Two years ago this day you had so much to say, begging me to stay. At the time I was so blind I was willing to play, allowing myself to be tamed. Back then you were on the other side of the world, now you're a mere four hours away. The thought of seeing this world without you by my side had me feeling like I wouldn't make it out of heartache alive. I cried, thought most of me had died, then I came to realize, when you love a man beyond what you can handle that beauty never dies. Once I embraced the bitter sweetness of that bite, I took flight into the night, no longer fearing a world without your light. You taught me that fairy tales aren't reality, and the low of learning that has let me find beauty beyond any white horse fantasy. I know in my core that behind those baby brown Saggitarian eyes there's adoration for me that will never die. No dime you ever find can hold it down with a love like mine, finally that's fine.

Dear Agony,
I'm sick of this game you call love.
I must admit I've had enough.
I would gladly drown in my own confusion
rather than to continue this miserable optic allusion.
I distrust you, and detest you.
I am moving on to better days.
Your friend,
Dead&Gon;;.

I could have been the one . . . . .

That your heart so longs to hold . . . . .

I could have been the one . . . . .

But I didn't fit the mold . . . . .

You wanted me to be perfect . . . . .

Which I really couldn't be . . . . .

I was just too busy . . . . .

Only being me . . . . .

You can't just dine; It's not time.
Sleep, lines the bottoms of her eyes.
The circles form overnight, deprivation, falsification.
So if her common sense neglected?
It's 'cause something bigger's detected.
She doesn't mind being left behind.
She would rather go slowly to watch the sunset, anyways.
No reason to look behind the smokescreen (there are some things that no one needs to find.)
Look on as she survives another attempt, kinetic in her learning. Pleading guilty in a non guilty crime.
Avoiding awkward by jumping the fence to turn and step.
Can't help the second nature, her reflexes from past experience stay quick-just to hate her.
They taught her well, as she sought to dip-set
(back to her speculum of normalcy.)
Walking down the street, curbing the beat.
Lights flicker in and out; shadow-boxing down the alleyways of her life.  
Her eyes may have welled, only to dry; in the heat of the moment, regrettably she could only, sigh.
The one thing her mother taught her is to never believe in surprise. Collectively she will be waiting for the day and time when she gets hit from behind the lines, life flies by and she is not afraid to die.

"And she will bite her bottom lip all she wants."

(in)sensitive.
which one am i?
both.
or maybe neither.
senses, sensing, emotion.
sometimes, i shut myself off from that.
i don't want to cry,
get upset,
be bothered.
i don't want to be angry,
misunderstood,
apathetic.
too much of one,
too little of another.
i guess i can't be both.
i just don't want to be,
(in)sensitive.