He felt a pain in his chest
as if he was stabbed
and stolen from
but it was only
the smile of a girl
who had stolen his heart
and broken it to a million pieces

I am a doodler.

Today I sketch in Art,
doodle on homework,
and draw on myself.
(Even though I get in trouble for it)

Tomorrow I will create logos,
outline tattoos,
and draw on myself.
(without getting in trouble)

I am a doodle artist.

Shoot the kids,
frame your wife,
hang them all.

The color of my blood is the color of snow.
The color of my eyes are as intriguing as atoms to a chemist.

My soul is as dark as night.
My skin is as thin as paper.

People say I'll be alright.
People don't know me.

If I were over it,
My heart wouldn't hurt anymore.
If I were over it,
I wouldn't be scrolling through years and years worth of content
just so I could see my name on your timeline.

If i were over it,
my breath wouldn't get caught in my throat
just by seeing your name on snapchat,
twitter, or even instagram,
fearing that you're with someone who isn't me.

If I were over it,
I wouldn't still be writing about you,
picturing what our lives would be like
if instead of running away,
I actually stayed.
​