Skin clung around my bones like an itchy sweater. Nerves on fire with anticipation. I have been around myself long enough to know I cannot be alone much longer. Drowned in emotions too often to know that this dull indifference is just the calm before the storm.
You have robbed me of everything. Of my best friend, of my family, of my faith and trust, of love. And now you have thieved me of my emotions. I am an empty shell, body aching from longing. I do not want to cry because I am not sad. I do not wish to yell because I am not angry. Yet I cannot smile because I am neither happy. I do not speak because I have no words to say to you. I wasted them begging you not to leave the first time.
I am unsure if this is of content, for I've never experienced it. All I know is nothing scares me more than myself. What I am capable of doing when I have nothing to lose when the storm arrives.

I heard your whisper and
it broke, giving way to air.
your shadow’s edges
slowly rot into
the pages’ rips and tears.

raise me from this grave.
I hope the ground stains your hands
from the life you stole.

stuck in an endless circle
having no interest in the destination
yet here I am, moving forward

I wish I had the courage
to choose myself.

there is bravery in normality
but for me, I am just
blending in.
I don't want to make a fuss.

i'm so sick.
tainted by this disease
that has crawled its way
through my chest
and now defines me.

it's all i am.
all i do.
it's my thoughts, my words
my touch.

i need help
and i cried out
but they paid no mind to me.
they watched me drown
and pulled me down
farther into depth.

he was the storm
he was my fire
he was the wave
of pain.

he was my calm
the deafening quiet
stripped of my bones
i hang.
i can be strong
i will outrun him
i will win
his game.

to have lost, to watch
you leave my room one last time.
the sunlight followed.

i'm washed up
overrated
hateful and mean.
i'm in love with
my own misery
that i would ever be
with anyone else.

sorry to let you down.

i find it kind of humorous how i'm so broken, so messed up inside that everyone has given up on me.
they told me they would be by my side all through recovery. almost a year has passed and they're just now realizing my illness cannot be veiled by medication. that my demise was a part of my life. i still wake up screaming, running away from monsters just to wake up and face them in the daylight.

i'd rather be alone than to forgive people. or at least apologize. they hurt me and it's my fault for letting them get so close. i am a mistake. paralyzed by the inability to socialize, to love, to be happy. i just can't do this.

no one else is around because i pushed them away. so i deserve this.

i've seen things that haunt me with every turn i take. i just can't shake their ghosts that howl and crawl their way back into my soul, darkness settling deep in my stomach like a lead weight. and there's nothing i can do. no matter how many pills i swallow, alcohol in my system, or chemicals in my lungs; there's no running away from them. there's nothing i can do.
and i realize my existence is a joke. i know i've hurt so many people. i know i'm a mess and it would just be easier if i pulled the trigger. because i can't love. i can't feel. i can't move on. i'm stuck and i need help.
but i realize, i'm here because i'm a fighter and i don't accept defeat.

"You should just **** yourself," he scoffed. His words slicing open the scars.

I couldn't help but laugh. "I'm working on it."

i dreamt of you last night

there we stood, at the campground
separated by the delicate ties
woven together in the intricate web
that brought us together in the first place.
we had to act as strangers even though
i know more about you than your
best friend,who stood three feet away.
couldn't meet my eyes to risk familiarity.

even my dreams know
we can't be together.

I am not graceful. I am not dangerous. I do not know many words and I have not seen many places. I am limited by my own normality that nearly borderlines ignorance.

I am bruised thighs and too-short nails. I am scarred wrists peeking out beneath sleeves and the uncomfortable shift of those around me.

I am flat notes sung and misinterpreted sentences that go on without correction.

I am a writer that has nothing to say. Always standing on Sunday night's edge. There is so much potential to be held but it so often falls through fingertips.

I am his placeholder. And when I leave, it will not hurt as badly as those before me because I am forever--always--temporary.

I think I'm becoming a sociopath.
I know I should be scared
but I'm not.
I can't feel anything.

