They say a picture is worth a thousand words
The number of pictures in my head is absurd
Each is a memory I'd like to take back
The number of regrets are beginning to stack
A thousand pictures that hold nothing great
A million words that are filled with hate
A million things I wish were different
A million things I wish I hadn't

A picture is worth a thousand words

A thousand pictures, one million words
How to stop the bad pictures from coming?
Make the right decisions to keep your world from crumbling
Take it from me, a girl with mistakes
Each memory causes a chain of heartaches

A picture is worth a thousand words

A thousand pictures, one million words
The number of pictures in my head is absurd
So be careful with all the decisions you make
Or in the end it may be your life you take
Take it from me, the girl who is dead
Just another mistake I made at the end

His hands are warm
I do not wonder who they have touched before
I will not wonder who they will touch after
He touches me
In ways hands can't feel
And eyes can't see

I remember your eyes, those long eyelashes, the bright blue staring back at me
But I've forgotten the look of them gazing at me

I remember the curve of your mouth, your soft full lips, the way they puckered out
But I've forgotten the feeling of kissing you

I remember your hands, big and rough from those hours at the gym
But I've forgotten how they feel in my own hands

I remember your long hair, tugging on it even though I knew you hated it
But I've forgotten the smell of it after you showered

I remember you pulling me close in the night, wrapping your arm tight around my waist
But I've forgotten the warmth from your body

I remember you said you loved me, you said it every time you left
But I've forgotten what it's like to love you because you forgot first

When she was five they told her to say please, they told her to say thank you, and she did. And everything was good and everyone was happy.
When she was eight they told her to listen, they told her to follow directions, and she did. And everything was good and everyone was happy.
When she was ten they told her to work hard, they told her to push herself, and she did. And everything was good and everyone was happy.
When she was sixteen they told her to give up her dreams, they told her to worry about school, and she did. And everything was good and everyone was happy.
Except not everyone.
When she was seventeen they told her to make decisions, they told her to plan for a future career, and she did. And everything was good and everyone was happy.
Except not everyone.
When she was eighteen they told her many things, they told her things she didn't want to do, but she did. And everything was good and everyone was happy.
Except not everyone.
When she was still eighteen she told herself she couldn't do it, she wanted to give up, and she did. And everything felt good and she was happy as she pulled the trigger.

Poems aren't stories, but I'll tell you one anyway
This tale isn't a happy one, so be warned if you stay
I met a boy, it was about a year back
I thought he was funny, but it wasn't much more than that
I spent three months chasing a different boy, I thought he was quite the find
Little did I know that the first boy; I was always on his mind
And so came the time where I gave up on boy number two
For a while I kept to myself, I still didn't think about you
Then suddenly one day, I opened my eyes
And after that you stood out from all other guys
I made a brave move, and I dared you to play
You were up for the game, but I didn't know if you'd stay
It only took one move, our romance rolled into action
I'd sneak into your house, we craved that passion
It didn't take long for you to slip that big word
But the word "girlfriend" was the happiest thing I'd ever heard
Now listen here, this may sound silly
But you were my first, and I couldn't help but worry
Come the end August, I knew you'd have to leave
College isn't something we could take on with ease
But you wrote that letter, I believed every promise you said
I believed in them so much, I memorized them in my head
"Don't forget about me, I know I won't forget about you"
You thought I was lying, but I remember that line too
It wasn't easy, but I say we did pretty well
Little did I know we were headed for hell
College is a busy place, school takes up a lot of time
But for your girlfriend, a lot of that time was mine
I'd hear from you less, and you'd apologize when you could
So I'd just smile and forgive you like I knew that I should
I knew what I was getting into, I was prepared for the fights
He thought he was too, but not for the lonely nights
Ill bet you didn't see this next one coming, it's such a plot twist
He texted me one night, this boy that I missed
He texted me, the boy I didn't notice for a very long time
He texted me, the boy who I now labeled as mine
He texted me, the boy I dared to play a game
He texted me, the boy who said he'd always feel the same
He texted me, the boy who I'd sneak out to see
He texted me, the boy whom I loved, with that he'd agree
He texted me to tell me a relationship wasn't going to last
And suddenly, in four text messages you became a thing of the past
He texted me. No, he did not call
And because of that, my world began to fall
But wait it's not over, don't walk away
I've realized something, and it's something I'd like to say
I don't care who reads this, the audience should be unclear
Didn't you notice, I used the word 'you' in places you shouldn't hear
There's only one person who I care about reading this
And I want him to know something, my last opportunity was missed
I do not hate you, but I do hate this one part
It's the only thing I hate, it's straight from the heart
I hate that you couldn't stand up to me, I hate that you couldn't even call
But you know what else, I hate that I still don't hate you
I don't hate you at all

Write me a poem,
one that changes every time you read it.
Write me a poem,
but let's never talk about it.

Because to write me a poem,
is to speak to me.
To read your poem,
is for me to listen.
To understand your poem,
is to love you.

But we can never speak about your poem.
Because to speak about your poem,
is to destroy it.