How do I tell my mother
That the reason I refuse
To clean my room
Is because I swore
That before I could **** myself
I would leave the place sparkling for her?

How do I explain
That every time she begs me to pick up
The ***** clothes from my floor
I refuse to do so
Because I am begging for thread

Praying for a reason to hang on
Other than my ***** room

I’m sick of being lonely
In a pool full of people
Who’ll only swim towards me
if I swim to them first  

If I wasn’t the one
Who always picked up the phone
Went to your name
Typed out a message
And pressed send

Would I ever hear from you again?

If I wasn’t the one
To call you up
And tell you how much
I missed you

Would I ever hear you say the same?

To be honest
it's hard to see the bigger picture
when I'm surrounded
by incomplete works.

But maybe the point
is not to get to the end
or to celebrate our finishing's.

But instead it is to feel
the journey
and not mourn the missing puzzle piece,
but rather
to enjoy the pleasure in finding it.

Sitting here waiting.
For what?
For a sign or a chance or an invitation.
I don’t really know.
But maybe it’s time for me
To become a sign or a chance or an invitation.

To stop waiting for the world to love me,
And instead learn to love myself

In the midnight dark
Of my lonely room
Your name spills from my lips.

Not in the way of romance,
But in true despair.
The further you go, the more you slip.

Not even a shadow of you remains,
There is no light here to reflect your silhouette.
So instead your name gives me solace
For one last broken night.

Tomorrow I will let myself forget you.
I will breath out the last of your air
And inhale my new beginnings.
The sweet relief of freedom will make me once more bright.

One day I’ll open my eyes
And feel relief.

It won’t ache,
And for the first time
In a Long time,
Sadness will not be my only belief.

For the first second
I won’t think about it.
I will open my eyes
And see the sun.
I will hear the birds,
And I will feel their peace.

I will bathe in the beauty
That surrounds me.
Skin soft. Thoughts soft.
My life won’t be on lease.

One day I’ll open my eyes,
And feel
Relief

It’s hard,
Wanting someone who doesn’t even know you exist.
A world full of people, and you chose them.
And they choose their person,
Who doesn’t even know they exist.