You could never feel my story.
Every word written in between the lines.
Scrawled in the deepest shades of my morality.

I'll hand you a box, full of my darkness.

It'll be years before you realize, this was a gift, to understand my story.

You stomp on the glass floor
And when it shatters and you fall through
You point at me

I can rest easier now.
My head hurts less than it did before,
my thoughts slow down
when it's time to sleep.
I can allow the world to just shut down
and be at rest.

For once in my life
I can sleep in peace.

People don't realize the damage they've caused until they open their eyes and see the ashes of what once was and the fires burning what will never be again

the only thing necessary for me
is the stars
something to stare up at
and wonder
but now
you've become my stars
and I stare at you
and wonder
what will come

If I'm the last white cloud at sunset
You're the morning hue of the sky (orange-red).
If I'm the concentrated chaos in my eyes
You're the mirthful flash of your pearly whites.
If you're the cool blue pool in summertime
I'm the orange orange (which doesn't even rhyme).
We're poles apart, you and I
But once in a while we see eye to eye
And the space in which our gaze meets
Is as close as I'll be to infinity.