She sips the cup of black coffee, which is
equivalent to the taste of death on her lips.
Before you she drowned her coffee in milk
and sugar to make it sweet enough that it
was just like her soul. But when you came
along she grew dark, and her soul became
less sweet as did her coffee. The day you left
was the last time she ever poured even a
speck of sugar and a drop of milk in her
coffee. Her soul rotted, and she was dead
inside, so as she had always done, she
drank her coffee black to represent her soul.
A soul that was once so sweet it could replace the darkness out of any living being just with the tiniest glimmer in her eyes. Unlike her the others had eyes, eyes which were the blackest of all shades of black, they looked as if you could see right into their soul and feel the pain inside of them. She could feel a feeling shes never felt before, she felt nothing as if they were dark tunnels leading no where but to more darkness. That feeling now became her own, she could finally understand what they felt. She could now feel how it felt to feel nothing, she was numb. Her eyes were always brown, but before they were a brown like her sweetened coffee but now they're as dark as the coffee that tastes like death. Her eyes really did show her soul and it showed everything she felt. All the pain and heartbreak. She constantly burnt her tongue on her scorching hot death but she was used to it because her heart was burnt and turned to dust. She never was happy as long as she drank her cup of death in the morning. And she always drank her coffee black now, no matter how much like death it tasted.

You made her a walking heartache by leaving, leaving without a goodbye, leaving her with nothing but your fingerprints smudged n her heart like stained glass doors. You see, if you dusted her heart for fingerprints, you'd only find yours, but I guess you haven't came back around to finish your spring cleaning, now I have weeds growing around my ribcage, blooming thorns instead of roses, I'm all torn and worn, I guess that's what happens when you care for people a little too much, you get so interested in their story, but they only read the title of yours, leaving you to turn into a dust ball of Death's-head Hawkmoths, showing no yellow, orange, and red hue colors, just the color of death. And if you had bothered to come back after destroying me, you would find flies eating away at my rotting heart after leaving me for the dead. My story has been destroyed, and now my heart is rotting like a dead body thats been buried for too long. Every part of me has turned to dust after you walked away leaving me in the debris of the tornado that was you. All you leave is destruction in your path, not leaving anything as it was. You destroyed me and then you left, you didn't bother trying to fix me even after everything you caused. My heart broke and I died again and again, after you I was walking around dead with a stone cold heart. You made her into debris, not by your car, but by your words. She takes walks beneath the stars, and has too many long talks with the streetlights, they talk about you a lot, but mostly how you were a pig, never treating her the way she should've been, the way she could've been. She changed moods with every season, but you never really noticed, and it wasn't changes for the better, you see you made her weak and brittle, and you tossed her around like she was a sack of old bones, so nothing seemed to matter, you didn't care. You're a fool, didn't you see the way her eyes would light up when she's look at you?¿ or was that the ground?¿ she always knew her hazel colored eyes best. You never saw the way she smiled whenever she saw you, nor did you see how quickly it disappeared when no one was around. You never called her beautiful when she didn't have make up on, was it because you were scared that once that thought popped into your mind you knew you were ******* from that very second?¿ or did you just really not believe?¿ Because everyone else who saw her would have told her how beautiful she really was, and anyone she loved would love her just as much, but not you, yet she still loved you with all her heart. Maybe she thought the more love she gave, the less you would be scared of commitment, because thats why you never stay in one place for too long isn't it?¿ why you never finish a book, why you never unpack your bags?¿ You were so scared of commitment you left the one person who was trying to help and you broke her and made her scared to love.

******* for putting butterflies in my stomach and making me feel this way. I never asked for this, I never asked to love someone. I was perfectly fine being a self-loathing ***** who didn't care about anyone and then you came around and changed all that. Now I never go a day — no, a minute — without thinking about you and now I care about someone. You ruined my whole thing about being independent and not needing anyone, not being attached to anyone, and I hate you for that. But I can't hate you because I love you so much — I am IN love with you. Loving you makes me hate you more but — **** we already went through this. Well guess what, I've tried to get over you but it never ******* works. I pretend I'm over you for like a week but then I find myself thinking about you again, thinking if everything I want to say to you. You know what I will write everything I've ever wanted to say right here, but first you need the whole story.
We met in 7th grade. I didn't give you a second glance. My friend liked you. We were talking, then I started liking you. Most people knew I liked you. 8th grade comes around, **** I still like you. People ask if I still like you — a year is sooo long to have a crush, so I lie and say no. But I noticed more that year, I noticed how your smile dropped when your friends weren't looking. I noticed how thin you were, just like me. (oh my god I ******* hate how you make me feel). Then of course you and your friends joke around "oh he likes her" haha sooo funny. But wait, they said you liked me? Did I hear that right? Crap now I'm blushing; and they see me, and they have to announce that. (******* ******* *******). After 8th grade I tried texting you but you didn't really care I just made a fool of myself. Then we would talk a bit, again I made a fool of myself. And thats really the end of our interactions. But there's more to the story, my feelings!!
You make me feel so terrible, like I want to break everything in sight and then lay in the mess I made because I know you hate me and I hate you too. You keep me up all hours of the day because I'm thinking of you and I can't stop. I want to text you at midnight to say everything I've ever wanted to (maybe I'll send you this tonight) but I would make a fool of myself. You are my addiction, you are the drug that runs through my veins and no matter how hard I try I always end up back to you. No treatment could help me get over you, you're just so addicting. If you called and told me that you wanted to run away with me, I would drop everything in a split second. Hell if you called me to say you were gonna **** me I would drop everything in a split second. I rather be dead than know that we were never meant to be, because to me we were made for each other. You make me write ******* poems for you even though I hate you. I hate you I hate you I hate you. You make my heart explode and then your thoughts take over my brain and make my brain explode. I'm never not thinking about you. Every love song I hear on the radio reminds me of you. I wish we could have a relationship that people are jealous of, but we aren't even really friends anymore so who would be jealous of that. You make me write nonsense but that's okay because I like writing nonsense about you. You make me cry if I think about you too much. I would have my calendar circle around you, I would do anything you asked.
I say I hate you, but I never could, I'll always love you. So ******* for that.