I cannot hurt you with words.
Now with the hundreds of miles between us.
Not with the bitter night's air
slicing open my lungs and
closing the corset around my ribs.

I cannot strike you.
My will refuses to pick up the knife
even when it is mounted into my back.
I cannot inflict pain
just to regain balance after these years.

You cannot love me with words.
You have not even tried.
Wrote me off, a lost cause
What is there to lose when
I am the only one who invested.

But you can hurt me with silence.
You yourself carved your name into my wrists.
It was your hands around my neck as I screamed.
It was a slap across my face that summer night
when I asked you to stay.

But if you were to stay, all would be forgiven.

days like this remind me of how mentally ill I am. Why he left me. Why I want him. Why most of my friends got tired of my ****. Why my family is discomforted by my presence.

I feel like every time I'm in the room with them, I have to excuse myself. I cannot conjure the energy anymore to act like everything or even anything is alright.

If it was meant to be, then why is it so difficult? Why am I always asked for the extra effort to hold your end?
I fear that God has a grudge against us. The angels are casting their bets. They look down and laugh. They laugh at me. That stupid girl.
I thought "at least we have love."
But what is love when even that proves not strong enough to last?
It's an empty promise.
But my world without you is an empty life. At least now I have hope. A false sense of it but hope to say the least. Built upon the lies you routinely feed me. The lies I willingly accept.

Ignorance is bliss, after all.

“Hey, look at me,” he words crept into the darkened room. His hand sweeping my chin to face him. Through the pulsing wave of drunkenness and the thick night time air, I could still see his green eyes, the crease where his dimples carve into his face, and the way the corner of his lips tug to the side before he is about to say something.

“I love you,” he said.

Closing my eyes in a smile, a warmth spread through my chest. A relief. A verification that maybe my life can be this perfect.

“I love you too,” I replied, kissing his face.

It took no thought for me to give this promise, because although he may think that he was the one that said it first, I have been repeating it to him this past month. I whispered those words as his head rested on my chest. I whispered them when he brushed my hair out of my eyes and kissed my forehead. I whispered them when I realized that I have never been this truly happy in my life.

“It’s been so long since I’ve been this happy,” he slurred into my cheek, kissing my skin. He had no idea.

had always stood out from the others. He was the answer key that I had compared all others to. All of them fell short. For five years I was reluctant to give myself to him and I am unsure as to why except for the fact that every time the thought was considered, I pictured myself myself walking into an inferno. My entire being engulfed in flames; all of my nerved exposed. All so exposed...
Those before him were that compared to a virus. Running swiftly through my veins; my body burning in a constant fever. My own love was destroying me.
But falling in love with       was like rediscovering a sense that I had not known was disabled. I was able to see clearly for the first time in years. He wiped away the sleep from my eyes. The world was beautiful again. I never knew a touch could be so gentle, so loving. It had been so long since I've been held. I never knew words could sound so beautiful until when they glided off his lips.
Together we discovered the ability to slow time. Kissing his lips, I felt each second, each pulse pushing throughout his veins. The faceless boys before him were solely on possession. They consumed me entirely. There was no 'me'; I simply did not exist. I was not living.
      was nirvana. He freed me from pain and worry. He introduced me to pure beauty. I did not know that I was able to feel happiness anymore. He stayed*, and dug it out of me as if he had always known it was there. When I look in the mirror, I actually see my reflection. My smile. It's been so long...

Fearlessly and willingly, I walked into the flames. And in all of his beauty, he set me afire, raising me from the ashes of my shadows, freeing me. Able to stand on my own. I am finally alive.

this constant state of being unwanted is unflatteringly lonely. i was supposed to be different with you, right?

im stuck in the middle. i can either be successful since i was cursed with great potential or i could just **** myself because i was also cursed with intellect. im too smart for hope. but im in the middle and i shouldnt be. i cannot function this way.

i dont like to admit this, but i am scared of death. but i am also incredibly distraught with life and people.

just so disappointed.

I was taught not to expect things.

