all of this poetry i have for you and us inside of my head

while you only have whispers and meaningless stutters

who loves whom ‘more’?

you smoke too much
you drink too much
you cry too much
you laugh too much
you forget too much

but sometimes
you need a night
where you do everything
too much

I fill my mind with his voice
until I can not hear anything else
spend my days practicing what his hands would feel like
as they graze my skin
pretend how his lips would move as they mouth
my name

I take his hands, place the fragile key to my thoughts into his grasp
I let him open me, take out the fragments of my soul he finds intriguing
and keep them

I wrap my delicate hands around his strong neck
until he can not speak
and beg him to say he loves me

today i discovered that the rates for suicide are higher than those for homicides. people want to **** themselves more than they desire to **** another. there are homicidal maniacs running amok - hellbent on ending another human life. while the number of individuals who are hellbent on ending the only life they possess, excels.
death is everywhere, and unending. and inevitable. yet preventable.
i paused and felt heavy inside of my heart, the millions of lives that were taken on their own free will.

i would leave home for days
no one would ever ask where i was at
it began to feel as if i could just disappear
without a sound, without a word
no one would come searching for me
maybe that's why i've become so obsessed
with this idea of dying

got out of bed
made a friend
a walk down the street
it was only me

That's the beauty of life
Sometimes you detoriate and die
Sometimes you thrive