I have no one to talk to
no one to vent to
no one to take off the burdens
no one to set me free.

He used to listen to me
he used to care about what I had to say.
I used to care about him
before he cared about her instead.

Now I'm all alone
to cry about my dad.
Now I'm all alone
to deal with my insecurities.
Now I'm all alone
to fight against the knife.

Now no words have left my lips
since his lips have been on her.

Drawing lines on myself
with a knife in place of a pen,
wanting someone to see,
anyone to see.

Because no one sees
that my tears are a cry for help,
that whenever I make suicide jokes
they're less of joke
and more of a fantasy.
That I don't just wear sleeves all the time
because I'm constantly cold.

So I'll finish my sketch
and display it for everyone to see.
I hope everyone likes it.
Not everyone likes abstract art after all...

"He loves me," I sigh,
before I pick the petal.
"H-he loves me not..."

You call me your goddess.
That I rule over all that
is intelligent and beautiful
You never hesitate to
put me up on a podium
and praise me for my qualities

And how did I earn this position?
By being myself.
He doesn't force me to change,
he doesn't even want me to change

I wish everybody could be like that.
That instead of setting the bar high and
having expectations for others,
that we can give each other more hugs
and congratulate one another.

That everybody can have somebody in their lives
that lifts them up instead of puts them down.
That makes them feel like just as much as a goddess
as my boyfriend makes me feel.

I've always kept my jealousy
locked in a box within my heart,
and since the day we started dating
only I've held the key.

My jealousy innocently simmers
inside like a *** of water,
but explodes red-hot like
the lava inside a volcano
if put under pressure

I wish I could let you open up my little box
and let you see the real root of my jealousy.
Let you see that buried underneath my smile
lies a deep, etched frown.

But I know you wouldn't understand.
You see me as strong and as cast-iron hard
as the box encased around my heart.
You would break if you saw
your sturdy rock crumble.

So instead I'll shut my little box
and throw away the key,
in hopes that if I bury these feelings
deep enough inside of me
I'll forget they ever existed
in the first place.

I know this sounds stupid.
I know to you it's second nature,
but I'm gonna thank you anyways.
Thank you for being the
only boy in history,
whose ever kissed me,
who hasn't tried
to put a hand up my shirt.