There’s a feeling in my chest
It mostly makes no sense
I lie, wipe and weep
I cry out for a voice to hear
The cracking of the floor boards, located where I breathe
My heart no longer beats
It is found no more
Instead you find cobwebs of all the memories they left me
I couldn’t save one or two
So now I lost three, and all of them meant something to me
It’s just now, I tied their death to me
How does one learn to breathe when their soul no longer feels,
Everything is just numb,
When I’m high, my body sinks and I ask God if this is what it feels to slowly be buried 6ft deep
Do they feel the weight pressing into their ribs, do they feel lonely; no one to hold or kiss?
Do they blame me for not reaching in and pulling them out?
I’m sorry I’m crying when it’s been 7 yrs , or 8
I’m sorry I forgot the sound of his voice and smile, with a twitch when he smirks in peace
I’m sorry I forgot the safety I felt when he’d hold me and tell me everything would be alright
I’m sorry I lost a brother and forgot him that night
I’m sorry I let my friends waste away
They were 2 months apart
And they sold their souls to the drugs, instead
They had so much life ahead, but were troubled with the worlds biggest regrets
They loved me when I gave myself away to the devil and loved me back when I slammed hard, disheveled, out of place, forgotten
im sorry I couldn’t save them
I’m sorry I no longer call them
My heart no longer belongs to any part of this body
It’s slowly withering and all I do is beg God to take my wasteful soul in exchange for theirs or for a day with them, maybe a week or month
And I’m sorry I’m so selfish that I want them to stay
They were truly a blessing and we’re all nothing but a curse; we’re in a void in outer space, floating in search for something great or anything that helps us find the light again.
These breakdowns are slowly settling in, creating riptides in the center of my chest, no edges fit, and all I fear is that I remain broken, my friends
Unable to be fixed
Bound to never exist

Maybe some people aren’t destined to find love
no matter how many times you knock the door, the House remains abandoned and nothing ever fills your chest,
at some point, your ribs cave in and you suffocate on your own blood
A tragic death
Maybe no matter how many times you sell your body, hoping someone will make love to your remains, it is still never enough
Maybe the conversations filled with laughter and dreams, remain just that; empty echoes of a forever lost in space & time
Maybe no matter how many people wrap their arms around you, you’re still fragile, you’re still a feather floating along the wind hoping someone would turn you to something more;
Something meaningful.
Maybe no matter how many times you cross paths, you’ll always remain strangers, meeting through parallel universes and it’s always the wrong time or the wrong place or the wrong something but never the right anything
Maybe some people aren’t destined to find love
To be love
To be in love
To feel love
They’re destined to drown in love
To suffer in love
To love but not be loved
To die of love because no one was capable of holding such vast amounts of love
Maybe some people are lonely
Maybe it’s me.
It’s always been me.

Never, have I ever
Thought I’d be the one, to bring out the stress in a relationship, the mistress in distress.
Never, have i ever
Loved to the point of comfort.
Never, have I ever
Swam into the depths of words
Until I forgot all the ink that marked pages
Never, have I ever
Drowned.
Drowned in emptiness that doesn’t resemble dark holes and abandoned homes,
With creaking floorboards and moldy corners.
Never, have I ever
Felt a dent in the chambers of my heart.
I have, though
Always swayed to the emotions that fill my soul and ignite the fire that boils beneath my skin.
Never, have I ever
Thought that burning my skin with a lit cigarette could cause a stain within my memories, that I can’t seem to shake off.
Every time I close my eyes, his voice lingers,
It resonates within my bones, and plays symphonies of a time where my home was filled with light,
Instead of this eternal darkness that continues to pull me every night.

As the world deafened around me, and the weight within my belly settled, I looked his way and noticed his eyes slowly ******* me.  
He laid his head gently on my thighs and my hands found their way to his hair.
A river; my fingers swam to the shore.
We moved to the couch and my body adjusted next to his, pressing into each other, somehow becoming one.
His arms enveloped me, his lips pressed onto my shoulders,
He took a bite.
In that moment, a flame ignited and I wanted nothing more than for him to fule the fire he now sparked.
His hand reached for me, and I asked for more
He whispered into my ears and I shook my head,
He pulled me closer saying he loved my body,
And I wondered if it was the high or if he meant it
Our lips found each other and we kissed like our life depended on it.
I could taste bitterness and loneliness,
Darkness that could possibly have me wondering how much of my heart is worth my keep and how much is worth drowning in drugs that seem a lot like love and lust, mixed into a ****** concoction of confusion.
The weight of his body moved on top of me, and I wanted the layers of clothes to evaporate like rain, but they were there suffocating the images I once had of a previous lover.
We set into a rhythm and the world seemed to dissipate,
To fade into nothing, but twilight.
As he reached his high, his body settled back between my arms and his lips graced my forehead.
I didn’t want him to love me.
I didn’t want him to offer me the world.
I didn’t want him to save me from the loneliness that, at times, eats me whole.
I wanted to know that at some point, I was cared for, even when I was used for an advantage.

Tonight, I thought of all the words lost on me
Like my favorite necklaces misplaced; my hands reaching for my neck, unable to feel them.
Tonight, I missed my favorite person, who continues to rest among the clouds
Tonight, I realized that friendships end and goodbyes are inevitable
Tonight, I wrote. I wrote and wrote
I wrote so much
All I wanted to do was puke my insides out because nothing I wrote sounded like myself
Tonight, I wept because I forgot who I was

Often times it seems like I’ve connected the dots and became what everyone wanted me to be, keeping the child within me locked in a dark room, with no windows to allow the light through.
At times, it seems, I’ve diminished my wants and needs because it was all, ‘too much’
It felt safer to stitch my lips shut, because voicing anything sounded like a cry for help and I never wanted to depend on anyone who may one day leave me,
Who may one day abandon me.

