Another night, taking the dog out, headphones in, the moon's glare in my eye. Like a limelight.
A moment clear as I walk down the flight of stairs, and everything around suddenly becomes like stone, to sand. My clarity becomes fleeting..
again.
My delicate heart could cease on this midnight walk beneath this warm glow, and would anyone know?

Would even I, know?

This is a story of a girl, lonely since the day the dust was given life. How deathly afraid she was to return to that dust. How deathly afraid she was to tell her family that she felt alone, even in their arms. How could she tell them she had no friends?
Those people she wished she knew, those people who she wished would just remember her name. Those people that really shouldn't have mattered at all.
Without
realizing,
she
buried
herself
deeper,
and
deeper.

Every last breath of her soul snuffed out, crystalised personalities, smiles, laughs, humanity, blanketed by false securities given by every friend she had.
Including me.

Do you still want someone to say goodnight to you? To talk to you everyday, dream of you, give you their all, to climb in that hole of yours after you.
After you realize you aren't who they think you are and attempt to claw out of your hole? Leaving them alone.

If so, the night will come, and they will return as dust upon your shoulder.
A final goodnight, a last blanket with a whisper of your name, and an
I love you. Still.

They say that time heals all wounds, but where do I sell my time to heal my soul?

I shield my eyes from the sun peeking  
    between the arches and peaks.
Halve the leaves, green, red. Again.
    Halve them, yellow, orange. Fire in
     piles, split again and again.
not one hue of color left, only black
     and white.
Changed but the same.

What is the meaning of my life if I'm only an extension of her? My taste is not my taste, my life stopped being my life when I met her.

I don't know how I feel towards you anymore. I almost feel like I can hate you like you hate me, but something scratches at me, a million people tearing at my insides.
The naive highschooler, the little "man", the lustful *******, the vengeful ******* in me now, and the one that wishes you could just be okay.

I can't ******* figure out which one is me, was me. What I want for you, from you, or why it even matters..

I want to be sorry, I am sorry, but the vengeful ******* still screams ****** ****** in my head.
"It was all *******, she wants to believe she's any better when she used you. She wants to judge and not be judged. Blame you for everything she hates in herself."

I try to drown him out with noise, music, love.
But I can't stop the nagging that you were selfish, and even more so, you were entitled.
You've always been everything you hate in me, and now more.
A victim that always denies herself love.

I laid in bed, the blanket caressing my skin. I could hear you breathing

in,
out,
in,
out.

I lost count of your heartbeats in the verses of a song ever so quietly upon my ears.
I lost myself in it all, my senses overflowed, and time was nothing but a thought for a moment.

Then I awoke,
the moment
lost in a dream.