Eventually,
It will all fall into to place,
The bad days will melt away,
And the good will take front stage,
But till that day,
We'll get through this,
Tired and swamped,
Fighting through the mist,
We call teenage hood.

She lay faint in their memories,
She was only ever could of beens,
Never was she the front face,
In their friendship magazine.

She was the white space,
Had potential to burn vibrant,
But she fell short of their pace,
And away in to the empty background.

She needed to be guided,
But no-one grabbed her hand,
So arm out reached she sat,
In the barren landscape of lonely land.

I could write you a letter every day
Instead I filled every May with letters of the alphabet:
A time came for passing through road side inns and
Beaches where you stroked every grain of sand from the
Corners of my face I hid my smiles ensewn on your
Designs to play with my hair stained with sweat and
Every sweet word and edge of your books cutting through my
Faint heart for friends that needed fixing
Grunge rock, emo punk screaming through lungs
Halting for a beat on your eardrum
Inconsistent dates, intolerant of my sarcasm because you are
Jokes made on table tops, bingeing on laughter until I threw up,
Keeping score of words, broken promises and mistakes,
Looking at everything wrong with staying but
Maintaining the balance of a smile and ugly crying at night,
Nicotine in every breath I am consumed in
On top of you on a bench or a bedside table we were
Poetry half-baked excuses so I don't
Question everything we risked to stay, stay alive
Remembering long walks and feeling infinite and the
Same soulmate-seeking sentiment,
Temerity served with every glass of alcohol and
Understanding why you woke up just to fall out of love with
Vicious cycles you can't keep up with getting tired of me but
Who knew things transpired to make way for
Exes and hoes to keep up the act of all the temporary.
Your happiness is above mine but yesterday, remember
Zigzag lines and lies never to coincide
Daydreams and delusional memories
to be replaced with
watching me see who you really are for the first time
as you look through someone else's eyes and feed
her temporary smiles that fill the void
Making it out to a vision of me you can't replace
the taste, the touch, the haste to forget
Like counting backwards and shapeshifting.
Three words that will never mean anything.
Two anxiety attacks per week.
Once we were real and pure
but pitch black and we are back to
Zero.