Tonight, I’ve come to terms with It being so much harder trying to put together pieces I never knew were broken
At times, I feel so insignificant, a speck, compared to the universe and it hits me how regardless of all I feel, regardless of how minor my emotions may be to the wonder that is, Outer Space,
I matter.
I matter. I matter. I matter.
I ******* matter.
All the feelings that rush through me,
The rage, the absence, the happiness, the love & lust that pulses through my veins,
It all matters.
It all ******* matters and the world may have never been the same,
Without me.

I wrote a poem about the highest of highs and trippiest of lows.
I wrote a poem about inhaling the ashes of a burned lover and how all that was left, were the charred remains of a once lit flame.
I wrote a poem about your eyes and the wormhole I drowned in.
How the walls grew hands and pulled at my shirt, my arms,
How my skin is now marked by your fingertips,
Your hands, the only ones that fit accordingly to my body.
I wrote a poem about how heartbreak has stitched itself into unfamiliar places
I wrote a poem about how I am hard to Love,
About how my heart beats abnormally, taking a pause between beats- Lub...d-dub-
I wrote a poem about how my ex lovers have settled into my body,
Their words continue to resonate in my mind.
I wrote a poem about how I trip over my appearance and how the world is beautiful, but we're poisoned apples, rotting slowly with worms eating holes out of us.
I wrote a poem and no matter the words that poured out of me, I was still full of  emotions that continue to abandon me, wake me up in a sweat and in tears

Heartbreak and sadness meet me by the end of my bed.
They hold hands and smile at me, the scene before them, almost artistic.
I have become nothing, but a painting described as innocent and free of any emotion that doesn't resemble one of a woman.
I have become something filled with anger, resentment, and hostility.
I have become the end of the world, my fires burning my body, your fingerprints finally falling off with my melted skin.
I have become an art piece placed in a gallery, waiting to be critic-ed.
I have become a lost memory, forgotten like a message in a bottle, thrown away into the middle of the pacific ocean.

I met a boy in a man’s body.
I saw sadness in his eyes and experiences wrapped around him.
He marked his skin as a reminder that no matter where he wanders, he is still in search of home
At times, when his eyes met mine, I felt like he could see right through me.
Maybe, no matter how many times his eyes met mine, he couldn’t tell what my mind wanted and what my heart needed.

I met a boy in a man’s body.
I felt like maybe, just maybe, he could save me.

I met a boy in a man’s body.
He wanted affection and love wrapped with a pretty bow, but I was nothing but disheveled gift paper.

I met a boy in a man’s body.
He captured women in timeless frames and their beauty transcended, translated into eternal flawlessness.

I met a boy in a man’s body,
But he didn’t let me in.
He opened the door just wide enough for me to look in.
I am not aware of the ghosts that haunt him in his sleep, nor the ones that keep him up at night.
I’m hoping he introduces us one day.

I met a boy in a man’s body.
He had a kind face & strong arms,
Capable of holding me together when I break, when I won’t seem to mend.

I met a boy in a man’s body.
He met me, a girl, in a hollow one.
We shared a few worries & sorrows that made us into who we are today.
They parted ways, unaware if they were to ever meet again.

Dear Moon,
Writing to you has to be one of the most painful things I’ve talked myself into doing.
My days consist of thoughts revolving around everything I’ve wanted to yell out to you;
All the angst and pent up hurt that still shadows me to this day, some of which are:
I hate you
I hate that I trusted you
I hate that I opened up
I hate that I gave you more of me than I did anyone else
Love,
Was always something I saw as beauty with flowers and Spring, Summer day’s
But now all I seem to see is anger;
Cold, winter nights and old, creaked abandoned houses.
I had never wanted to rip my heart out, as much as I do right now,
Because even if all I feel is the emptiness, the remnants of your love still lingers,
And I still see traces of you in everything my mind conjures.
Your shirt still lays in my closet and it has taken all of my willpower not to rip it to shreds,
But it has also taken everything in me,
Not to put it on and cry myself to sleep.
The last time my eyes met yours,
I knew it would be the last.
A part of me believes that the universe speaks to me whenever someone is about to leave me,
And I think the accident was the reassurance I needed to let you go.
Our love started with such a passion that at some point we burned the world unaware of the scars that currently mark our skin.
No matter how many times I vowed to let you go, a part of me always ran back to you, tugged at your shirt and looked you in the eyes, hoping you’d take me back, broken and too fragile to care for myself.
No matter how many times I tried ignoring the thoughts that warned me to quit you, put my walls up, and shield myself, I still never listened
And here I am,
all i’m left with are a couple of love songs, but not enough love
All I’m left with, is a broken soul,
Only encapsulating numbness as if a guest at a hotel, occupying a vacant room.

What pains me most is,
You once looked at me as if I were an art piece adorning the walls of a gallery,
Yet now,
Your eyes barely wash over me, as if I have become nonexistent, irrelevant

It is time I take back the power I so humbly gave to you, by calling you the Moon to my night sky
You do not lighten up the darkest parts of me anymore, you create mazes where I fall farther into darker holes.
Thank you for all the broken words you showered me with
I have learned not to dedicate my words to people
No one deserves the pretty words I construct into sentences, paragraphs, or even poems.

To A love I thought was Always, but turned out to be within numbered days,

-Angel

If I grabbed you by the arms and yelled into your ear, about all the pain that swims in my veins, would you hold me close as I fall to the ground realizing I am not as strong as I think I am, or would you watch me dissolve until I become nothing, but air?
Would you count the scars that mark my body or would you help implicate them?
Would you wrap your gentle hands around my heart and stop the bleeding or would you suffocate it like you did my love?
Would you cry me a river or would you swim in my tears?
Would you sing along to every song we’ve ever loved or would you kiss every person your eyes laid on, hoping to forget what I tasted like?
Would you let me build up my walls, because I can’t bear to have you stab my chest or would you tear them down just to watch me grovel?
Would you or not, rather I bloom than diminish and decay, like a rose on a spring, sunny day?
Would you hold me, just for the night, because I can’t seem to let go of the memories that haunt me in your presence

A never ending well
You fall
And you fall and fall and fall,
Yet you never plummet

It’s sad and terrifying, yet reassuring,
All at the same time.
Some may attack this part of me, calling it an illness, and at times where my fear strikes and I begin to feel the fingers of everyone I love, detach, I see it as such - an illness - too.

