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I can't breathe anymore
but its not from lack of trying
I pretend people are inanimate
I always find I'm lying

I, I, I
me, me, me
******* I'm so secular and vain
I slip and sink in the sink as I wash my hands
It's not very deep but I can get lost in a familiar land
so drowning doesn't seem that out of place

why I think the way I think really ***** with my head
and I swear I don't mess with it so why does it sleep in my bed
It's **** and screams but I have never seen its face

so maybe you were right or made it happen by hoping
I swear it wasn't true but reality becomes real after it's spoken
and now I'm left fleeing and bleeding and losing my grace
If you would have never said anything I would never have thought anything.
allow me to bring attention
to what I forgot to mention
I have a predisposition
to build fences when there's tension

and I don't mean to sound
like I'm trying to bring you down
but when you come around
I can't make myself stay on the ground

and this may be a little weird
but I have this irrational fear
of attempting to steer clear
of emotion whenever you are near

so judge me if you have to
I promise I won't be mad at you
we all have to do
what's best when we find our own truth
I'm not angry. I'm hurt and upset. I wish we were as good at letting go as we are at saying goodbye.
Open the door
Let in a new old friend
let's explore the concaves and octaves
that comes with thought and with actions
with words and with fractions
of emotions so eloquent
we get lost and forget
to remember we no longer know each other
It doesn't always take much to get attached but the falling off can happen just as quickly.
I don't write when I'm sad
but when I write I'm sad
and what's right feels bad
and what's left is a tad too sad
to feel happy or glad
so my words taste sad
at the end of the day

and maybe I've changed
my thoughts becoming strange
in a storm of sufferable pain
but I still feel that same
I don't know whats changed
but I know something has rearranged
how and what I  see

so let's attempt to dream
with our eyes open to see
what we already faithfully believe to be
this amazing opportunity
to live free in a sea
of cordial uncertainty
but isn't that what makes us feel alive
I like challenging traditional structure but using traditional patterns within poetry. A message is a message whether written in a sticky note or delivered in an envelope.
Roses have thorns and violets cause violence
In the midst of a storm, everything is silent

I can reassure you that I cannot forget
But I'm not sure if it's out of love or regret

Maybe down the road, I will finally feel free
Or after time passes it will be the death of me.
I'm not broken I'm bruised
maybe a whole lot confused
and I wish I wasn't but I can't really help that now
you chose to take  a step and we are past that now

I still can't admit that I hide
in a shrinking part of my mind
where I love the old you and forget I never knew you
I swear it's not fair to me that I can't talk to the new you

and I wish you hadn't become
this person so distant so numb
and yet as I read through old letters I catch a glimpse
of the person I loved so long ago and all the harsh hints

I'm not allowed to love you
there's nothing I can really do
I can't blame you for your heart but as mine falls apart
I wish you were here to show you my pain evolved into art
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