I feel you in the air tonight.
You're screaming inside my lungs,
scratching at them and making them
burn while I try to learn how to
breathe again.

I don't know how to let you out,
you've found your way out of my mind
and to my heart and now you've ventured
to my lungs and who knows where you'll go next,

unless you just suffocate me now.

Abandonment is a
prominent flavor in my
daily brew of
depression and
loneliness.

Steaming hot cups of
lonely nights and
sad thoughts
burn my tongue and
warm my insides.

I used to imagine us
sipping hot cups of whatever
across from each other in our
white picket-fence home

and then you became like the others.
I just hope you're happier,
wherever you may be,
for I think of you
while I sip from this

steaming hot  cup of
lonely ol' me.

Drowning in insignificance
choking on irrelevance

dancing in the pouring rain
stars falling with no pain

no idea where to go
reaching an all new low

can't take a breath
life's too full of heft

feeling the weight crush me
this is no way to be

where did my lungs go
what about my heart

all I feel is the blood that
was the start

of all of this mess i can't stop
thinking of what it would be like

in a world without me because
a world without me would be

the exact same.

I've realized it can't be easy,
being a gardener who doesn't know where to start.

You don't know how to caress your flowers
in the sunlight,

you don't know how to let it rain
upon their petals.

You're more delicate than they are.

Your fingers shake and your                                                                                                                 heart aches all the time.

You wanted to bring beauty into the world
but you realized you didn't know what to do after that.

You don't know where to put your heart,
in the petals, in the grass, in the leaves?

You used to whisper to me, dad,
when the thunder scared me right out of my stem.

You used to hold me
when I hadn't blossomed just yet.

I understand now.

You planted a seed and made a flower,
but you could only be the father,

never the dad.

Tell me the story
of when the earth stood
still
long enough for you
to remember
how warm her smile was,

how beautiful her eyes were,

how she was the sun.

Tell me the story
of when the moon
swept her away
into the oceans

because she was the pull from
the moon to the earth.

Tell me the story
of when,
on that fateful day,
you realized

she was inevitability.

You are honey in the summer and
the first flower of spring,

lost buttons and stones,
sunsets and home,

you are my absolute
favorite thing.

It's easier to have
no expectations at all,
so your heart won't break when he
doesn't come.

A second choice is all I've
ever been to
just about
everyone.

My opinion
comes second,

my heart
comes second,

my presence
comes second,

I
come second.

And I'm tired of it.

I want to be top priority,
first choice,
preferred.

Though my expectations
would never soar so high.

i did it again and
i'm sorry
i scratched at
the surface
so the pain
wouldnt hurt my insides
so much
im sorry
i
am just so tired of
being alone of being
neglected of being
rejected of being
abandoned
im so tired i just want
one person to stay for
a little while
just for
a little while
im so sorry i
cant help but watch
myself bleed as i
keep crying
i cant stop crying
i cant stop
im so tired
im so alone

it's this weird sense of
hatred
toward myself
that's started to eat at my
sense of enthusiasm lately.
it's as if everything i do is for
naught.
there's not even an identifiable cause -
it's just there.
this overwhelming consumption
of every smile i've ever smiled and this
mind-boggling urge to just melt away
to melt away to disappear to be devoured in any sort of
flame or destructive force so i don't have to see
the light of day so i don't have to
wake up again so i can just
have been so i can be a
would have been so i can just
be gone.

i hate it.