Overthinking has, in some way, crippled my ability to just be,
To live in the moment.
Some nights, it is my only companion, tucking me into bed, playing with my hair, letting me know I’m not alone, never, not entirely.

Sometimes, when the world aims its’ horrendous acts of violence, like heartbreak and disappointment,
Overthinking wraps it’s arms around my stomach and disables me from thinking straight and in some ****** up way, it might be asking me to stop, turn back, and walk the furthest away from them as possible.
In some ****** up way, it’s helping me see things clearly
But I never listen.
I don’t think it works that way for me.
No matter how many warning signs, red flags appear in front of me,
Sometimes all I want to do is wither the storm and hope I come out of it alive.
Maybe in some ****** up way, I believe this would make me stronger, even though that has caused me to break into even smaller pieces than imaginable.

The steps I take away from you seem deeper than the shallow ones towards you.
I’ve almost lost my senses as I resided beside you, becoming one with the chair
Controlled and made to feel a certain type of way only to be neglected whenever my use was no longer needed
Disposable
I was always disposable
And what does that say of the way I love?
That it is not an ocean that hugs its shores, but one that chews and spits out remnants
I can’t seem to recall the memories of when I was anything, but broken
I have melded into the shards and at time’s, when I move, they stab and wound me from inside out.
My skin has been marked by red patches and in some artistic, poetic way, you may say that these patches are the marks of a warrior, but I say they’re marks of a fighter who longer has enough fight in her
If I decide to give up, would they all yell out in objection,
Or help me get there faster?

You weren’t supposed to leave me when I needed you the most
My heart bleeding onto the concrete floor, next to that bashed up car and my traumatized thoughts
You weren’t supposed to etch your name into my heart, but you did so anyway
All that’s left is a scar, the platelets unable to clot the pain away
Most nights, I’m stuck in one of my nightmares
They all start with me calling out your name and end with you walking out the door
You weren’t supposed to ask for my heart if you weren’t worthy of its’ keep
But ****, I guess we all ask for things that seem so far out of our reach
I’ve written so much of you
I’ve called the Moon after you,
You have almost become a figment of my imagination, your being almost unobtainable
I’ve built you up so perfectly, no flaw, no imperfection,
And that is the cost of a heart that loves unconditional(ly)
We dive into the ocean, swim deep into the blue, wide eyes at the beauty, no more breaths, we begin to heave,
Our lungs slowly suffocating,
The air, they no longer keep
We drown to save our art, make sure it survives
You were my muse, my everlasting glow
I saw galaxies in your eyes, even though I had multiple of universes in my own
It was simple really,
All I’ve ever wanted was for someone to hold me tight, kiss me when I’m doubtful, say a couple of words to make things right
Act on the pretty verses that laced that pink tongue,
Mean what you say, don’t parade around a handful of indirect lies
See, I have had my heart broken a couple of times.
I have given my being, without batting my eyes
It is time I invested in myself, in order not to falter on broken promises
I have treated carefully through the pieces remaining of my heart,
But I think it’s time I made amends with the parts of me that loved me enough,
That helped me stand up and pull myself out of my slump.
I am more than those who have claimed to ‘love’ me
I am a form of Love,
Maybe one, still in disguise

Dear Malak
Hi
This is a bit unsettling since the last time I saw you, was in the bathroom mirror; hair pulled up into a ponytail and you had a spark in your eye diminishing by the second.
I wanted to ask you what it felt like to lose; life, sense, sight.
I think you’ve lost a lot and yet you are still a wanderer unaware of the chaos that looms before you.
Explain to me the wounds that mark your skin and tell me about all the excuses you’ve placed for those who’ve abused you one way or another; may it be abusing it directly - strategically placing their knife through your spinal cord -  or taking you for granted since you oozed forgiveness until you walked away and thought the only way out, was through solitary.
You pushed away. You pushed away your worries and the blame, the hurt and ache, you pushed away the closest to you because it was easier to cave in than allow them to see the weakness that has made a home within your body, and that may not be a mistake but I begged you to knock on doors whenever you felt like losing yourself in a world or two or a universe and another.
I wanted you to bloom and not decay.
I wanted to to be and not
Explain to me how easy it is for the thoughts to create a beast that eats your insides and leaves your skin, a costume to be worn by the shadows that loom in you.
Tell me how your sadness sways with you
Tell me how you can’t find peace when peace surrounds you and how you latch on to the anger when it’s devoid of everything around you.
Help me understand the issues that pile up one after the other
I know it’s not easy explaining but I don’t mind if you wrote it in Morse code or painted it onto a blank canvas.
But talk to me.
Help me understand your wants and needs because it’s become harder voicing out your worries when all you hear is noise.
This has become as hard as yelling out for help as you hang off the edge of a cliff and I’m so afraid that at any moment you just might let go.
How are you?
I hope you’re doing fine.
I hope the thoughts ease up and your worries evaporate like rain
I hope the pain that grips your stomach ceases to exist because seeing you lose your appetite in anything that keeps you alive has caught my attention, and I don’t think happiness emerges from a place where all there is,
Is a lost girl wandering through an empty forest, and all she’s waiting for, is a monster ready to rip her to shreds.

Dear Mason,
I've given you my words and now, I'm left with nothing but another piece of my heart.
The only one remaining I presume.
I've etched your name in to me, drew you into every dream and struck you out of every nightmare.
The sky contains you again and the moon and stars now light my once dark night.
My hands have known comfort in yours and they haven't found home anywhere else.
My heart spoke different languages when it came to loving you,
But the moment we parted ways it became deaf, mute, blind.
It became nothing.
My emotions jumped off a cliff and we called it emotional suicide,
Where the only thing I wanted to feel was Time,
But all I felt was the loneliness.
It's as if I were sitting at a bus stop, waiting for your arrival but you never showed up; no matter how many days, weeks, months passed.
Your pretty words, like a tongue gracing a neck, seeped through my skin, and I wanted you to take all of me, right then and there.
Your eyes always found their way into the depths of my soul and I want to jump into the deepest dark whole because you are everything I want to possess.
See, I know I've hurt you.
I know I added a few more scars to your heart and it may beat differently because of it,
I know you might heave at times but I want you to know a love like yours,
A love like the one you've drugged me with, remains in my veins, blood, body.
My thoughts contain you.
Every pair of eyes I look into resemble yours,
And my words, I've lost them since I thought I lost you.
But as you extend your arm and your hands caress mine and our fingers tangle, my words call back to me.
Your love -
I've been dying for your love
Now,
I'm willing to live for it.
My words, are yours,
Whatever left of my heart is yours
It never was mine, anyway.

