If tears could build a staircase
And memories a lane
I'd walk right up to heaven
And bring you back again

my head is filled up
with clouds and rain
and there's no one around
to make the sun shine again

So, I've decided to talk in pen, because pens are smoother.
Pencils scratch, pens slide like honey out of your spoon in to a cup of tea.
A pen does not stumble, a pen does not falter, no, a pen makes a bold mark on a blank piece of paper.

It stands out.

A pen is shouting loud into the sky,
"I am here, I am permanent, I am not to be taken lightly, I matter."
A pen can make mistakes, but they are ******* hard to erase.
Because, you know what?
A mistake is part of a pen's path, and what it has written before matters just as much as what it writes next.

I have decided to write in pen, because my voice is never going to be erased.

And so it was,
A bitter thing,
Like licorice: black and sour,
The two of them,
The worst of friends,
The mood severe and dour,
One jeers and spits,
The other hits,
They're falling blow by blow,
Extinguished flame,
No one to blame,
A breath and it was so.

my story continues
just not with him

I bit open a lie and it tasted like you.