Don’t love me.
Please, don’t love me.
I know myself, we’re quite close actually, and let me tell you, you don’t want to fall for her,
you don’t want that girl, I hate her.
I hate her because I know her so well and I know how horrible the truth can smell.
Don’t love me, because even I know to hate myself,
the vanity that despite this loathing I might actually believe that someone could fall for me.
Don’t love me.
Don’t love me, because I met Heartbreak once and she left me gasping for air
and I will never meet her again.
I refuse, so if you love me, please be aware that when you do,
some day I am going to leave you, battered and bruised, because
twisted self-preservation has taught me all the tricks to keep myself afloat by drowning you.
Don’t love me.
Because as much as I will love you, I’m not friends with Commitment,
and whenever I see him on the horizon I set off running in the opposing direction.
I will treat you like there will be no oxygen unless I’m holding you,
but when you’re the one reaching for my hand I’ll become the wind.
Commitment is not my friend, I said, but no one listens.
Don’t love me, because I am a tornado, a storm to chase until I’ve taken everything from you.
Don’t love me.
Someday, you will be married and happy, and I will
whirl back into your life like the hurricane that has never been named after me, and
you will believe that all your scars
and your broken heart
have healed enough that you can run with me.
But I have razors between my fingers and wedged in my teeth,
and your scabbed over heartstrings will be powerless against me.
I am an expert at running, at hurting, at ‘maybe’s.
Don’t love me.
When you ask me for something more,
I will tell you that I am not ready, because I never will be.
Chances scare me, and trusting someone so much will always be risky.
I will tell you that I am not in the right place for your Commitment,
for your future Heartbreak,
and you will tell me that you understand but you’ll stick with me,
and fire will consume everything.
Don’t love me.
I can’t even go a few years with a friendship before
burning it all for at least a few evenings, but we’ll always rebuild the
rickety ashes of the bridges we’ve passed.
Don’t love me.
I’m only saying it for your safety.

I promise I’m trying my best not to back out

and I promise and I promise and I know that you’re okay with me being unsure  

but it feels like I’m just a lost cause waiting for the inevitable day when you see

that this is it

this is all you’re getting from me

it feels like a lie though from day one you knew what you were getting into

and I tell you all the time that I can’t even figure myself out

and you offer to help me solve the puzzle but I don’t understand why you’re so willing

when I give you no guarantees

I guess you must love me

not weighing up the pros and cons like I do

you love unconditionally

like you're supposed to

and I can't help feeling like I'm not holding up my end of the deal

and even though I do all I can

I don’t think I'll ever feel the way that you do  

is that enough for you?

No, I don't.
Oh one who
takes pride in
denouncing love,

Look at yourself.

Unable to accept who
you are without another.
Creating a false sense of loneliness
by ignoring the relationships you have
in favor of the one you do not.

You believe that you are
rebellious in your isolation
but when it comes down to it
what is more radical:
Cynicism and bitterness
or Love.

To you valentine antagonist:
I Love You.

I'm scared, okay?
I'm scared I'll never be loved,
I'm scared I'll never be held,
I'm scared I'll never be wanted.

I don't know how to change this.
I'm not one of feelings,
I can't express them.

I'm scared my thoughts will push you away
I'm scared my bones won't hold me straight
I'm scared I'll never find a way to
be loved.

"Can I interest you in a sarcastic comment?"
is something like Chandler would say
But what if I can't even make my own
defense mechanism protect me?
What if you don't like my jokes;
the only thing that might be good in me?
But that's not even the problem, is it?
I can't even find strengths to tell'em out loud
I can't even let you decide if you'll laugh or leave
I can't even

I'm scared, okay?
I'm scared that no one will ever know me,
will never want to know me
I'm scared I'll never find the words to fool you,
to make you think I might be interesting
I'm scared no one will ever think I'm worthed
of spending their whole life with
Why would they?
I'm just a quiet dull girl

I'm scared, okay?
Because
I love myself, okay?
I do.
I'm scared I won't ever find anyone else
that will love me as much as I do
I'm scared that's all that's left for me
Keep being one thing only:
unlovable
as I've always been

In solitude I retreat,
a hermit seeking solace.
Depression, my companion,
wrapping me in its Melancholic shroud.

I sever threads of connection,
Words become heavy stones,
and I carry them alone.

If possible, I seek forgiveness for my withdrawal,
For it is not you I flee from,
but the tempest within that threatens to consume me.

When storms rage, I seek refuge
in the caves of my mind,
where echoes of past battles revive.

But know this, my tender-hearted muse,
Your tears are constellations,
each drop a universe of hurt.

I ache to see your face again.
Yet my hands tremble,
afraid that their touch will unravel storms.

So here I stand silent,
Know that my withdrawal is not apathy,
but a dance of desperation.

When the tempest subsides,
when I emerge from my self-imposed exile,
I'll trace constellations upon your skin, and
and whisper, "I was lost, but now I'm found."

For in silence, I seek healing,
and in your eyes, I find my North Star.

How strange it seems that still my heart should yearn,
For those beside me, whom I seek, and spurn.

I ask of them from those who cross my sight,
Though they walk with me, like shadows in the light.

My eyes pursue them, though they're close at hand,
As if their nearness slips like grains of sand.

They dwell within the blackness of my eyes,
Yet still, in longing, every heartbeat sighs.

My heart aches for them, though they're near to stay,
So close to my ribs, yet they drift away.

In every breath, their absence burns anew,
They are my presence, yet I bid adieu.

What spell bewitches so the soul to pine,
For company that's here, yet lost in time?

Within my core, their essence does reside,
Yet longing forms, an ache I cannot hide.

Strange fate! To feel such yearning’s endless plight,
To hold them close, yet miss them out of sight.

For though their presence graces my embrace,
My soul still chases what it cannot trace.

I was never asked to choose a side,
it is to fate I must abide.
I am the child that war has aged, I am the soul that time has caged.

I am the breeze lost in a storm,
I am that flower whose stem was torn.
I am a dream never achieved,
I am the innocence that war conceived.

Among the rubble I stand alone, my precious home a pile of stone. Out in the cold without a cover,
I starve to death or may recover.

I am the cries and all the screams,
I am the victim of corrupt regimes.
In every battle or every war,
it is my blood they always draw.

I am a bird without his wings,
I am the child who lost his limbs. Amidst the fear and all the dread, I am a body amongst the dead.

To every general who wears a star,
I am the one who bears the scar. I am the only voice of hope,
with all the horror I have to cope.

I am bewildered and feel ashamed,
to see serenity within the sane.
I am, the child of war.

The world is my movie screen,
I’m constantly being reminded,
That I am only a spectator,
In this ****** up life.
My hands are not my hands,
Yet they’re right in front of me.
The thing is, I can never press pause.
I am always on the go.
It’s as if my mind is a separate deity,
Than my body.
I look in the mirror,
And see someone who I know
Is supposed to be me.
However, this fog that constantly
Fills my brain makes me feel as if I am
Walking on clouds, unaware of my steps.
I wish I could see the world in 1st person.
Instead of this bright, oversized world,
That pounds with every step I take.
I feel nothing which means I feel everything.
It’s just all in the inside, constantly building up,
Without notice.
It’s as if I am driving a rental car.
I know how to drive but the car is foreign to me.
The gears work, but they aren’t mine.