Yours,
Now, then, forever, always,
M.S

Sometimes the thoughts threaten to haunt parts of me that have seen the sun in all its glory
Sometimes the thoughts threaten to hang me
Sometimes the thoughts question the love I have for my body, and all I’m left with are a couple of hmm’s and Ahh’s that don’t put much of the broken, I feel, together.
Sometimes I want to hand my heart out to strangers,
Hoping they’d love me far better than any of you ever could
Sometimes the world scares me and it takes great courage for me not to hide behind closed doors
Sometimes I want to speak poetry that breaks hearts and fuels the ache
But I’m usually left with a couple of words like,
“I’m sorry I have nothing to write,
I gave you all the words that formed my body, and now I am nonexistent.”
Sometimes the thorns wrapped around my heart force blood out of my mouth and it takes me awhile to remind myself that I don’t have to drown in my own sorrows
Sometimes all I’m left with are a couple of papers that are filled with excuses of why I can’t reach the stars
Sometimes it hurts to try
Sometimes it becomes too much as if the world is weighing on me
Sometimes it’s hard to make out the words that lace people’s tongues because all I’m used to is bitter promises
Sometimes I reach my limit, and I’m standing at the edge of a cliff hoping that the dive crushes all the demons that continue to shadow me
Sometimes I remind myself that it’s all about the pains,
How we perceive them
Make something of them
Create with them
Most times the world’s a little dim but I have to see the light, because what’s there to live for, if not that?

I’m sorry
I’m sorry you weren’t courageous enough to fight the war against my thoughts
I’m sorry
I’m sorry my ship sunk faster than it could sail
It seems that my heart is flailing and the numbness has yet to reach my finger tips, but it’ll surely give in any second now
And I hate the way the stars aligned against us,
But what I hate more is how I thought you wanted every part of me only to realize you wanted the diamonds that came to being because of the overwhelming fire that continues to burn within me.
I’ve built walls to keep galactic beings like you out, because I knew the black sky would never look the same.
The moon was mine and now, it no longer is;
The moon hangs across my night sky, rotating in my solar system, existing within my galaxy, and fills my universe
The moon is no longer mine
And it hurts.
It’s like a needle pricked my skin and I’m watching the blood ooze out but I’m hoping my skin refuses to clot because then all I’ll be reminded of is the pain
And it’s always better to feel something rather than this void that eats me up for breakfast and leaves me drained for lunch until I’m starving for dinner.
I’m sorry
I’m sorry
I’m sorry I showed you parts of me you didn’t truly want to see
sorry these words are all I have as a form of honesty
The world continues to light match sticks and spark my house on fire
I’m unfortunate enough to realize that I’ll never own a home, most importantly not one within you.

Dear Nial (Numb),
Distance and I walked hand in hand and I lost her at the end of the street.
All the words filled the vacant cities that roamed my body but none of them were enough to keep her. None of them were enough to make it feel like home and none of them were enough to fight her demons.
I asked you to leave and lock the gates of Hell after you but you were unwilling to do so.
You let me know that you would continue to haunt my body, going from bar to bar, hoping that the liquor would satisfy my thirst.
The numbness began to spread and I couldn’t do anything but take a step back and watch.
I wanted to carve you out of her.
I wanted to stop you from creating graveyards within her chest but she wouldn’t allow me close enough to help her,
And so I watched, from a distance,
Hoping my words traveled to her through sound bites.
Nial,
I don’t think she knows it,
But she owns my words.
She owns them and she owns the stars and no matter how many times I’ve called onto the galaxies so they’d shine for her,
She always missed them, and it’s all because of you,
Nial.
A constant reminder,
You hold her hostage,
In the mental prison of thoughts and emptiness.
Let me hold her hands,
Please let me walk with her.
Let us watch the sunset after a long day of pouring rain, that sinks and drowns the brightest of flowers until they’re one with the soil.
Let her welcome me with open arms and lungs willing to breathe and I’ll be the air that inflates her with life.
She’s so much on her own.
She’s so ******* much that I’m afraid the world is still not ready for the wonder that is She.
She’s so much and yet I’d like to be standing next to her staring at all that she is in awe at how lucky I am to call her mine.

I painted my wrists black and blue hoping the colors indicated the underlying emotions locked up in 4 chambers spewing blood and oxygen throughout my body  
The dotted lines told a story of so much loss, you wouldn’t believe it unless you were there.
Sometimes the blade found its way, creating an opening with rich, wine-like blood oozing from a scratch and sometimes I had a hard time holding back but I always did because I never want to exist in a world that does not contain you.
Sometimes my insides burn up and I don’t know how to extinguish the flames that eat me alive, leaving nothing but char.
Sometimes the flowers growing around my lungs threaten to suffocate me and I can’t help but continue to water them because I don’t want anything else to wither and decay.
Sometimes your words drip like honey and I allow my tongue to lick every letter because I am head over heels for the sweetness that is you.
Sometimes my legs walk me to the finish line but my thoughts take me back to the starting point because nothing ever makes sense and there are multiple of options for why something might be the way it is, and all I want is for you to hold me.
Sometimes I’m feeling blue and black, while other times I’m the rest of the colors imbedded in a rainbow. I blow in full force blurring the lines between fantasy and reality, making you wish that I remain a sustainable part of your life.
I painted my wrists black and blue and reminded myself that my worst nightmares are nothing but that; nightmares.
I am the stars and I’m a field of roses swaying with the wind and I might flow against your sea but I’m asking you to caress my petals and be cautious of my thorns; as sharp and pure as I look, poison still seeps beneath my smooth, marked skin, and I am not aware of the damages my broken heart might ever create.