That boys only want to borrow, not keep.

will you please open up the door
this time I'm ready to come in
I know what I've said before but
there is nothing more left that I can give.
all those years you left it open
all those years you called my name
but I was a child then, yet to learn
that things don't remain the same.
I will be here, waiting
it's okay to take your time
and I know if I were you
in your shoes, I wouldn't give
a second chance, I'm not going to lie.
but I really miss my friend here
he was all that I had left
I was too stupid to realize you,
out of all, were the best.
oh, just to see you smile
even if I'm not the reason anymore
just please, old friend, please
will you open up the door.

Your body lay next to mine, the morning sun
burning your outline, ashes into the air,
as I reached out to catch the remnants, palms empty.
I felt your name escape my lungs, evaporating

into the damp grey. Body weighed down by
empty sheets and the aching emptiness.
Mind racing miles, a carousel blurred in confusion.
Entirety of my being desperately weeping.

An addict through withdrawals, all I want
is one more hit. One more time to hear the
sound of my name fall of the surface of your
lips. One more memory of you brushing the

hair out of my face to brand its way onto
my brain, to relive it over and over again.
One more night of holding my body against
yours, the warming comfort of your skin.

My bones long for you, fatigued by your absence.
There is no color, there is no sound, there is no taste.
There is no sense without you here,
without the certainty of your existence.

I cried for you not to go, on knees in prayer.
So afraid of losing what I prized most.
But you never stray from my mind,
declining the wounds of loneliness to ever heal.

But to be near you without your touch,
to have to act like I don’t know all your secrets,
that I’ve never held your naked body,
that you don’t give my life meaning

is the worst punishment of all.
I’m in love with this addiction and
I’m not about to quit. My string of
****** that sends me to nirvana.

She lends her pen,
to thoughts of him,
that flow from it,
in her solitary.

For she is his poet,
And he is her poetry.*

-Lang Leav

I’m afraid Sunday’s expectation
is harder to swallow than I thought.
that the grey, evening air does not sit
in my lungs so easily.

the promise of your presence hangs
on the delicate thread of your word
that has been known to give way many
times before.

stop running me through the sevens
to meet the same conclusion again,
do not try to lift these spirits
just to let them fall through your hands.

just let me move on from your broken word,
verify my claims and rid from this hurt.

I found the one
that took away my sadness:
all I ever had.

that helped me realize
there is so much more.

you say "**** it"
and you leave me at the bar.
I can see the first cigarette
you've had in weeks
being lit in the post-midnight
Joplin air.
and I toss my head back
and let ***** hug my veins
and rock me into the space
where all the edges are soft
and the air is twice as thick,
making the space between
the bar and the sidewalk
that much apparent.

When we first met, it was almost like a movie. And you were kind, and warm, and loving and all the unidentifiable qualities that I’ve always known that I was missing but that I couldn’t quite name. You brought me so close to the sun that I nearly lost my footing. Oh, but the view! An adventure—you were the unknown yet the assurance that you were, in fact, what I’ve been waiting for. You became a virus—in the most romanticized way. My dear, I did not wish to be rid of you. You were all I could see, a scarlet fever casting rosy shade. And the doctors all told me that I would lose myself to you, but I only almost heard their warnings. You see, when you are that close to the sun, it is hard to tell between a sunburn and seared skin. From that height, everything is small, detached, and insignificant and it became my only sense of reality. But even you, yourself, became a challenge. Blistering scars behind elbows not quite completely covered by long sleeves in July heat and the collecting makeshift holes marking your belt. I almost asked, but you see, then it would be our problem. And I wasn’t quite ready for that. I knew we were on the edge of something great, and I didn’t want Her to cut us short. You disappeared with Her for weeks—sometimes I wished that you were in the arms of another instead. Cause when She whistled through the needle, into your veins, She always took more and more of you away. She carved you hollow and you stood as a ruin of the temple I once worshipped. I almost didn’t recognize you and from this height, I couldn’t see how you slowly began disappearing. I still think about you often, and what name you would have, carved into stone above the relationship gone bad. You are my Almost. Because we were on the edge of something beautiful, but we fell short. Almost—the name sat on my tongue as your mother asked me if I had known, and the words almost made it out of my throat but even I was not ready to admit that you slipped through my fingers. Almost—as in I almost made it to your apartment in time. And maybe I could have stopped Her from taking the last bit of you. Maybe I would have caught you before you hit the ground.