Day and night I think of you. Everything about you; the way you smile and laugh, the way your eyes light up when you do, all the freckles on your face, your messy hair, just everything about you. I love you, I still do, I never stopped. But I let you go without realizing, and now I know but there's nothing I can do about it, it's too late. I let you go and started to welt. I became a flower who resulted in her own death. I dream about kissing your lips and head every night but wake up to the burning of alcohol and cigarettes on my tongue instead. They say that love is beautiful, but never have they ever mentioned about the hurt and addiction. You became the drug in my veins and I suddenly died watching you running out of my body without having the guts to say a word. I still can't get you out of my mind not that I ever want to. You will be my poison until the day I die, I know that already. If I could go back, I would tell you everything I know. So maybe instead of me wrapped up in my blanket dreaming it's you, our limbs would be intertwined and I wouldn't have to dream about kissing you because I actually could. But I can't go back in time and I can't change things so all I can do is hope you realized what we had and maybe we could meet again in the future and then I could tell you everything. But until then I have to bear with dreams and daydreams of you, thinking about you every second of the day. Until then I have to try and stop thinking of you but that will never happen because I'm not that strong. I can drown the thoughts of you with *****, so instead of you running through my veins I have alcohol. But even drunk I think of you no matter how hard I try. So I can stop trying and let thoughts of you overthrow every other thought in my dumb brain and let my stupid heart take over.

Day and night I think of you. Everything about you; the way you smile and laugh, the way your eyes light up when you do, all the freckles on your face, your messy hair, just everything about you. I love you, I still do, I never stopped. But I let you go without realizing, and now I know but there's nothing I can do about it, it's too late.

The old abandoned light house that was always on the shore. I never stopped shining bright to guide the lost ships home. I never lost my use, the abandoned light house was always there. Light houses are supposed to sleep in the sunlight, and keep awake at night, alert of all surroundings, like a watchdog. I might not look like much, you see, they call me abandoned because I haven't been touched in quite some time, but I promise a story hides beneath these cracks I like to call wrinkles from smiling a wee bit too much at the hue colored sunsets, but that's the thing, ships like to mistake my smile for something else, they see my smile  and they usually look for a way to leave, and they don't see the word "stay" tattooed on my *****, I guess stay doesn't mean anything. The ships never stay for long, just short stops to refuel or rest. Though my light is always guiding them home, they rarely come back. Sometimes I scare them away, I guess they only see this abandoned light house as something to fear, and not something to love. My cracked windows and fading colors don't attract many fans my way. They don't love broken and run down things, always looking for the newer ones. But no matter what they do I'll always shine my light to guide the ships home. I wonder how many strangers carry pieces of a shipwreck in their rough, sandpaper-like hands, I wonder how many strangers won't find their way back home tonight, I wonder if their wives' lipstick stained their hearts just because they knew they may never get to wake up accompanied by their significant other again. I see so many stories in rosy checked - unshaved beard faces, and it makes my light illuminate them instead of what lies ahead of them because I want to be used as their hotel for one night, maybe a one night stand type of deal, I just want to be filled with laughter, and I want their words to stick in my mouth. I want to feel their love, the love of a sailor lost at sea who finally found his way home. I want to know what its like to be missed so much after being gone for so long, but people don't miss anything thats abandoned, let alone a light house that still shines. I want to be cared for like the sailors when they get home, treated like something people need and want so dearly. I know I'm needed, but they don't see that. I am not wanted by anyone, I'm just a ramshackle light house that no one likes to see. My light may help guide them, but they don't care for me as I do for them. They look forward to seeing land, to going home, but they don't look forward to see my light. I want people to stay long enough to see the waves crash into each other, and see the way the stars twinkle like tiny fires on the water in the moonlight. You see, I still sing, but my melodies sound like the moans and groans of ghosts, maybe that's what scares everyone off?¿ my life is an open book, most people don't read more than a few paragraphs...this sinking feeling is knowing that my light doesn't want to be seen with me anymore, so it dies off like the life inside me did.

The doors to the house are closed, the rooms of the house are quiet. She roams the empty halls, the walls looming. Her skin smells of roses and raspberries, her hair softly swaying. She is beautiful, but unaware. She doesn't know what everyone else does. She doesn't know how they look at her, what they think of her. She thinks a lot in the quiet house, she thinks too much. She thinks of everything there is in life, it's what she does to pass the time in the empty house. Her life is slow and quiet. She has forgotten how it feels to be alive. Tonight the sky is clear, and she leaves the empty house. She walks out into the world, feeling full and alive. The stars make beautiful constellations, and as she walks, her eyes are skyward. Her white cotton dress swishes in the gentle breeze. The streetlights paint the road amber, and the moonlight washes her face in a pale shimmer. She walks and walks, never looking back. Her eyes glow in the moonlight and shimmer like the stars. She goes far, away from the empty house, away from everyone and everything. She finds an empty field, as big as the sky, and lays on the grass. She looks at the stars, wishing she could be among them, wishing she could fly to the stars. One day she will get there, but for now she can dream it. She dreams of being a star, and she really does light up people's live.