How do you tell a person who is so used to being left, that they are blessed with the ability to love in full capacity?
How do I tell myself that I am so much more than my thoughts?
You see, my mind is a waiting room. And it starts out as follows,
I am seated against a wall watching the door as it opens, one person at a time entering and taking a seat. Slowly the room begins to crowd and they’re all talking over each other and it’s so hard trying to figure out who is saying what and for what reason because it quickly shifts into a fight and the noise just becomes deafening and I want it to end. I want it to end so badly but I’m a coward and I can’t seem to stop the thoughts from tearing me apart. I’m a paper airplane and the pouring rain drowns me. And no one can tell how this sadness is tearing me apart. No one can see how I’m in constant pain, no one knows that I’m unable to fall asleep but to the sound of her voice and I’m drowning and I don’t think anyone’s capable of savings me.
Just leave.
I get it.
Don’t explain.
I’ll save myself if I don’t take it first.

Dear Anxiety,
Thank you for the sleepless nights
Tired eyes
Thank you for the unbearable beats that **** near stopped my heart
Thank you for the faucet of tears that continues to pour
Thank you for the pang of pain that keeps punching against my chest whenever someone mentions anything close to abandoning me
Thank you for being my worst nightmare, for stealing the light out of my eyes
Thank you for reminding me that I cannot enjoy a single moment with those I love because of the constant nag of every single thing that could go wrong
Thank you for reminding me that I am at a constant loss for words

Dear Anxiety,
Thank you for letting me know that you will always be hiding underneath my skin, ready to perk up in response whenever anything peaks my interest.

Dear Anxiety,
Thank you so much for every single whisper that traveled through me on the quietest of nights
Thank you for reminding me I am alone
Thank you.
Thank you.
Thank you.

Dear Anxiety,
I am a little wanderer searching for myself within the maze you created to trap my lost soul.

I’ll find her someday.
I’ll find myself
And you won’t be so lucky when I do,
Because you’ll burn,
And all I’ll do, is watch you turn to ashes.

Thank you, for making me,
Me
I no longer need you

I never did.

Never Yours,
Malak

I colored her into a canvas and called it my greatest art piece,
letting them know that only the hands of a(n) artist is capable of making something that has always been beautiful,
Into beauty that is now defined.
The brush strokes speak of heartbreak and anger,
Of love and pleasure,
They mimic the energy vibrating throughout her body and begin to imprint a different story within those who stand before her and ponder.

One, thinks that her movements are portrayed as tough, yet the world is slowly weighing down on her, crushing every sense of hope
The other, believes that she sways to the beats of Love. She stares, questioningly, at how the canvas embodied Love.
Little did she know,
The contents of the art piece is in fact,
Love.
A man and a woman stand before my significant piece,
Their hands interlocking, eyes wide open, mesmerized
This is what the art work stands for —
Lips interlocking, eyes gleaming, hungry minds, desperate hands, drum-like hearts.
A family walks by, the kids unaware of the beauty surrounding them.
The mother stands in the center and clasps her hands. Her thoughts buzz.
This is how she feels.
These swirls of color,
Mixing and staining the white, is a representation of all that is within her —
A mess that continues to haunt her.
Is this what she wanted?
But of course, she is madly in love,
Is it with her husband?
The father stares at his wife in awe.
Regardless of all the litter in the world, she remains the only sensible thing of beauty.
As more people begin to file in,
A sense of accomplishment washes over me.
The painting connected to so many people, that they’re most probably going to think of it over the next couple of days, weeks, maybe even months or years.

I take the painting down.
I storm out of the gallery.

I project the painting onto a larger canvas, a larger wall.
The people realize that there are seatings, in which they each begin to take one.
I yell out, ‘what do you see?’ ‘What does she speak to you?’ ‘What are you filled with?’ ‘What thoughts creep out of the shadows and talk to you, when you look at her?’
The audience stares at me with disbelief, as if I have become a madman, losing my sanity.
But I’ve already lost it to her.
‘Comfort’, one yells.
‘Loneliness’, follows.
‘Patience’ ‘intelligence’ ‘abandonment’ ‘happiness’ ‘carefree’ ‘anger’ ‘pain’ ‘suffering’

There are no words to describe the person I love,
But she embodies everything I see.
I tried containing her within a painting,
But she lived in every person that was granted a look by her.
And I am,
Forever,
Grateful
That I get to see beauty, in everything she is and everything she does.

It’s 6 am and it still feels like a dream.
You stir next to me and I have to hold myself back for I’m pulling you closer and devouring every inch of you. Sometimes God takes one thing and offers you a whole lot more, and thankfully, I got that with you.
I turn to my side and gaze at your still body; chest rising and falling; peacefulness in human form.
My fingertips caress your skin and my lips trace their way to your neck, chest... you stir a bit more and I hold myself back. Your eyes open up and stare in surprise. You close your eyes and I count to ten. We’re both so afraid of waking up to different realities and we don’t want to pretend, so we take a few seconds to make sure this is real, all of it, you and me, the bed, the sheets.
1,2,3
It’s not a dream
4,5,6
You’re real
7,8,9
I’m lost in your eyes
10
Whatever self control I was tying to gain disappears and we’re tangled in the sheets, so afraid the spell breaks, we practically lose sight, of all that was once real, and for all that has yet to come.

You go back to sleep and I write this piece, hoping that when one day, very far from now, we part ways, I can read these and cherish the way, you made me feel when all I wanted was to evaporate.