take me fast in rolling gusts
and pull me underneath.
I ate your words as you fed
them to me. but they all
caught between my teeth.

he called me the most beautiful
shade of gray, a questioning elegance
that held a mystery he couldn’t resist.
I saw him as the dark nighttime air,
swallowing and suffocating whatever
light was offered. and I told myself
that nothing good could come from
this, from being swallowed whole.
but his hands were so gentle
and his voice soothing that I lost
myself in the night’s embrace.

black is the absorption of all colors.
I found the harder I looked, the more
shades I could dissect. he was an
intoxicating red that coarse through
your veins like a virus. he had deep
blues and purples that you had to be
careful while swimming in, do not
submerge yourself too deeply into
those waters or you yourself would lose
your way. he had colors collected by a
lifetime of aspirations and disappointments
and rejected love and affections.
you could see the cracks in the colors
where he fell too short, before he
was stained by circumstances and
obligations. when he was a white
slate, barely turning gray,
vulnerable and new.

from time to time I pull on the shades,
roses for dulling the pain.
but I return to piecing the mirror back again
each hoping the reflection won't be the same.
you stand in the kitchen, clutching coffee and *****.
try to drink the ache away.
you can't quite identify the void that's carved inside
but this has become the routine of your days.

with only two hours left to sleep
your dreams followed you through opening of eyes
and you made your home inside the haze.
words burn in the chamber of smoke
as faces fade with the pink shade.
you find yourself at the window once again
wondering what it's like to fly.
you and I know the only freedom we can hold
is the release int he act to die.

six feet under you hold me down.
I'm left confused, dressed in blacks and blues.
keeping a palmful of ground
so while they see that it's only me
I'll always have you around.

Onetwothreefour
Onetwothreefourfivesixseven
Onetwothreefourfivesi­xseveneight.
Onetwothreefour
Onetwothreefourfivesixseven
Onetwoth­reefourfivesixseveneight.
Onetwothe blinding light.
Bright.
****.
Onetwothreefourfi—ants.
Crawling up and down my spine.
Fire. Electrifying my veins
Ripriprip them out.
Bleed the bad out.
****.
Onetwothreefourfivesixsev
There is no solitude.
There is no true isolation
When every time my eyelids shut
His face is branded on the inside like veins.
Proteins and cells dance together
Into memories far gone and much missed.
One breath in.
If only that would do the trick.
But there is obligation in it.
Follow up required.
Two doctors that told me depression was normal.
Follow ups every week to month
To when the next bad reaction to medication.
Three times I accepted him back into my life.
Why did I let him in again?
The flame of ******* is always to be chased
After the first hit.
Four times
That I actually remember him say
That he loved me.
But it would be zero
As to the number of times he proved so.
Five years since I have been happy.
Or is it more?
I don’t remember anymore.
Six…six…six…
Because I chose to side with the devil
Since God would not love me.
Seven was my lucky number
Until I concluded that
Luck must not run in my family.
Eight. Open.
In.
Onetwothreefour.
Hold. Still.
Onetwothreefourfivesixseven.
Outoutout.
Onetwothreefourfiv­esixseveneight.
Are you okay now?

What a stupid question.

we were the essence of the
early morning dust, floating
in expectation, of the
restriction in hopes we held.
I long for your touch, your gaze
gliding over my skin, your
illuminating shadow
imprinted as galaxies
growing over my body.
love me under covers,
hold me as your universe.
your meaning, your light to guide.
when mornings drag you away.

