I hope he finds his Ms.Understanding, because all he is was misunderstood.

All her life she avoided empty spaces only to die with a sign in place of her heart that flashes 'VACANCY'.

Our first date involved you shoving your tongue down my throat and i don’t know if it’s because you couldn’t get enough of me or you couldn't get rid of the taste of her.

I'm sorry. I love you.

I'm sorry that I love you.

Death Lives Forever

I am not the storm.

I am the aftermath.

She kept her walls up for so long, she forgot what a door was.

I'd rather be your second best than the worse first.

fOreVER

I've mastered the art of grieving for something I haven't lost.

The walls are closing in and i hear my demons knocking at the door.
The screeching of the shadows and the sirens are much louder than before.
I sworn myself to secrecy but the secrets are not mine to keep,
and my mouth will keep on running until i run out of gasoline.
My body is a temple but i let the princess down when i lent the key to her palace out to the public.

If i were to be honest,
I'm scared of who i have become.
And if i weren't on this **** medication,
it'll seem i could finally find somebody who would love me for just me,
and not some drugged up version of a chemical imbalance.
I thought i was perfect before.

I guess not.
Nothing ever happens like I planned,
and that's the way life planned it.
And if i think right,
he will leave me once again,
and that's what he intended.

But if he comes back to me,
what was will never be and what will be
will never be what it was once before.

If i were to be honest,
I'm not sure if i could handle the disappointment i set myself up for
months before our reunion.
Tell me how it feels to **** me once again with your words.
Smother me slowly, and cover me completely with the flowers that you picked on our first date.
Those of which have never died
just like my love for you.

But your feelings have wilted with the seasons.
You come and go as you please,
and i am just the fool who believed them,
the lies you sold to me in the
bouquet of the week.

I love sleeping, but I love you more.


And to think I wonder why I always have dark circles under my eyes- the same eyes that are always staring at your last words to me.

Today, my therapist brought your name up again.

I wish she would just leave you where you belong- in the past.

My tombstone would read tragedy. But you were no Romeo, and Juliet was not me.
You didn't have to take your life to make me want to end mine.
All you had to do was leave the first time.
Your grave would be dug deep to make up for your shallow heart.
How does it feel when your words make your daughter hang like the art on the walls in the house you left her in last.
How does it feel knowing she can't get passed her own past that you've helped make worse.
How does it feel to take away the pleasure of her first love being her first.

The only gift you gave her was the habit of flinching when others touch her body because she thinks it's you coming back to finish what you started.
She can't bear to look people in the eyes because she can see her own pathetic reflection.
Instead, she glances at their hands to see if they're made for affection rather than being strong enough to hold a grip around her throat like a noose.
It's hard for her to remember a time before the abuse.

She was so young when she learned to hold her breath in presence of a man in fear of reminding him she was there.
A sitting duck with nothing but hope for the drugs to keep him calm but the high never lasted that long.
My mother thought it was a good idea to bring him back into my life.
I think it hurts more when they know what they're leaving behind but i don't mind.
Because being left twice never felt so nice.

The warmth of his body against mine.
The gentle touch of his fingers on my skin.
His left thumb slowly dragging across my bottom lip, chin, and neck, delicately being placed above my collarbone.
His index drawing invisible infinities on my shoulder.
Middle, resting ever so lightly after a night filled with lust.
On his ring finger, a wedding band, similar to mine.
His pinkie, keeping all of its promises over the years no matter how small.
Each finger playing a different role,
All intertwined with mine now.
An innocent touch.

Worth the wait.

My dream was killed by my secret told.

My date was set.
I had my plan.
I made the mistake by telling a friend. 
She told the school.
I was sent away,
to a place with judges and people like me. 
We were caged birds chirping to be free.
And when I was there, I found my new dream.

I achieved it by behaving "normal",
Whatever that may be.
I achieved it by taking the poison, 
Prescribed specifically to me.
I achieved it by looking forward, 
and never again of the past.
Three to five days of being a slave,
I was finally home at last.