Maybe I’m cracked
But not broken
My edges may be sharp
But I try to warn them not to get too close
Sometimes I stutter and mutter all the things I have to say
They’re a pile of jumbled words and I find it hard to arrange them in any order that You would benefit from
Sometimes I fall
I shatter
And I don’t make any sound
But my heart calls out for you and in the darkness
I wish upon stars
That you would hold me as i let go of everything I keep locked inside of me
Sometimes it’s hard to make sense of all the nonsense
Sometimes pieces of me are lost within the chaos and I look for myself in people
But I’m missing
And the world is haunting me, triggering me, aiming arrows at me,
Waiting to pin me down into the depths of the earth
Sometimes I’m nothing
Sometimes the void within me grows and it promises that someday it’ll swallow me whole and I beg it
Each and every night
To do so
Sometimes I wander through empty houses thinking they’re a home I belong to
Sometimes the hurt begs to love me
And I let it
I let it kiss my scars
I let it hold me as I weep my losses
I let it comfort me because no one has ever made me feel safe enough to lose myself in
I let it remind me that it’s okay to let go every once in a while
It’s okay not to be okay
It’s okay to lose control
To cry
To fall
To break
To hate and love
It’s okay to just be

Dear Brother,
I’m sorry.
I’m sorry I forgot to write you letters, to call out your name,
I’m sorry I forgot to whisper my worries to you and remind you that you’re still here,
I’m sorry I forgot what you sound like,
I’m sorry I forgot.
There’s this gaping hole in my chest and I’m still trying to figure out how to fill it with something other than the I hate I have for the world.
I’m sorry.
I realize that nothing I say can fix the brokenness, but I’m glad you’re up high.
You’re soaring through the sky, currently watching me cry,
And I wonder what it feels like to not have a care in the world.
I bet it’s relaxing.
You always had such anger burning through you and I’m sorry that I couldn’t understand it better but I’m trying to,
I swear I am.
The other day, I saw Osama in your eyes and I swear I nearly called out your name thinking you hid inside his mind.
I think the world is punishing me for trying to avoid thinking about your death.
It hurts.
It all hurts so much.
The tears and heartbreak of,
Not being able to hear your voice or go up to you and ask you to fix my mistakes or guide me, at least.
It hurts not seeing you often or seeing you at all,
It hurts seeing everyone ache silently over you.
I wanted to save you but I could barely save myself and I lost you.
The accident caused a riptide within me and now everything has shifted so drastically that non of my pieces fit back together again.
I’m sorry, Brother,
For being the way I am...
All I ever wanted was to make you proud,
All I ever wanted was for death to exchange you with me;
To grant you one more chance at life, while taking mine away.
I’m sorry it didn’t work
I’m sorry

Dear death,
I am a waste.
I am a waste of space, of air, of life.
I am a waste.
I am wasting away in this darkness of memories that I can’t seem to let go.
I am a waste.
How do I rid myself of pain that strings along the chords of my heart,
Playing it as if an instrument.
How do people make sense of the waste?
How do they learn to appreciate how their mind was meddled with and how their heart gave and gave only to be unappreciated?
I am a waste,
And I still cannot figure out how to make something out of nothing
I am still figuring out who I want to be and where I want to go and all I can seem to think of is you.
Death,
What do you do to people who are wasting away?
Do you **** the breath out of their lungs leaving them to slowly decay and turn to dust?
Or do you hug them tight and tell them everything will be okay even though all you’ll leave behind is a mess?
Death,
I can’t put my pieces back together again.
Sometimes it’s hard getting out of bed and I call you,
Yet you never pick up.
Sometimes I long to jump off of bridges and land into the arms of comfort...yet I never have the courage
Because giving myself to you or to life means commitment and I’ve never known anyone to be committed to me.
Sometimes the waste pulls me in and I drown in a sea of my mistakes; the ones people constantly remind me of, and it seems easier to let the water fill my lungs and sink than fight against the tides.

I am a waste,
Yet I’m still figuring out how to be more.
How to evolve and progress and become
To simply become something more
To want more
To experience and live more
To have said a waste but I certainly am not.
I have been put on this earth for a purpose, and I’m on an adventure of figuring out what my reason is.

Things I want to come home to after a long day at work:

Arms that hold and remind me that exhaustion is only temporary

Soul food, to stop the starvation that eats at my insides and reminds me I am too skinny to miss a meal

A comfortable bed that envelopes and introduces me to a world of dreams, where anything is possible,
Including leaving all that I've ever known and becoming someone entirely different

A good book that helps me escape reality with characters that feel more like family, than my actual real ones

Coffee. (Enough said)

A view that speaks to me about how the world is a beautiful place if only we stop and appreciate it

Myself, in the comfort of my own privacy. Free to let loose all the crazy that has been shoved down due to the fear of being judged

Since I had to lock her at home, away from the world, making sure no one saw my heart or any sign of emotion for fear that they'd take advantage of the sensitivity that is, Myself.
I'd like to come home to myself and let her know that it'll all be okay

Most of my thoughts at night drift from:
I am so much more than the entire universe combined
I am the Universe, the stars within the galaxies
I am the solar system, as a whole
I am the planets lost within the empty void,
Hoping to avoid a collision, yet still wishing for it
To create a nebula.
I am nothing but the air you breathe,
Needing both oxygen to give you life,
And carbon to **** the life out of your heaving lungs.
I am the moon and the sun.
I shine light on your darkest days and I make sure to trap you in the darkest of worlds as I dim your entire existence.
I am the blue sky and dark, black one
I am the plants that sway left and right,
Bringing color onto your blank canvas.
I am the butterfly, that was once a caterpillar:
I was once a questionable being but I bloomed into this thing of beauty that has everyone gaping.
I am the dream you have late at night but also,
The nightmare that startles you from your sleep

But the thoughts begin to consume me and I believe that I,
I am nothing
I am a waste of space  
And it's a struggle to try and figure out how that could be when in some sort of way,
The world needs me for stablility.

Dear Self,
The steps I take towards finding out who you are,
Are a little shakey.
I cannot figure out what it is that is dragging me to the depths of hell that I call,
My thoughts.
Sometimes in the middle of the night, I question when your soul would evacuate its home and soar through the sky.
Self, you're so fragile, it tears me apart looking at you.
Self, how can I save you?
How is it that you're so numb to almost everything?
How am I supposed to feel when you're so caught up in your own world to notice the one beneath your feet?
Self, I am losing you and I can't figure out how to bring you back.
Maybe this is how I become my real self;
The unforgiving,
Doesn't give a flying ****,
Resting ***** face,
Self.
I think I'd like that,
But then again,
I think I'd rather stay true to who I really am,
Than become a stereotypical woman that basis her life on the hate she perserved.

