Everytime,
I put pencil to paper,
I freeze up.

I want to draw,
but ever since I started getting grades on them,
I can't.

I used to draw to get away from my work,
now it is my work.

I used to draw to destress,
now it is the main cause of it.

I just want to be able to doodle again.

The little thing's I do not share,
the little things I keep inside.

To hear you sing to your car radio,
to hear your passion,
to watch you drive.
As the lights of the rode caress your face,
I see your eyes flicker to me,
and you make a sidewise smile as you notice my gaze.

I study you,
like I do the **** models I draw for hours on end.
Memorizing every curve,
every dip,
every line.

When you tell me you love me you don't just with your lips,
but with your eyes,
with your body,
with your sole.

I feel as we are intertwined under the covers our sole are somehow combined.
Like hydrogen and oxygen we create life,
like potassium permanganate and glycerol we ignite
like Potassium Chlorate and Sulfur we explode into a show so stunning it lights up the faces of everyone around us.

Your kiss,
when the world is swirling around us and I make myself sick with worry,
you can make it stop.
You hold my face in my hands and keep everything else out,
if just for a second,
we're alone.

When you look at me with the saddest eye to ever grace this Earth,
I do not wonder why you worry,
but I wonder what would ever make you think I would leave,
I could leave.
Yet sometimes I worry the same.

You,
with all of your love.

You,
with all of your flaws.

You sometimes forget how to "relationship,"
but you never forget me.

You,
you hit walls when your angry,
but I will always be here to bandage your wounds.

You,
sometimes can't vocalise everything you mean properly,
but you don't need to,
because I know,
and I feel it too.

You,
run off and get yourself in so much trouble,
but I keep you in line,
and you teach me how to step outside them sometimes.

These little thing I take note of and never share,
I wonder what little things you keep of me.

There are days where I still feel guilt,
for letting my loyalty slip.

For falling,
away from you,
and for him.

These days I look at old photos of us,
and I realize,
I do not love you.
I look and I see someone who cared for me,
who looked after me,
who I spent a year and a half with,
but whom I no longer love.

I know that there was a time where I loved you,
where no one could make me smile quite like you.
No one could make me feel so comfortable,
and no one else occupied my dreams.

We, do not work.

We are too different and you are too controlling.
I would talk about my passions to you and your eyes would glaze over.
I would listen to music with you, but when you sang the words,
there was no fervor.
I would make a joke, and you would be offended.
You would make a joke,
and I would laugh,
even if it wasn't funny.

You would proclaim your love to me in any in every way possible.
In public,
in private,
and I felt secure.
Secure that you would never leave me,
but not that I would never leave you.

You would blame me for all of our problems,
but never out right.
You would make me feel like **** about have a disorder I could not control,
but you would do it with words of love.
You blinded me from all I wanted to accomplish,
cradled me with indifference,
suffocated me with safety.

I slipped,
I fell,
and I could not control it.
When a boy came up to me and fixed my clipped wings,
flew beside me instead of tying me down,
gave me freedom and love and hope.
I fell,
I flew,
I left.

There is nothing worst,
then thous days you can feel yourself slipping,
your seems bursting,
your emotions braking though.
You're just waiting for something,
to evenly,
shatter you.

All day,
you live your life like your standing on the edge of a cliff,
and the rocks beneath your feet,
are crumbling away.

You start to fear,
who,
when,
where will I go off?
It probably wont even be justified,
and that's the worst part,
you're to weak to be able to handle your own emotions.

When the seal is finally broken,
you can only wait for everything to spill out,
for the flow to slow enough,
that you can cap it again,
and wait for the next build up.
Get yourself together,
and pretend,
that you are,
unbreakable.

I'm here!
I swear I'm here,
I'll never leave your side,
and though I know you don't always believe me,
I love you,
and you are beautiful.

I'm sorry we don't talk every day,
I'm sorry I can't always be by your side,
I'm sorry I can't protect you.

Come with me,
let us block out the world,
if only for a while,
let us feel valued.

