A feeling of sadness lingers in my chest,
like the ghost that haunts me late at night.
Each night I become less and less like a person, and more like the ghost that visits me.
And sadly I cannot stop what has already been started.
And soon,
I will haunt you too.

-o.b.

I thought I knew you,
I really did.
But in the end I realized
I don't even know myself anymore.
I'm lost in the twist and turns
of the back of my mind
and I won't be out anytime soon.
I guess that leaves me
with 3 words.

Farewell
My
Friend.

-o.b.

Something about the way she spoke was beautiful.
Every idea that flowed from her soft lips left me feeling complete and in a way- loved.
There was something about her that seemed different-different than the rest of them, and no I didn't think she was odd.
I thought she was gorgeous and I craved to tell her this every day because I knew that sadly, she didn't see herself that way.

When I feel sad, I hide my hands in my sweater.
When I feel alone, I hide myself in my blankets.
When I feel hurt, I hide myself in the warm water of my shower.
When I feel nervous, I hide my face behind my hands.
and when I feel mad, I hide my screams in my pillows.
-o.b

I often fear the idea of being forgotten,
being pushed onto the sidelines, out of sight and out of mind.
I fear that no one will say my name as if it were a song that echoes through my very soul.
And they will not tell the story about how I got the scar on my cheek or the time I nearly drowned in the pool, because I will no longer matter.
I will no longer matter one day- and that scares me.
-o.b

Last night, I saw you walking by yourself and I couldn't help but notice how lonely you looked.
I screamed out your name, but the wind was howling and you couldn't hear me.
And I tried my best to catch up with you, but God cursed me with short legs and I couldn't reach you in time.
And now you're alone again,
and so am I.
-o.b.

I question
my exisitence
on a daily basis,
yet I still don't
know my
purpose for
walking such a
hateful planet.
-o.b.

Please remind me
that I am more than
a speck of dust
on your book shelf.
Please remind me
that I am one of those
hundreds of books
that line your shelf.
And please tell me
that I happen to
be your favorite.
-o.b.

My short legs can only
carry me so far,
but everytime they
bring me back to you.
You're like my favorite sweater,
you keep me warm,
you let me hide,
you keep me safe.
You're my home.
-o.b.

The human body is a form of art
that only the open minded can understand.
Each one is unique and different in it's own way, and **** I love that.
But yours, oh god yours is so much more than art.
It is beauty found in simple things like the cracks that line the wall of my room.
~o.b~