who were you before your brother broke your heart for the first time when you were nine years old?
how much hope shone through your bright brown eyes before you realized your mom was human too?
and she could lie,
and she could break your heart,
and she could show you for the first time in your life why trusting someone is so terrifying.

who were you before?
before your father could barely look you in the eyes
because he didn't care to understand the pain you tried so hard to keep inside.
it destroyed you,
but you destroyed him.

the ones who say love isn't real.
i don't think they've ever been talking about a silly boy or girl.
i don't think a relationship has ever crossed their mind when their chest strains to beat through the tears.
i don't think they ever got the chance to form that bond,
just to feel it break.

i think they were too busy picking up the pieces,
broken on the floor of the house they were raised in all those years,
with the people who were supposed to show them what love is.

i think they know what it isn't.

Sun dried pages of a book
you've carried around
long before the first day
your father picked you up
and you felt what it meant to be free.

The cover scratched
from the cobblestone walkway
leading up to your front door,
the one where mom always greeted you
with a smile that defined the meaning of home.

Coffee stained corners
from the first all nighter you pulled,
the day you learned
to keep your thoughts tucked away inside your bag
instead of out in the open where drinks and feelings are easily spilled.

Two covers stuffed
with a life times worth of letters
arranged into stories
that haven't felt like your own in years.

Paper filled with unfamiliar feelings
flee your fingertips and you realize,
you haven't been concerned
with holding on for a while now anyway.

Sometimes the pages stop making sense,
and all that's left to do
is drop the book completely
and create a new one.

                And you use what you learned,
                                    but leave it behind

I nearly pushed you
into the train, before realizing
that dragging you
onto the tracks with me,
wouldn't stop the collision
I was wishing someone
could help me escape.


I did not realized I had been pushing you away until I had nearly lost you.

you used to tell me
I let people walk all over me.
I guess I didn't listen,
so you thought you'd show me instead.
I guess you were right.

People get tired of you being sad,
and they leave,
even after promising they wouldn't.
Because who would want to stick around sorting through your mess
when you can't even find the strength to get through it yourself.
-- whether you like it or not, you must deal with the hard stuff, alone.

Im afraid my head will never stop spinning
Spinning 
Like a merry go round of what ifs 
Only faster
Like the tea cups we used to ride as kids
But less exciting
Because I cant feel
only fear
Because theres no safety bar
And wait
I never waited in line 
How am I here
Spinning 
Let me off 
I cant see
Only spinning
But wait
How am I here
Its the merry go round
Spinning slowly
You're okay
Its not a ride
You're in bed

Its your head
You're okay

you were just one wave on a never ending beach but God am I so thankful to have had the pleasure of watching you come and go