I wonder why,
the rest of the world don't see you,
like I do.
What do they see,
when they look at you?
For they can't be seeing the same thing I do,
otherwise they would know how lucky they were,
just to have met you.

I'm not always there,
but I want to be,
I want to help,
but how do you defeat an enemy,
that is inside you?

You do not see what I do,
but I see someone who can conquer the world,
I see someone who can write,
who saved me,
and never lets me wonder far.

I'm here!
Please just know I'm here,
and I love you.

Whistling,
whirling,
swirling.

As the first snow falls to the ground,

it leaves us housebound.

The whistling silence that lives outside,

from this I must hide.

As the fires breath gives us heat,

this is where we meet,

brought together through simple circumstance,

I look out as the snowflakes dance.

Whistling,
whirling,
swirling.

Clang!

goes the unhinged doors,

the storms hunger begs for more.

Crash!

goes the broken branches,

for a second our blood flow stanches.

Whistling,
whirling,
swirling.

The eyes of the fire jump out,

for more firewood it shouts,

this beast we must keep at bay,

it's the only way to make the warmth stay.

The hunger that is outside, and that that is in,

one so cold, the other burns the skin.

From these to poisons we must choose,

oh this winter we are paying our dues.

I think of spring and all it promises,

but all I can hear is,

whistling,
whirling,
swirling,
whistling,
whirling,
swirling­,
whistling,
whirling,
swirling.

Stupid little things that don't matter,
that get to me.

I don't know why I feel forgotten sometimes,
or out of place.

I don't want to need to be around you,
or feel like when I hang out with you and your friends I'm being too much.

I don't want to be that girl.

The one who gets upset when it take you over a half hour to reply,
we're busy people,
and neither of us are attached to our phones.

I don't know how I always convince myself you don't miss me,
you don't really want me around.

So I try to give you space,
but then do you take that as me pushing you away?

I never dought you when we are together,
but maybe that means,
I need to spend some time alone.

Maybe I have to get used to not always being around you,
not relying on you so much.

But I want you to rely on me,
and I want us to stay as close as we are.

There is nothing wrong with our relationship,
but my mind keeps telling me there is.

That I'm going to get hurt,
that I'm doing something wrong,
that I'm too clingy,
too distent,
too needy,
not open enough.

Sometimes I feel like I don't say I love you enough,
but then I feel like I do it too much.

My head is whirling with insecurities,
that I fear will drive you away.

"Look at you feeling upset because he not around,
or he said something wrong,
or didn't answer your text."

"Look at yourself."
I think,
"This is disgraceful, do you really think anyone would want to be with someone so clingy so needy so broken"

"You are already loaded down with baggage,
now you're going to be overly attached too."

These thoughts I wish could be silenced,
but keep running through my head,
I fear to be that girl,
but look at yourself,
look at yourself,
you already are.

I'm constantly,
pleasantly,
surpresed,
by your innate ability,
to know me.
To love me,
and comfort,
I find a familiarity with you,
one that needs no walls.
I would often lay in bed at night,
and be home sick,
laying in the house I lived in,
knowing this is not where I belong.
I have found it now though,
and it is with you,
when we go on adventures,
when we travel,
when we talk,
and when we lay in bed,
in the house we live in.

Music,
your music,
every song has once remended you of another girl,
another relationship,
in another time.
Songs of sweet love,
and never giving up,
songs of hope,
and romance.
I would listen with you,
but couldn't help but know,
that it was another,
they
were
once
for.
None of those songs are ours,
none define us,
we can not be held in lyrics.
Only pure emotions can describe us,
no group of phrases,
hold
what
one
note
can.
The first song you ever showed me was pure,
it was a new song to you,
as we were,
to each other.
There was no history behind it,
no exes it could remind you of,
no words trying to grasp the concept of love.
Only music.
Only love.
Only us.

The first love I felt was like a fire,
it started slow,
and then it grew into a blaze.
The heat became so intense it hurt to be around,
and required all of my attention to keep it under control.

