She wasn't like the drugs they warn you about, she wasn't addictive.
She was like taking a picture of a beautiful sunset,
too good to resist.

Somewhere between the loud sighs and louder screams,
all love
had been lost
and
suddenly
silence cried out,
"There's nothing left to fight for."

they told us not to do drugs because they're bad for us but maybe they were just scared because they knew once we escaped our ****** worlds we wouldn't ever want to go back

so she said less and less,
and as the sound of her shattering heart consumed her
she felt as if all other noise was drowned out.
Because between the muffled beats
there was no time to listen to anything else.

I'm not sure whether or not the tree that fell in the woods made a sound, but I know the sound my heart made as it broke was real. and the tears I cried were too.
But I'm not sure if any of that matters...
     because if no one is around to see you fall to pieces,
                                      did it ever
                                                            ­ really
                                                          ­                  happen?

She did not want to die,
no,
quite the opposite had been true.
Rather
she wanted to live
in such a way as to prove:
you can't **** her spirit
if she's got nothing to lose.

I have half assed memories
of mostly slurred words,
tempting me
with the curious thought:
how strange is it that our biggest fears
are centered largely
around others.
How ironic.
The sober neglect this,
But
In whisky kissed souls
these truths
cling deep.