Why can't my heart
turn my insecurities into
words and phrases you'll like and relate to
so you'll give them a heart or a share and temporarily
give me a fickle reward because I'm a pointless human being
and day in day out
wish I could put my suicide into words
a literary suicide for every time
I hate my life and
wish I could go back
to being innocent before
I broke anyone
before I realized I'll have to grow up or die
before I became the
weak one
incapable of even
martyrdom.

there are stars you
haven't seen
and loves you haven't loved
there's light you haven't felt
and sunrises yet to dawn
there are dreams
you haven't dreamt
and days you haven't lived
and nights you won't forget
and flowers yet to grow
and there is more to you
that you have yet to
know.

Why does every emotion live across the street from me?
I stare every day
over my morning coffee in this blank apartment
trying to stay awake,
alive.
And the apartment across the street has a window,
an open window,
and I spy inside and glimpse the colors.

I remember having those here living with me.
How though
can I trust memories of feelings I've forever lost to the next building?
Can I?
I feel their echoes.
But when I go downstairs the pancakes will be flavorless and
blandly white with gray thick
nothing syrup
drizzled all across them. I'll have to eat
to stay alive
but don't think I like it one bit.

the girl was a mess
of sadness and hope and lingering thoughts
that ran through her veins, and poisoned her mind
until she found herself delirious,
looking for nothing and no one in particular

the boy was fallacious
clinically depressed
finding comfort in the things made by the hands of a middle class man
but he believed himself to be on the path
towards recovery

the boy found the girl by accident
and he wanted to love her so
but he did not,
he did not

and the girl agreed by accident
and she wanted to love him more
but she did not,
she could not

and in the process of attempting to build each other up
they tore each other down
and in the end,
all that lasted
were shreds of broken souls
and memories that were supposed to mean something