Standing up now it’s hard to look down the mountain I climbed.
And yet, at the top of the peak there is no perpetual bliss.
No heartfelt remorse, just a path.
Leading nowhere and everywhere my life may take me.

You inspired me to write, not a muse but a thought
You remind me of a comfort that cannot be taught
A warmth and safety that only you can hold
Your protective embrace never gets old

But for once this warmth is all but forgotten
We may not speak, the bridge may be rotten
This doesn’t mean it’s not loved or burnt
It just means we lost what we learnt

Coming back to the bridge we see what once was
But cannot cross over only because
The bridge and protection has been lost so long
Neither one can see this was where they belonged.

A window reflects our personality
Life moves on whilst we stand still

You don’t know I'm breaking
Breathing as this relentless aching
Continues like open wound
With my own infliction of pain to fault...
Staring back at me a bitter cold reflection, dreaming in decadence  
Even the happiest of endings can lead to so many tears.
Leaving only this time to reflect on ourselves

“Mummy I’m sick” said the girl pale white
The mum turned around in an awful fright
exclaimed, “What’s wrong? How do you feel?’
She replied with an honesty “I never feel real”.

The mother just sighed, went back to her book.
The little girl shocked didn’t know where to look
and went back to bed, in her nothingness room
Whilst her mother ignored her nothingness gloom

The next year the girl aged, just turned thirteen,
she called out to her mum who couldn’t be seen.
And shouted down stairs “mum something is wrong”
with the mothers reply “what the hell’s going on”

So the girl with the pause says “Mum I feel sad”,
Then the mum goes on about all the girl has
and how lucky she is, and no fuss should be made
Just think happy thoughts, it will all go away.

To which the teenage girl said “you’re right” with a breath,
and goes to her room, feels like turning to death,
but switches off her light and lays in her gloom,
her room filled with nothing, fit for a tomb.

Now just turned sixteen, her heart had just broke,
a boy that she loved continued to joke
about all the things, she hated the most
her weight, her smile, she felt like a ghost

And after a week, she spoke to her mum,
about feeling so fat and feeling so numb.
Unfortunately for her, the cliche applied,
about how all teens feel this, trying to clarify
to her girl that the “fact” is it isn’t real
stop saying you’re sick, illness isn’t how you feel



This time she said nothing and went to her room
stopped talking to the boy who filled her with fumes
the thoughts of hatred and self deprecation
she knew it was time for her mum’s “education”
to see that her sickness long wasn’t all in her head
it was something deep down that started to spread

And weeks went by with planning and thought,
to show how her feelings and illness was fought,
she searched through the house for a constructive fight,
to clearly scream out what she knew was right
“Mum, I need help I don’t want to die”
but this was too late to say, the time was nigh

and finally the next day she calls for her mum
screaming “mum I’m hurt please just come”
with a relentless sigh, she walks up the stairs
to her little girls room, destroying her prayers
that her daughter was better, she wasn’t still sad
and the realisation of what she said was bad

her little girl kneeling, white and pale,
with blood on her hands, began to wail
in physical pain with emotional struggle
the mum had realised, her girl was in trouble
and picked her up and took her away
to a place where people like her could go stay.

And finally after years of trouble and fraught,
this girl knew she was allowed to be distraught…

The cracks in my skin reveal the truth.
The reality that I'm breaking.
My whole being is destroyed slowly
to leave the remains of nothing,
nothing left but a broken shell.

The hollow shell of an empty human.
A forgotten soul neglected in the corners of a dark room.
Left to gather dust and anything possible
to have some sort of value,
to find purpose.

My skin breaks away from me like it never belonged.
Cell by cell my meaning is lost
and that all is left is bones for dead.

But until I get to that point my skin will crack,
and will continue to crack until I'm gone.

If you aren't going to give me any time it's okay.
But don't act like you do
just to meet your preconceived ideas about friendship.

You might give me a compliment from time
and support me in what I do.
But then completely disregarding your promises
isn't okay with me.

So I’m going to find someone who
can give me as much as I can give them.
And for shame, I’m not yours
and your not mine.

I love the idea of smoke,
the fumes clinging to my lungs
and the exasperated gasp to regain air.

The smoke that can burn down a home,
a place filled with memories to be ruined,
ashes of forgotten darkness.

A smoke that can be a sign,
a scream for help and danger.
A reassurance to others of your struggle.

I like your smoke,
the intoxication of your breath,
mixing with mine in a moment of relief.
Before the bitter after taste of realisation.

For nothing can bring me joy,
nothing more than smoke can make me suffer.

I want to run away with you,
Although I barely know you, thats why we’d go,
no past, no ruin, no hurt
Just an adventure for me and you.
A relentless journey to find each other ,
jump off cliffs and write our stories.
Whilst starring into each others souls,
And the speckled sunlight peers though the crevasses
of doors at dawn because we’ve spoke through the night,
forgetting that time itself exists.

Let’s run.

You infect my mind everyday
Evermore thinking of your kiss
The one thing that was taken away
The one thing that I miss

That blank cold stare
Whispers trampling in my mind
You think I don’t care
It’s not cruel to be kind…

Poke it with a stick
Add fire to the flame
I will never run back
Never again

You came with a belt
I locked the door
I fell to the ground
My love was no more

We fell out of love
You shattered my heart
Just pretend like it’s nothing
Whilst I fell apart

Standing here today
Half dead, half alive
You think that you won
But the truth, I survived …

Why am I a joke to you?
No really, because my admiration seems to be undermined
and it’s not because you don’t care,
but that you’ve seen it before.