I now hope to find a new dream,
and I dream to find my hope.
But seeing the mountain in front of me-
The one named recovery,
I often question my mentality. 
There is a smooth road of relapse that taunts me,
with words like sugar that haunt me.
It dares me to walk, but I know I should climb.
The road wants to **** me, but the mountain promises my life.

I'm following the trail of the mountain, 
but I often slip on the blood.
With the words of friends and supporters, 
I once again stand up.
There's a steep incline,
but it's worth the time.
In the deepest valley,
I know I will rise.
I'm a wingless bird chirping to be free. 
Happiness is locked, waiting for the key.
I search in my pocket,
for the object to unlock it.
I then realize the only one who could free me-
is me.

And just like that, I found my new dream.

THREE THINGS YOU WOULD DO IF YOU WEREN'T SO AFRAID.**

-talk to him again

-love him again

-finally forget him

I don't like myself.
I'm not up to par.
I'm just a speck in the galaxy,
While everyone else is a star.
I don't see myself in ten years, 
I don't see myself in three.
I am nothing to remember,
For I am just me.
I don't want to be myself.
I want to be sane,
But I know that will never happen,
I'll always remain the same.
I confuse myself, 
Because I don't want to change. 

I don't like myself,
but I'll always be me.
I have to accept it,
For me to finally see.
I was put here for a reason,
and a reason will come my way.
I may not be "living",
But I'm surviving every day. 

I may not like myself,
But I'll be there through thick and thin. 
Soon, one day, I'll pass away,
and see I was my best friend.

Find someone who doesn't mind tears.

Small talk has to be the most torturous thing. I want to know more than a one word description on how your day was. I want to stay up all night listening to when your next doctor appointment is and what it is you hate about yourself. I want you to be comfortable enough with me to tell me the things that keep you up at night. Tell me why, when you're alone, you play your favorite song from 2008. Tell me how it felt to touch her for the last time. Don't hold back, tell me what ****** you off. Tell me what your biggest fear is and what you believe will happen once we die. What is your favorite movie and why do you only root for the bad guys? When do you think the world will end? Who were you before you met me and what do you want to be when you grow up? Do you think a person ever "grows up"? What's your favorite color? Can you describe it without saying the name? What are your pet peeves? Tell me what's going through that mind of yours. Small talk is pointless because I know you have so much more to say

Falling in love is dangerous. For when you fall in love, you pay a price. A price so unrealistic that you simply cannot pull out your checkbook and write down "here is my everything, please handle with care, very fragile" and expect it to cover the debt. No. You give your heart and your soul. Your mind is always cluttered with thoughts of them. Your body tingles when you hear their voice. You become addicted and you expect more and more, so you keep paying until one day, there's nothing left. You're completely theirs and your definition of home…begins with their name.

And just thinking about that is terrifyingly beautiful. Something could happen, and all that will be left of you are tears and a cracked voice to match the holes that cover the walls. Now there is no place to call home, you gave them everything. Someday you will be asked the question of what they returned and you'll reply: "they gave enough to make it seem like a lifetime of happiness, and more importantly, that feeling of love…was infinite."

In the end, there would be pain and you knew this, but you still them your all. You are stronger than you think and believe me when I say you will regain your all back.

Falling in love is dangerous, but you cannot stop it, you cannot slow it down, and you cannot escape it. So it's understandable to be scared, but just know it's okay to take that fall…especially for him.

This is not a poem about the poem you've carved into my mind months ago, or how the words somehow reached my bloodstream, or even about the moment I realized that with every heartbeat my body will give, I will always be cursed with a reminder of you and the the things that could've been but never would be. This is not a poem about how I could delete everything we've ever had, but I still cannot erase my feelings I have had for you. This is not a poem about how I cannot forget, or perhaps how I do not wish to forget the only person who made me feel something.

This is not a poem.
*This is regret

I should have seen the warning signs.
Maybe then i could have prevented it.
Maybe i could have told her something, anything that would have made her feel better.

you couldn't

I should have seen the warning signs.
Maybe then i could have told somebody.
Maybe then i could have gotten the help she needed.

i wouldn't listen

I should have seen the warning signs.
Maybe then i wouldn't be sitting here, reading the obituaries, trying to erase her name.

it was unpreventable

I should have seen the warning signs.

*you did