Dear Nial,
Your claws sank into my sink and for a minute,
I experienced pain in the form of sharp needles piercing my insides,
And then,
Blank.

I felt nothing.
The world was burning to the ground and I stood there watching.
I couldn't move my feet, regardless of the weightlessness.
For the first time in a long time, my heart didn't trip over itself and make a run for the nearest exit.
It just stood there, pounding,
Waiting for me to make a move.
And I didn't.
I allowed the world to go by, to poor gasoline all over itself,
And set the fires into flames.
I could care less whether they reached out and turned me to ashes or if I was the only one to make it out alive.
I just didn't care.
I wanted to separate myself from the world because,
The world did everything it possibly could to drown you and I wasn't willing to die like that.
I wanted to move yet everyone and everything kept placing me back into a pit of suffocation and anguish.
I wanted out,
And if it was with me standing still watching as death claimed the souls of everyone around me,
Then so be it.
At least,
All I'll feel is nothing,
Empty,
Hollow,
Void.


Yours truly,
Angel

Dear Luke,
You have become lukewarm, almost unresponsive.
I would ask you to leave but I'm afraid you're no longer wanted, elsewhere.
Your presence has become indifferent.
You have caused a feeling of emptiness that dances within me on lonely nights.
You have caused a shift between wanting the world and wanting nothing to do with it.  
You have caused riptides in the sea found inside of me,
I am afraid I'll soon flood and later,
I will be void,
No matter how many people approach me with You filling their insides, I'll kindly, gently, passionately push them away and ask them to never come back again.
I ask you to rip whatever voice that screams and calls for you in the middle of the night.
I am so sick of wanting some form of you.
I'd like to imagine that someday my significant other and I,
Would have you brimming within us and reminding us of the good that is still found on earth, yet for now,
I want to forget you.
I want to be so numb that even your flames burning my skin,
Cannot cause me to blink in fear, disgust, and pain.
Please leave.
Leave and don't come back because I am so tired of mending wounds that are far too big for any of the bandaids I possess.

Hate,
Angel.

To the stars that listen and hold me close when I am on the brink of losing my sanity;
When the world stands before me,
Holding a gun towards my temple
To the stars that listen and keep me company on days where loneliness and I have shared a bed and the darkness inside of me grows, consuming all the color I once saw
To the stars that twinkle in response, as the tears stream my cheeks, reminding me that beauty is never something you can keep
To the stars that have made better friends  than people,
Thank you for holding me
Thank you for loving me
Thank you for pressing love into me,
When I felt hate gripping and burning at the insides of my chest
Thank you for reminding me who I really am
Thank you for being distant and understanding
But also,
Thank you for always being there for me when it felt like nobody really was

Love,
Angel

Dear The One,
I haven't received a text from you in a while now.
How've you been?
I've been good.
Your memories don't knock on my door often.
They just breeze in from time to time.
My heart doesn't break at the call of your name.
I'm fine,
This time I mean it.
But,
It always seems like there are words lost in between us,
Waiting to be unleashed,
To be written into letters.
See, there's always that voice within me begging to ask how you're doing,
And it's not out of loneliness,
Even though loneliness knocks at my doors every night, demanding to keep me company.
Regardless of the void you've previously left,
I still care for you.
Love,
Isn't something easy to dispose of.
I still carry so much of it within the cracks of my chest,
I just stopped showcasing it to every passerby, asking if they know how to mend me.
I don't know what the aim of this letter is but,
I know it's to remind you that I am still present.
I'm still here, wandering through lonely streets, staring at bright stars and night skies, wondering when and where I'm going to gain some sense of stability and form of happiness.
I just hope you received that when you walked all over my broken pieces, unaware that it was going to take too long to put all you've wrecked together again.

Write back to me,
Even if it's just a few words about how life makes sense,
Without my presence.

Yours truly,
Angel

Have you ever been forced into a situation where all you feel is,
a rope slowly latching onto your throat and strangling you,
Allowing all the air to escape your lungs?
Have you ever wanted to run away?
Not figuratively speaking,
Literally.
Running away and leaving everything you've ever known.
Leaving all the comfort you've placed yourself in;
A box filled with flowers that fill the air with jasmine and lilac.
Running away from every person that has ever caused you pain,
That has ever caused a scar on your body or mind
Have you ever wanted life to steal your breath away and leave you for dead?
Because I have.
I've never wanted anything more than to just leave.
I want to leave my mind and my body,
I want to escape all that I know because everything feels ten times harder and I feel a hundred times weaker.
The bones in my body can't hold me up straight, the joints won't handle the effort.
I am so done allowing hope to pull me from the black hole that feeds off me.
I am done.  
Life can **** the blood out of me.
I quit.

I've written far too many endings to have any decent beginnings.
The flowers I've planted died,
The petals falling onto the soil, slowly decaying.
Why is it that life resembles death,
Whenever my fingers skim the edges?
There's this need to create and contain,
To possess and obsess,
To protect,
And yet still,
The hurt remains, gaping
Eating me alive.
Biting and nibbling at those that I love.
Life, never expects you to live with a smile plastered onto your face.
It never guarantees you an easy access.
There are no manuals on, 'how to live a good life',
Just a sign posted at the start line saying,
Try.
You try to live a good life,
Through the heartaches,
Through the happiness.
You try and try, no matter how many times you fall onto your knees, resulting in bruises or broken bones,
You stand up and make way for the experiences to shift and transform you into who you're meant to be.
No matter how many endings I've written,
The beginnings seem far worse,
Because maybe,
Just maybe,
It's the first step into leading and living a good life,
And I so desperately,
Do NOT want to butcher that,
Leaving reminants of blood smothered on the floor I call,
My
Life

