From the moment I saw her, I knew she was worth my broken heart.

Whether it was she who broke it repeatedly or not.

I wanted her to show me the most damaged parts,

her soul,

and I wanted to show her how it still shone like gold.

it still dared to leave a mark

every word,

every thought,

Every moment we had

every half smile,

and every sigh,

every almost conversation,

I do not know why.

but it still left its mark,

It left traces only she could put

inside of my heart.

It's only you that i want,

that I need,

that I could have,

But also you weren't mine to keep.

I wanted to be held by you,

feel your hands on me,

Your lips on my skin,

I wanted you to feel what I had felt for you.

And I had a deeply hidden

And inarticulate desire for something beyond,

It's an inclination, disposition.

an impulse, a craving, a yearning.

This wasn't as ruining,

But yet it has taken every part of me to not think of.

A libido for you, a sensuality,

Lust to take all that I had to give,

And I'd given it—

What kills love?

Only this, neglect.

Not to see when you stand before me,

Not to think of you in simplicity,

Yet so diverse and explicitly complex.

to choose you out of habit,

And not desire.

to say your name without hearing it,

And to assume you are mine,

When I can never be yours.

My next sin,

Derelicting ourselves,

Neglect and disregard.

What feels like a stab to the heart,

And the crack of a skull,

One of the most heartbreaking to all--

Everyone witnesses your destruction,

When you're tearing yourself apart

and constantly trying to heal

those wounds you’ve wrecked in half.  

You're intimidating and brooding,

And people see the smoldering flames

with the raging winds.

My sin was indignation, a wrath,

Fury and exasperation.

Anger does harm,

And if you hold it in your heart

It will eat at your walls,

And spill out the guts of the lives of people you love.

It will destroy you, and

I have already destroyed myself too—

Jealously is the tie that binds,

And binds,

And binds

It was the way you spoke about,

What you couldn't have,

Yet what you wanted so bad.

With animosity,

Regret,

Disdain,

And underneath it all, just a hint of pride.

And it's truth that,

The bullets of jealousy **** the shooter too.

Verily, It destroys good deeds, as fire would destroy,

Incinerate,

And ravish

anything,

As flames eradicate feelings,

In which jealousy is pain,

Obsession,

And envy,

In which we all blame the feelings of jealousy,

For the things we can't  ever really have.

The mind is more awake, and trembling than anything else,

leaving one to be anything but restful.

It brings deep nights of consciousness,

while precious minutes pass by too swiftly.

The mind is a void, although silence speaks utterly loudly.

It screams.

It hollers in a room that only echoes so far.

It's an enclosure, an aviary in which you are the feathered friend,

keeping the bars company.

It's an inferno, in which erupts chaotically,

demolishing all good in it's path.

It's a vessel, awaiting a titanic tragedy,

to be dismantled, and submerged into it's own nemesis it willingly walks upon.

It screams, and it burns, and it drowns all in its trail.

Leaving no trace but the agonising silence,

all sound devoured by a faultless beast.

This

is

how

I

feel.