls only hold so much back.
Love, you called me your light in the dark,
but I was eventually covered in black.

I bet you thought that this was about Valentine's Day...
but instead, it's about reality:
how we bleed for those we love,
how we bleed for our friends
our family
our acquaintances.
But then, Valentine's Day comes along,
masquerading as a solution,
a promise for things getting better,
but instead,
we wind up dead or worse,
our wrists painted red and
we're crying in the corner
just wishing we were
dead.