It consumed everything,
it's light so bright it blinded me from what I needed to see.

But this love,
this love is kind,
and soft.

It's rooted in friendship,
and flows like a river.

It's calms me,
centers me,
and is unwavering.

This is a life of stability,
consistency,
and acceptance.

I don't have to question my actions,
or feel guilty for things I don't even understand.

This is a gentle love.

Time passes so slowly when your waiting,
waiting to move on,
and out.

An inability to stay still,
dancing,
a celebration life,
an acceptance of death.
Simultaneously,
connected,
and able to be alone.
Consumed in the notes,
and yourself,
feeling the company of others around.
A life separate from your own,
while also,
learning,
and dealing,
with emotions you could not comprehend,
without.
Healing the wounds,
a goal to strive for,
happiness.

I feel,
inadequate.

For you see in my last relationship I was smothered,
suffocated,
bombarded with confections of love.

And I hated it.

I needed to breath,
and spread my wings,
so I left.

However now everything is much more...
subtle,
comparatively.

Now I text to much,
I ask for your attention to much,
I take up to much of your time.

And though, though are all lies,
sometimes,
I can't help but feel ,
inadequate.

My self loathing thoughts creep in,
more like they rush in,
flooding my brain,
downing in sorrows I can not share.
Simply because I don't want to take up more of your time,
you had no idea what you were in for when we started this,
you didn't know that what you were getting,
I,
was,
am,
damaged.

I'm afraid,
for I have found a solace in you that only my closest friends have given me before,
and I don't want to loose that,
us.

I need to think differently,
positively,
look up,
cheer up,
for it's not like this is the first time mental illness has effect you,
me.

At least you have someone "special."
But you see I have always had special people in my life,
this one just has not been around long enough,
for me to know,
that they will stay,
if you will stay.

Or leave me broken,
more broken,
but not alone,
never alone.

Afraid,
why am I still afraid?

You have done everything right,
you have brought down so many of my walls,
and I feel safe in your arms.

Still I feel jealousy for people who are not my rival,
still I worry about things I just can not put my finger on.

I do not fear forever with you,
so,
why am I still ,
afraid?

I want to frame this moment,
and keep it forever.

Hang it in a gallery,
along side everything else I care for.

Have people in pressed collars,
and dark suits,
come to see us,
as we are.

I want to frame this moment,
and always be able to go back to it.

Memorize every brush stroke,
trace the lines,
we left.

Moments like these,
Are the ones I'll look back on,
and smile.

For even in the darkest moments,
together,
we were able to find,
happyness

I wish the sun on my face,
could shine a light on my mind.

Warm my soul,
as it warms my skin.

The gentle kiss of the rays,
could awaken me,
move me,
and fill me up.

Even if it burnt,
it would be better than ice.

I wish for it to penetrate the skin,
mind,
and heart.

Brighten me,
as it does the morning.

Why is it that the people we think of first,
are the last to think of us?

When messages are left unresponded to,
yet are seen.
When calls are left un answered,
yet herd.
We are left to deal with these emotions alone.

Sweet release,
until the clouds faid.
Mental freedom,
until your vision clears.
For only a few minutes you forget your pain,
regret,
and you can laugh freely.
When it comes back though,
it comes back at full force,
making up for lost time.
So you scramble to find a new release,
a better one,
a stronger one.
When you are looking for mental liberation,
first think of your state of mind,
and why it is you want it,
before you need it.
I've seen it before,
stop it before it begins,
please,
for me.

Isn't it funny,
that by simply writing down my feelings,
letting them out,
I feel better.

Some think the people who writing such sad things are wallowing in pain,
when really,
there fighting.

What is the point of living if you can't feel?

There is none,
I concluded on a New England night.
Emotions are what drive us,
and what keep up from simply bing zombies walking through the world.

Emotions are what make life worth living,
and I have locked mine away.

Deep within the recesses of my mine,
I found them,
and let them out.

Years of unnoticed pain now burn my veins,
I must learn how to live life,
all over again.