Tongue on tongue,
Swallowing love.
I hate kisses,
I just want hugs.

Alzheimers:
Noun
A progressive mental deterioration that can occur in middle or old age, due to generalized degeneration of the brain.

I remember, but I'm reluctant to use that word,
Because you are incapable of defining a memory.
You now know a memory as a fictional reality,
From which you formulate your world.

To me, It's as vivid as what's right before me.
The past, that is.
The only contrast?
I'm able to distinguish it from now.

I reminisce on the moments,
The ones where you'd call me your "special little girl,"
The ones where you'd calm the discord arising in the room.
The ones where you could recall my name,
The ones where you could identify my countenance.

I miss your smile,
The one illuminated by stories of the past.
I miss your stories,
Those of war,
Those of love,
Your memories,
They're gone.

Now, everything has changed,
You still respire,
But for no purpose anymore.
The air you inhale does not keep you alive,
It keeps you existing.

I still see you,
Materially, you're there,
But mentally,
You've been gone for years.
I can't determine if it's easier this way,
Or if it'd be of greater benefit for the both of us if you also retired physically.

It's not fair to you,
It's not fair to me.
The most arduous task I'll ever document will be this:
I am grieving your loss,
But you're still here.
I know this life is no longer worth living to you,
And although the life you've lived is priceless,
I wish it didn't have to reach this bitter variation of an end.

I always pictured you in further parts of my life.
My wedding day.
I'd dreamed of you there to meet my husband,
And soon enough, my children,
But I can't have that.
Not all wishes come true,
And I've yet to accept that fact.

But it's time for you to leave,
You want to go back home.
I want you to find peace,
But I'm scared to let you go.

I'm not upset,
I'm scared,
I'm hurt.
It's not your fault,
You are too.
The blames to give,
To this condition,
That wrongfully affected you.

Though you've forgotten me,
You'll never leave my mind.
I hope you know I'll always love you,
Even when you leave my side.

Of the highest building,

She sat on the ledge.
Releasing all thought,
So close to the edge.

As she leaned to look,
A man caught her eye.
Below, he was sitting,
Observing the sky.

As if in a daze,
He disrupted her glance.
He saw she was begging,
For just one more chance.

As one last tear fell,
Down the side of her face,
He shook in agony,
And picked up his pace.

One last choice to make,
Wiped away the tear.
She moved toward the edge,
Away went her fear.

Exhausted from stairs,
The man reached the top.
He opened the door,
He witnessed her drop.

Her feet left the roof,
All thoughts flooded in.
She hated herself,
Even hated her skin.

Completely aghast,

The man neared the ledge.
Unbearable thoughts,
So close to the edge.

As she neared the ground,
She regretted her choice.
She wished she had listened,
To her internal voice.

His feet left the roof,
And he began to fall.
He just meant to stop her,
From jumping at all.

She realized her beauty,
Accepted her flaws.
Too little, too late,
An effect to her cause.

Before reaching ground,
He thought of his past.
So much he'd not done,
Inexperience vast.

A child walked right by,
This unfortunate scene.
He now cuts himself,
And he's only thirteen.

A mom, with her kids,
Saw the tragedy too.
Hung herself that night,
The kids, first to view.

The victims' father,
Completely distraught,
His daughter, his life,
Now nothing but a thought.

Many months had passed,
His heath did decline.
Couldn't eat, couldn't sleep,
He lost his lifeline.

Of the highest building,

He sat on the ledge.
Releasing all thought,
So close to the edge.

He called for his daughter,
Thought he'd give one last try.
He longed for her voice,
He got no reply.

His feet left the roof,
And he began to fall.
He wished he could've stopped her,
From jumping at all.

It was just before dusk,
Tomorrow in sight.
The darkened sky,
Lit only by moonlight.

The birds encircled,
Some unfortunate prey.
I watched from a distance,
This wretched display.

As midnight emerged,
The birds dove in to feast.
In a matter of minutes,
They devoured the beast.

The carcass was bare,
The birds elapsed.
I saw what was left,
And my demeanor collapsed.

Though the body was shredded,
The remains still fresh,
I could make out a face,
They had consumed my flesh.

Strokes on the page,
Wrists moving fluidly as it spreads and leaks across the surface.
You try so hard to erase it,
But we're not living in reality.
Your ink is permanent.
You don't have one of those fancy pens.
It doesn't erase like a pencil.
If it did, what would be the significance?

Pen is made to stain.
We've both been imprinted with the blemish from a pen.
Your pen leaks,
Not just on your page.
His too,
Hers,
Theirs,
And mine.

Sure, tear the pages,
Shred them.
Inflict any form of destruction,
But the ink will remain stained on the page.
There will always be existing evidence of you.
Of the way you so flawlessly allow your words to spill from your mouth to the page.
Of the way you inhale tense air and exhale a sense of tranquility.
Of the way your intensely blue eyes explore the progressional evolution of the materialistic world.
It will all be forever written on the page.

I know you didn't want this for yourself,
Nobody in their right mind ever would.
Maybe you didn't ever want me either,
But change in either extreme is inevitable.
I am not leaving,
No matter how hard you push me away.
I will stay to read every single word you expose to the page,
Even if it gnaws at my heart to be chewed raw.

You can try and hide your pages,
But I'll just read from your eyes.
I can see your hurt.
I can feel your hurt.
It makes me hurt.
It makes me write,
In hopes that my ink will influence the tides from which you view the world.

Please don't stop writing,
I want to keep reading.
Please don't try to erase the disfigurement from your work,
It's my favorite part.
Please find the sublimity in each sentence,
I see it, even if you don't.
Please don't burn the pages,
I think I might burn with them.

I like the silence,
The *****-less waves,
Its shaded vibrance,
The calming rave.

I like the silence,
The barren dread,
I like the silence,
That sits in my head.