Quietly accepting.
We could let this drift away,
but I don't think you would.
Your poker face has even you fooled, love.
But over and over I'll put my cards on the table and I'll try not to stand up on my chair to tell you all about my heart and the things I know.

I'm going through something
It comes with a lot of emotion and music and thinking and writing (most of which doesn't make total sense yet)
And, mom, I will be fine
I just need space
I need to not talk
Or I need to talk too much
I want to be who I want to be - I'm ready
I'm done sitting and thinking about it
And mourning
I don't want to grieve anymore
I need to let myself be hungry
I will forgive myself even if it came last
I'm going through something
And it comes with... Well, a lot

wait
where did you go?
all I can see is your ghost
but you swore that you loved us
so, so, so

please
tell me that you’re still with me
just out there somewhere spinning
even if you’re far from yourself
please don’t let that news hit me

help
I’m over here always angry
and you’d never even thank me
give you every chance you’ll take,
and you’ll always leave me hanging

maybe it’s not fair
I could never not care
I’ll curse your name
while I carry your pain
and a mostly silent rage
god, take us to an enlightened age
not your violent grave

you were so used to hiding everything
from everyone,
you didn't know what to do
once someone knew all your secrets.

she would come to you falling apart at the seams. she would confess all her midnight tragedies and she would beg you for answers that she knew she would not find in you. she would cry and scream, it was not fair. you, scared to your core, glimpsed what a soul could go through and you told her it would be okay. you had no way of knowing that. you lied so as to keep her from slipping away into her deep sorrow and late vulnerability. and mere hours later, the sun would rise, and you would never be invited that deep into her mind ever again. you would never again feel her soul. she knew to look somewhere else for answers next time. she knew you did not understand.

I would honestly do anything for you
youre the first and only I can say that to
there are loads of things I can't express
like that I love you more than I could even suggest

I don't want to talk about you moving on
I don't want to discuss your future
I don't want to hear about you cutting off the dead weight to fly free and happy while I fall to ground and break the concrete.

i would say, "here i am again"
but it seems to be a different place every time i fall down here.
maybe like a house you've been visiting since childhood but each time you find it, it's on a different street, it's a different color, full of different furniture.
i'm in it again.
i don't remember how.
it's a blur of empty words
too much sleep
miles of cigarettes
and a need to bleed.
it occurs to me there's no one to drag me out alive this time.

The one way you're bad for me, and I find the good in it.

I've never been good at being alone.
Never.
I've always needed.
Needed and needed more.
Why can't I just be alone?
Why is it worse now?
She tries. Tries more than they did. She soothes.
I know I need too much.
Nothing's ever good enough.
It's true.  
It's inside me, and I feel it, and I ignore it, and it wrenches at my organs.
Why can't I be alone?

I knew I was being pathetic,
desperate,
but God, I just wanted to talk to you.
I just wanted to hide in that small, dark room forever, listening to your voice.

I wonder what you've told them about me
I wonder if you told them the whole thing hurt like hell

The world always made me feel like I am
too much, too fast
And maybe that's just really unfair
Maybe the only one I should apologize to
is myself
For saying, "shh, keep that in. They're not ready for that."
I am not sorry I lived too much, too soon. I am not sorry I know too well what I want and need now.

distance
depression
desperation

i just know i made you feel so alive

i envy the ghosts
who get to spend all their time where they want, with whom they want
i envy their transparency
that would allow me to watch over you
eradicating facades, destroying pretenses
i'm really getting quite jealous of the ghosts, how they are able to drift silently around you, gazing at you, watching you laugh, cry and live.
but i know now that i am a ghost
and sadly i have my limits

a hollow in my stomach
sometimes i feel sick
a hole in my heart
maybe it was always there
a clock that only i can hear ticking
i wish i could say that i didn't know
it was possible to want something so badly it hurt but i have felt it before
just never so much of it
my tongue wants to speak cliches into repetition madness
my eyes want to cry an ocean up to the moon
my head gives me useless ******* logic

my heart wants you more every day

I am a house on fire
I am a cracked windshield waiting for a bump in the road
I am ***** clothes in the corner of the bedroom
I am a respiratory system full of water


You think your suffering friends never reached out because they thought you wouldn't understand, wouldn't be there for them...
No. The reason they didn't come to you
is because there was nothing you could do.

all you had to do was
look and
see
what was right in ******* front of you

Don't do it
Don't do it
Don't
Do
It

I run my hand across my skin and expect to feel my old body, it's a shock sometimes
This one is heavier, stretched, scarred and permanently bruised
And I don't know what I'll see when they flash the lights
But lately I'm stuck in the idea that we never fit together very well
It's like pushing two wrong puzzle pieces together and realizing it makes a better picture than the one on the box
"Robin's better than the perfect girl. She's real."
But how many times do I have to make the worst decision?
For once I want to be something... Quiet. Content. Restful.
How sobering it would be to sit and think
"things are good. this is nice. I will never
need anything else."

What if I don't make it to where I'm supposed to be before I have a chance to change it all?

first heartaches
but not an innocent
and gentle
introduction
to sorrow

first heartbreaks
of fists and claws
tearing fibers away
memories of stumbling, gripping
the threads together, so far from sewn

stitched heart strings
together, or tried to,
fire came, not right
but right on time, and blazed through
the twines and lines

first heart pains
not kind or lenient,
or considerate of youth.
ripped and burned,
and drained,
and i had only a child’s blood to bleed.