Old text messages are the devil
Because they show that one day
it was *"Let's go get coffee together."
And that day led to making out,
behind a shed neither of us owned.
They show that the next week,
you were on your way over
to my house.  
"On my way."
And that day...
oh, god, that day...
I trusted you.
I said no.
My trust was misplaced.
You violated me anyway.
They show that you kept in contact;
you texted me daily for a month after.
As if nothing happened.
As if my life hadn't been torn apart.
"I love you."
"You want to get coffee again?"


(d.d.b)

____________________­____________________

D­o you see a shattered girl,
because I've been trying to tell you people all year,

I'm dying here,

like maybe I was flying around to start with,
but on the inside I'm nothing more then a Moth,

and you expect me to do the things butterfly's can do,

when I can't do more then attempt to mimic there actions,
Following far behind while all the butterfly's migrate,

but I can be miles away from my lover & still smell him from all this way,

because I'm stuck behind butterfly's,
trying to find my way to a better home,

and I will never get to a home where I can be excepted,

every place I get to I am to be greeted with fly swatters,
when butterfly's get loving fingertips to land on as if they were tired,

like they had to run from there death like me,

and everyday I fight for my life,
and the butterfly's live theirs carelessly,

so maybe I can dress in the outer shells of butterfly's that once were,

become the thing all people wanted me to be,
stop smelling my lover from miles the part us,

and let the world control me,

But even when I've given everything I've had,
In, to this ****** idea of a plan of normalcy,

just now you decide to say there may in fact be something wrong with me.

and that when I cut my wing on rose bushes,
so maybe I can feel something better then what you've done to me,

and you try to help me months almost a year after when I am close to death,

by killing me three weeks,
before my life span is up,

**tell me why butterfly's got it so good and moths gotta have it so rough?

the old man asks his daughter
would i be a burden
when these hands can't feed by its own
this body is almost an inanimate mess
by its own can't move place
these feet can't walk to the toilet
on bed release involuntary waste
sit on soiled cloth and foul smell
would you come to my room
a hell smeared in ****** gloom
where now lives your father
who would just won't die
but in his eyes write a poem
from a piece of sky

witness dusk on the top edge
of a mountain higher
than the largest problem man ever created

Having a best friend is a wonderful happening
its a wonder and a **** of the head
a twist in the neck
like the most interesting engagement
transpiring right now

the pink sky fading on a girl's birthday
and a disposable snap shot
of a moment
where two girls smiled
arms outstretched towards infinite sky

individuals independents
fond over memories
of a friend somewhere
out of reach
they pull out like a ruffled note
in a pocket
during times when great things
are happening
but no one to bask with

witness the dusk

we found ourselves there once
except we were dancing above
the problems

Joyous Goddesses content
with blindness in the fog
heading for dawn

I don't think that I have the power
to relate what I know of you
through the prism of a narrative.
I tried to tell your story yesterday
in my carefully constructed
grammatically correct way.
Failing miserably at a proper
biography, as you deserve,
I must recount what I know
in the only way I can.

Within my heart live a series of images,
memories burned into me
by the intensity of our meetings
and the ferocity of the late night
phone calls born of that chemical
with no name, equal parts sorrow and flame.

It was easy to find you,
but God it was hard to leave.
From the first kiss to the last
and everything in between.

I don't know how many times
you called me crying so hard
that you couldn't even speak.
How many times you told me
that you wanted to die without
even a second thought for what
those words did to my heart.
I accepted it all though,
every single strand of you,
gave you all the love I knew how.

There is no word for the sorrow
that comes with knowing that
I couldn't save you from yourself.
It didn't matter how many razors
I took from your trembling hands,
how much blood I wiped from your thigh
or how many tears I shed for you.

At the end, that last night and morning
just a week ago now,
you looked right through me
with eyes that didn't see.
I took you in my arms and there was nothing.
The girl I knew and loved doesn't exist anymore.

I'm sorry that you had to die in my heart,
but know that I loved you enough
for it to be killing me inside.
I guess that the boy in me is gone now,
since I walked away anyway.
I didn't cry, I don't regret it.
You're just one more ghost after all.

In the garden a bird, a flower
gold the edge, gold the dawn that hovers
a song of summer, a tiny sparrow perched
long upon the woody yarrow, that musky fills the air
a redolent warmly breeze brushes by the maple trees
caressing sweet the singing leaves and breathes the air of heaven
in the gold of a halcyon summer
beyond the hills of sage, grey plumes  
a stark blue sky cloudless looms
and sings with birds in lilting waves high above the field
they break the silence in a world transformed
a song - void of man's ordinary words.

You make me feel so good
You make me feel so right
You make me feel like everything will be alright
You make me feel happy :) :)
You make me feel bad too
But when i think, i realize
I am so lucky to have you
Just because
you make me feel like some one loves me too !!!!!