I’ve told you these feelings many a time
like a book you’ve re-read.
But the words have lost meaning,
my words are dissmissive.
And the whole story is good to you,
but now following the process
just seems completely pointless.

To you, I’m
dispensable.

Today I felt worth-less.
Not in the sense that I had nothing
but like I had less of what I was before.

I guess for some this isn't a bad thing
but for me I'm not too sure...

I want to drown you so I can forget your face,
Pretend like you never existed here
because being here means you are real,
and this reality has broken something I once had ,
leaving me suffocating in my own silence

For the sands of time should be non-existent
as it’s abilities cannot be changed for just one love,
a love that can be forgotten but never altered,
a desire that can never be tamed but only burn brighter

And finally comes my downfall in this bottomless pit,
where only I stand alone in regret and solitude
For the fault here is mine,
For requiring something I cannot take,
rather only something that can be given with sincerity

But to leave this with dignity is too far gone to ask,
A wish of mine that can never be realised,
a pursuit of mine that can only be a paradox
instead of a fixed truth or reality

The unknown silence is killing me.

I forget about it most of the time.
My thoughts only linger in the daylight
where they can dissolve into a nothingness,
Whilst people around me remind of anything less
of what I really want the most.
I don’t want to be alone. I feel like a ghost…

Oh god it's you. And yes, I mean you again
as seeing the sight of you just one more time
will forever remind me that we're not meant to be.

I'm fed up with this romantic crap.
This fogged up appearance of love.
Whispers of fairy tale romances that are really just fiction.

Perhaps I'm wrong. But until I can write my own story
I'd like to be left alone
to discover it with someone else.

why change what isn’t broken, because it can be improved
why build bridges that are broken down, you found other friends in the move
why fix what’s right and wrong, we should fix what the future can hold
why stay another day, no point waiting till your old
why be the hero of the situation, anyone can do if after all
why be a small fish in a pond, there’s advantages to it all…

I type until my fingers are numb,
with messages of reassurance and love.
But you never believe my truth
because my sincerity isn't convincing to you.
You hate yourself for doing nothing wrong
But I hate myself for not be able to do it right,
to fix your problems and send them away.
But the I can't fight your problems that have no face.

The battle you fight constantly
is a background worry for me.
But the battle isn't over when I go to sleep
because the other messages keep on coming through to you.
The thoughts of pain and solitude.
Whispers in the night when you close yours eyes.
And all I can say is "Everything's alright"...

Stop, I can’t fall for you, I’m not allowed,
I’m not allowed to speak out to you
For speaking to you would hurt me more,
bringing me the realisation it will never happen.

Instead I will sit here and write,
I’ll write you encrypted poems you’ve seen,
without knowing they’re for you,
a sign of how I feel for you.

But you don’t get it do you?
How would you know what I feel
when I don’t even know how I feel for you.

The simple answer is you wouldn’t.
You could rip my skin and hear it peel
and not understand that it hurts.
All you would do is see the process
and continue on your way.

I’m screaming for you to talk to me,
as talking to me would bring me a relief,
a relief that it wasn’t all in my head,
that I wasn’t assuming it all.

So end my emotional torture before
I put myself out of this misery and try again.

I should be working right now but I'm not,
a pupil beaming on the inside from her rebellion
all in the name of poetry.
Quite sad really...

But I like writing poetry regardless to work,
it's one thing that I can admit comes naturally.
Well I can admit it to myself but to others no way,
I'd like to seem complacent not arrogant.

So mid my rebellion I'll write with a smile,
not because I'm always happy,
I'll smile because today I'm content.

I thought you loved me,
so I spoke my thought aloud,
but love from me is nothing if it’s broke

You thought it must be a joke,
and as you said it aloud you considered,
who could love me for what I am
but that part you kept closed,
leaving me hollow with your shattering response.

And so I thought you just felt bad
and in light of this situation you tried to make me laugh
as friends do in such awkwardness.

But your jester like quality only brought me hurt
as all my truth and honesty was for nothing,
I thought it was for nothing…

And so I never knew the truth.

You hurt me and you didn’t even know.
Not knowing how to comprehend me can hurt me even more
And not knowing that this unrelated person is my unrelated problem
has caused a hinderance with their unspoken words.
A smile, a touch that’s all it took to turn away
not taking a second look as you walk to her
with your arms open wide,
regardless to the person who was already there
with their arms prepared to break to comfort you.

But your disregard to this leaves my words unanswered,
those unspoken words left forgotten,
buried somewhere deep down in order to remain
the person who watches on by in discomfort…

When I’m looking in your eyes sometimes it’s hard to look away

Because I’m think of the life we could have had, that I dream of someday

But when I see her standing in the light it’s hard to watch the show

One day the curtain will close and I will have to go

Today I'm a ghost,
the cold air whispers through window sills
and hot tea warms up my cup,
with a sip of mediocrity left in my mouth.

Today I'm a ghost,
the thoughts of you fade away
as imprints of blank space are what left remains.

Today I'm a ghost,
my skin pale white and my face numb,
I'm left with nothing.

Tomorrow your ghost leaves
and I can no longer be a ghost with you.
I'm not a ghost, I'm just alone.

I'm not angry at you because I can't be.
The only one to blame here is my misleading self.
Telling me that all the signs are there
when in reality all the signs are going the wrong way
The wrong way to where I thought they would go

On and off, he said they are
but it's never on and off for me
but the truth here is clearly
that no one was wrong, obviously