And so he falls apart.
Cracks at the seams as he tries so desperately to crawl his way out.
There’s no turning back.
He can’t erase what’s already been done.
And the memories chew at every thought.
It’s all he can think about.
Mistakes, betrayal, failures, and all that’s gone wrong.
If by some miracle he takes a step forward,
he somehow always goes two steps back.  
He want to change.
The numb feeling in his soul he can’t take anymore.
And alone he can’t do this.
His heart constantly begging for help.
Perhaps help is out there.
If only he could find her.

The time I spent with you I never regret.
I learned so much about myself in your presence,
and more than I could have imagined,
I fell in love with someone I wanted to spend forever with.
Ironically though forever now seems impossible.
Every day is a waiting game,
and I do not know if this second will be the last.
So I turn away.
Leave behind what made me so happy.
And all the memories I’ll treasure
will only remain as that.
I do not want you to see me the way I will become.
Goodbyes laced with anger will hurt far less than a goodbye at the edge.
And I’m sorry it’s come to this.
I’d turn my days around if I could,
and all the lies would never have to be.
But I can’t hold onto hope when hope flickers so small.

With a fire in my heart,
I write love stories that aren't fairytales.
Though beautiful,
fairytales aren't all that magical,
and life just doesn't work that way.

No love story is a happy ever after,
and no love story can ever be real.
Life is full of heartaches, tragedies, and broken promises.
Even if love sticks around,
it never runs that smoothly.

Love is not a highway,
but a cobbled road,
sometimes lonely,
or a tidal wave during a storm,
fighting to pull you under.

Though love is ugly,
it too is beautiful.
Love can endure the worst.
Illness, temptation, anger, and a sadness no one wants to bare.
It's stronger than anything,
and more solid than most.
It casts out fear,
and defeats hate.
It's what I write about.
The good and the bad.

I said I didn't need you,
that you were okay where you were.
But truth was I wasn't the one that was okay.
I was left with the unknown,
afraid if tomorrow would ever come,
and how many mornings I would get to see.
I lied.
I did need you,
and on the cold hard floor with my bags in front of me,
I dialed your familiar number,
and begged you to come.
What I didn't know was you were already there.
You saw through my mask
and knew me better than I knew myself.
I was too in shock,
and all you cared about was being there,
holding my hand through it all,
and looking at me with those same caring eyes
I have gotten to love these few years.

Though I wasn't there when you were at your absolute worst.
Through I didn't hold your hand when you trying to get better,
thinking more about myself than you in that ugly bed,
with those sad eyes,
and the smile that would not return for months.  
I was there in the before and the after,
but I didn't keep my own promise to you when I said I wouldn't leave,
and because of that I regret each moment you crumbled more and more,
and the light that left your face.
I told myself I would do my hardest to not let it escape again when it came back.

And now here you are,
whispering the words I wish I had said to you in your breakdown,
telling me it will be okay,
and that you love me.
That no matter what happened,
you aren't going anywhere.
A kiss on the lips and I know you are right.
You are my rock,
my solid ground when everything inside of me is falling apart
You are that voice I can listen to when the machines get too loud.
And the song in my head I never want to stop.
In sickness you are here with me.
From every outburst or tear I cry,
to each strand of hair I loose,
and watching the color draining from my face.

I wasn't there when the battles with your own fight got too hard.
When your mind kept playing tricks,
and you didn't know how to make it stop.
And all the nightmares that kept returning,
haunting your every waking moment.

But today,
right now,
that doesn't matter.
We're together and if for some reason I don't make it through to see your eyes in the morning,
I'll spend this moment here and now getting lost in them and you getting lost in mine.

I exploded into a terror of destruction when you walked into my life,
but at the same time I fell into the glowing light you shined all around me.
I was failing fast,
about to be completely shattered,
lost in a mess of the grandest kind.
I would have drowned if you hadn't swam in and carried me out.
And though I crashed and burned the only blanket that held my tears,
it was for you.
I know I destroyed what could have been,
I let my darkness get the best of me.
Created a story that tore apart the pages of what was real.
I was running,
loosing fast.
Until something stopped me.
And in a fire burning bright,
I came to.
My eyes opened,
and I could finally see clearly.
I knew what was wrong.
Maybe I could fix it.
I’m not sure,
but I’ll try.

If I had followed Peter,
I would have never grown up,
and my child like imagination would have stayed intact.
If I had read all the books like Belle,
I could have seen the beauty and wonder long before I missed out.
I wouldn’t have been so quick to judge.
If I could have had the courage to do what I long to do,
maybe Merida could have helped me through.
And if I had been a little more me,
and a lot less of what the world wanted,
then maybe I could embrace the uniqueness inside of me that Lilo never had a problem with.
Maybe I would have chased my dreams.
But who knows.
The future is still there,
and as long as tomorrow comes,
there is hope.
And I’ll try to embrace that.

Someone once thought my poetry was ****.
Scoffed at what I wrote about.
Truth be told,
it did hurt.
And I replayed their words that day letting it eat me up inside.
A part of me didn’t want to write anymore.
But how could I turn my back on something I loved more than anything?
It’s impossible for me to leave behind the very thing that makes me smile,
and in a way has saved me numerous times.
It’s my outlet when my head becomes too complicated,
and each breath feels like a chore.
I don’t write to please others.
I write what’s on my heart and what fills my brain.
If for some reason someone doesn’t like it,
than so it be.
I’m just being true to me.
And here I am,
still writing,
still breathing.