Does he take care of you?
Does he hold you when you cry?
Does he listen to your fears
and share his own with you?
Where do you feel things?
He feels fear is his throat,
you feel it crawling up your spine
like spiders with too many legs.
What if he doesn't feel
love the same way as you?
That burning, like a shot of *****,
Like you swallowed fire.
What if you don't feel the same?

Have you slept?
(No)
but I dreamed of you.
     It wasn't really a dream
it was a nightmare.
              Have you slept?
(No)
    Then it wasn't a dream.
Was it a nightmare?
     Are you afraid of me?
(Yes)
            *    It was a nightmare.

With every breath,
You exhale fear.
With every gasp,
You inhale death.

You make me feel
like I'm not good enough.

You make my stomach
do somersaults against my will.
My eyes tear up around you.
I think my eyelashes are falling out,
make a wish before there are none left.
I think I'm going to throw up.

You make me feel like I'm not good enough
*and it makes me sick.

Only the good die
and the alarm clock won't stop screaming
Why don't you ever blink?
My voice doesn't echo.
Entropy undoes everything.
The stars go out,
the universe cools,
a closet door creaks open.
My silhouette becomes an infinity of birds

It terrifies me,
truly, utterly, completely
terrifies me.

To know that
someday, I'm going to die
and not be able to save all those people
who I've never met but desperately planned to save.
There will be sunsets that I never see,
light that never touches my skin,
grass I will never walk on.

I'm a drop in the ocean,
a grain of sand,
a pebble.
I wanted to make waves,
but I cannot even manage a ripple

It scares me that I am going to die,
and the world will forget me,
more than it already has.

I call him a monster
when I write about him.
Because I can't imagine
a person would do what he did.
Make him a story, a monster,
Not a human, he can't be.
He couldn't understand the word no,
Nor the pleading and the tears.
He cannot be a person,
with a family, friends,
who listens to old rock music
and eats take out Chinese food on Saturdays.
He can't be a person,
I don't understand.

Will you hide from the sun?
Or shall you bask in
Its golden rays and
Warming light.
The sun touches all,
Reaches all,
Sees all.
You cannot hide from the sun,
But you can try.

I can't sleep with
            The sound of your
                   h e a r t  b e a t
          in my
                   e
                      a
                         r
                            s

I met you that hot summer day
On the side of the road,
Selling produce in the middle of nowhere:
With that strawberry blonde hair
And those adorable freckles.

You were my strawberry boy.
I always loved the taste
but hated the fruit.
But I would but five thousand
Just to see you again.

If I wrote it in blood,
would it mean more?

If you had a soul,
I'd tear it to shreds
and tie it in a bow
as a gift for my
accursed companion.
I'm a friend of the devil.
Are you a friend of mine?

I don't want to burn my bridges,
what if I still need to cross them?
I know they're all using me.
Tell me to stop being a pushover.
They come to me when they need something,
but when I'm falling apart,
it's always alone.
All the kings men couldn't put
humpty dumpty together again.
How am I supposed to do it by myself?
Is this a one way bridge
that I have jumped from?

I saw you again last night
sad eyes, fierce gaze,
Sitting among the silent pews.

You look so broken,
But so beautiful.
Pain is so ethereal on your face,
I wish I could catch it
and wash it away.

I hope you find peace.

Nothing pleasant happens here.
I'm asking you to stay
but telling you to leave.
I don't want to be alone,
but I want you to be happy.
and if you stay,
you should know
nothing pleasant ever happens here.

The roses I planted might never grow.
Maybe they know better.
They don't want to be picked
and handed to a loveless woman
to die in a vase, forgotten on the sill.

You're so cold to touch
on this grey morning.
He promised we'd be forever young
but it's only an eternal dream
with an inevitable end.
The sign said happiness for rent
and I'd take that over a home.
I don't want to know the gory details
and I'd rather not look at the broken souls.
Is this how we intend to live out our days?
I just want to go home once more.

I used to count the stars
when I was anxious.

It was beautiful when
they fell from the sky.
Everyone took pictures
and spoke of the
art of destruction.

There are no stars now
and the night grows cold
and all anyone does
is ask *why?

How do I sleep?
I realize I don't do it
as often as I should.
I lie awake and stare at the ceiling
as the walls close in
and the darkness is blinding
and the silence deafening,
How do I sleep?
I need the rest.
My eyes hurt.

You called me empty,
but all the thoughts in my head
couldn't fill your heart.

The touch of the sunlight,
the warmth of the water
dancing around our ankles,
smell the salt in the air,
fresh and clean and pure.
Little tastes of happiness.
But it's never enough for you.

You think that happiness is a state,
like liquid or gas, something you stay in.
But happiness is in the fleeting moments,
the laughter of friends,
hot chocolate, sweet and smooth
with little marshmallows.

Dancing in the rain,
wearing your favorite shirt,
a walk through the woods,
a hug just a little longer than usual,
the warmth of someone else's arms.
These fleeing moments are
where you find happiness.

The world is obsessed with forced positivity
and everyone is afraid to feel anything else
for fear that their emotions are wrong,
invalid,
unjustified,
because you're not allowed to feel
anything but
happy

The sun sets too early.
There's never enough light
to keep the darkness at bay.
Golden warmth against chilling black,
I begged the sun never to leave.
There's never enough light,
and there's even less hope
to win the war
when my source of light
has run away.

To be honest,
when I ran my hands through the flame,
I somewhat hoped that I would catch fire
and turn to ashes,
to blow away in the wind
and never come back.
*but it just burned

Today I learned,
that I am useless,
that I will be alone,
forever.

All because I told
a man that I am
not interested in ***.

I'm sorry that I cannot
fulfill my purpose in life.
Because clearly,
all that matters is
my ability to please
others.

I never knew how to be happy
But you never knew how to be kind.
Maybe that's why we're both broken now.

Words are ******* tsunamis but people splash them around like they're puddles.

Do you ever feel alone?
Not just alone, but
...alone.

Everything is kind of empty,
and you can't quite feel whole.
Sure, there are people around,
but you don't really feel there,
or maybe it's they who aren't there.

It's not just alone,
it's *lonely.