Tattered and bruised, feeling used.
Let the dust settle, and wonder where I am, where you last left me. Kept me in the dark long enough for me to understand that I don't need the light. The dust has sealed tight upon my skin.

Yet again, I feel the doubt filling in my pigments.
Are you different?
Forgiveness is something I've longed for, what right do I have to strip it from you.
Am I different?
How many times must I forgive you?
Am I truly deserving of that forgiveness as you are? Are we the same?

i wish
i could forget
your zodiac sign
so i wouldn’t have
to read yours
after i read mine.

We want the warnings plain as daylight, but I'm not sure they  can be any more obvious.
We want someone to tell us what they want, and what they feel, but I don't know if they can get any louder.
I want more, to provide more, to live more.
But I no longer think that I have anything left to give or take.

You're welcome to mistakes, but don't let them become who you are.

You've become more than what your past has indicted upon you. She is not your past, your past is apart of who you were, which is not who you are any longer.

Cut it out, remove the dead tissue from the past. Leave it there on that bed you used to sleep on with her. Burn your fingertips clean of her touch, disappear from the way she remembers you. From the tabs she kept on you.
You've tried to sympathize now that you've done your time, but sympathy from a sinner doesn't mean a thing to an angel.
You've become something without a future or a past, but hated nonetheless. You've become a derelict, waiting for a storm to tear your old walls down.