Dear Chaos,
Hi.
I don't know how to start this because I'm sure this is going downhill from here,
But how are you?
I'm...coping.
There's this whirlwind going inside of my mind and All my insides are compelled on coming up,
Any minute now.
I'd ask if you'd lend me a hand but I know that whatever you touch, you're pledged to burn.
Sometimes I feel like that;
Anything my fingers come across,
The contents become ash
A figment of my imagination,
No longer present.
How is it that you're so used to the damage you create?
No matter how many times I ruin something,
This ache within me grows.
There's a hole in the center of my chest.
I think the void will swell and someday,
I'll disappear.
Chaos,
Why does it always seem like loneliness hangs onto me?
This weight that presses into my lungs makes it hard to breathe.
I lie there in my half filled bath tub and think about how it would be to drift through space.
There's this immense silence that I wish my mind would contain but I'm guessing it's used to the endless talks and gibbering of nonesense.
Chaos,
There's so much hurt...
Why can't you leave me alone?
Why can't something else clutch onto me and love me
Why does it have to be you?
Am I supposed to appreciate that I get loved by you, even though I slowly lose myself in this maze you've created inside my head?
Chaos...write me back.
Help me understand.
Yours truly,
Angel.

Draw me into a poem and paint in all the dents the world has left within me.
Feeling your hands on my skin, caressing the inside of my thighs, moving up
Has me questioning how the roughness of the world hasn't corrupted such soft hands
Your eyes linger on my chest, and it feels like your gaze burns through me, seeing a glimpse of all the ache I feel
You run your hands through my hair, and your expression becomes much softer, as if holding a precious gem and being so afraid of scratching or dropping it  
You whisper in my ear how you want to protect me at all cost and how the world does not deserve me
How I'm so pure and unscathed by life's many hardships
You promise to wrap your arms around me every night,
When we're lying on our crisp, white bed sheets
Reminding me how much the world is lucky to have an angel walk among them
Yet, I can't help but feel like I put up a front of being something I'm not.
I am nothing
My heart is stained black.
My thoughts are usually clouded
If i could describe them as a season, it would be fall,
Because they're always causing me to breakdown Into pieces
I am soiled with pure hate.
The rage fills me and all the love dissolves
If the world hasn't worked you into roughness, maybe my soul will
I think it would be better for you to leave.
But maybe you see the potential of what I can become,
Gentle, soft
Adoring
Something so much more, than I already am
My eyes follow yours and we lose ourselves in the moment, putting aside all of our do's and don't's,
Forgetting that love never plays fair,
And soon, one of us is bound to get hurt.

I wish I could save you
And not with words
See, I know that Darkness, like quicksand, swallows you whole. The minute you step into it, you fight against it and slowly but surely,
You start sinking into the overwhelming pit.
I wish I could save you
Yet you have to fight your own battles,
And I'm guessing this is why it's so hard to stand by and watch you.
Life has me ******* into a chair and I'm watching as it tortures you by throwing everything Evil that the world Embodies.
Yet I can't save you.
Not now.

I wish my words could save you.
I wish caring saved
I wish love saved
I wish my hands could save
You're so close yet, so far
But the darkness will surely consume you,
And there's nothing that I can do but Hope that the world doesn't corrupt another pure soul tinted with some darkness.
Light and Dark walk hand in hand.
I wish I could save you, but
My voice has no power compared to the void that grows within you.
I'll wait until the world's done meddling with you, like it did with me,
And after, I'll make sure to hold you as you curse the darkness out,
Letting it know that it's never welcomed back.

I'm floating and I'm free
In my attic between the stars
Watching the universe,
The mesmerising universe,
Moving slowly, and alone
Like me.

I am alone, hope has left me
He stepped on the flame that kept me warm
After he'd thought my love was light
Light to his darkness

Why am I alone ?

Maybe I gave too much
Maybe he wanted more
Maybe I loved too hard
Maybe he never knew enough

Now I wonder

If love calls after him
If he realizes it's mine
If its my name that moves him
If the guilt washes over his peace

Is it love I feel for him,
Or the need to be held at night ?
Was it love he felt for me,
Or a charm seeing me lit so bright ?

But I am not him
It's why I am a lonely one
My heart the lavish ocean
My soul the opulent sky

So, floating and free
And I've given you a key
To my attic between the stars
Come watch the Universe,
The mesmerising universe,
As it moves slowly, but not alone
It's got us now

A bright blue sky washes over me and I forget,
Whatever pain I felt is only temporary.
It clings onto me for most of my night and remembers to punish me for everything I ever did right, for the wrong people.
My heart beats, races and I think finally, this is the day I leave earth and soar through the stars.
Maybe he could wish on me and realize I'm nothing, but dead.
Waking up in a tangled mess of hands and bed sheets, I'm reminded that my heart still feels alone and that no one can hold me as I break, piece by piece.
Self love is beautiful, but why does my want for someone to share it with, have to be so difficult?
Sometimes my love feels more like a burden than a blessing.
I have so much that my heart may burst out of its ***** and leave my body limp and blue.
A bright blue sky washed over me and I can't help but feel like the dark night has resided in me.
It has made a home within me and it refuses to leave because finally, It has something to cling on to that resembles comfort.
My chest is heavy and the bright blue sky dissolves into my worst nightmares.
I no longer feel the darkness, just blue.
This sadness drags me onto my feet, pretends to be me, and continues to address the darkness within me, as if a long-term partner.
Happiness is no longer festering within me.
I feel so much blue that my eyes beg for recognition.
No longer a soul projecting happiness, just one that pretends, hoping that someday, she gets what she deserves.

Dear Self,
It's a lot lonelier at night.
It's a nightmare ready to unfold and I'm gripping my bed sheets hoping I don't wake up in yet another cold sweat.
The void in my chest seems to grow as I look for something that makes sense.
The words used to hold me as I wept and now,
They stand at arms length and allow me to hold myself.
They watch as the tears fall across my cheeks and they question how much sadness can a person hold.
How much sadness until all you feel is nothing, but hollowness.
Hollowness that resembles a field of grass burned to ash.