Rehearsal’s meant for perfection, but this is another stage.The act of doing. Blinded by the spotlight, struck still by the paralyzing heartbeat in my throat. And this is not the first time that I have been here, I am not proud to say. And I am unsure of which part I am more ashamed of: the fact that I felt the need to do, or that I lacked the courage to follow through. So here we are again, brought together by the forces of the wind. Being pulled together by the strings of our hearts, playing each other in the selfish game this has always been. It’s physics, no matter how far we run from each other, no matter how much blood was shed when I tried to cut you free, no matter how many cold shoulders we rested on at night; we always return to the same place, this same state. A vicious cycle that every time steals more and more of my sanity. I feel it slip through my fingers quicker each time and I claw and I claw my way to regain it, but there you are, holding it in your hand. A trophy. You’ve claimed everything of mine; maybe it was unknowingly so. But I have no tears left to shed, ducts dried and shriveled. I have not felt the knife of anger and sadness in my side for a long time, nor the relief of laughter and happiness; even on Friday nights when I’m laying next to you, under your covers. Just this terrible, aching numbness. This inhumane indifference that curdles at the pit of my stomach. I cannot daydream because I always somehow return back to you. And most nights I can’t fall asleep, but I’m more so afraid to. Of believing that you really are in front of me, brushing the hair out of my face and kissing my neck, just to wake up to a bed filled with haunting memories and a body aching with the desire to be held.
This cycle has to come to an end, and here we are. I stand there before you, silver blade of the knife shining from my hand. For the first time in an entire year, I finally evoke emotion. Your eyes grow wide with shock and fear like I’ve never seen before. I’m sure a while ago, accomplishment would have coursed through me. But I am only here to end this. To end your prolonged chapter of my life; overdue.
Give me an hour or so, I could name all the wrongdoings you’ve ever done. I could document and chronicle the periods of pain that have filled these past two years of my life, only to be broken by short bursts of shallow happiness. Although this is all true, I still love you. And I know once I walk away from here, the thought of you will continue to haunt every step of my life. Only worse, there would be no possibility of ever seeing you again.
There is no freedom from you in this world. Miles away, everything still reminds me of you. There is no killing you.
So I looked into your eyes, one last time, as I drew the blade through my throat.

her skin shone like moonstone
as if the universe she held
was able to illuminate her
bedroom as she stood before me.
for so long she was nothing
but a daydream. an unexplored
option that I was too nervous
to venture to. but the way her
hands held mine and how sweet
the *** tasted when it sat on
her lips intoxicated me. I had
to touch her face to assure myself
that she is in fact real. that it
was really her navy blue eyes
that begged me to give in.
she was the most beautiful being
and she was just against my
fingertips. she held my heart
between her teeth, holding
the power to devastate me.
what was there to be afraid of?

I don't know whether it was a veil of one a.m. or the double vision induced by ***, the strong grasp of gravity or the coursing wave alcohol.
Probably all of the above.

I found myself strayed from the group, walking along the edge of the river. The rocks were not friendly to my fawn-like knees. It was the first week of September, the fall just dipping its toes into the normal 90 degree routine.

My cousin, Cameron, had decided to throw a party for the end of summer, before everyone went their separate ways for school. I was about to start my freshman year at Arkansas. It was a new place, new school, new people. No one else from my high school had decided to go there and in the beginning, the school sounded perfect. Away from everyone, starting anew. But to be honest, I was scared.

The bonfire was no one to be seen and I had come to the conclusion that I was, in fact, lost.  All I knew was that my temporary vertigo was about to get the best of me. I fell onto my knees, the *** previously consumed expelled out of my body. There was so much ***.

Once the vomiting ceased, I rolled over onto my back.

I remember that it hurt. Everything hurt. And with no control, I burst into tears. Curled into the fetal position, I cried, chest aching, stomach churning.

I let myself feel so alone. And I was alone, I always have been. I just never let myself acknowledge it because then that would be all I would ever think about.

No matter how many people promise friendship and loyalty, I will always find myself crying alone in the middle of the night. I have learned that I cannot force love out of someone incapable of emotion. That sometimes circumstance tears those away from you. And then there are those that have been with you for what has seemed like forever that just decide they no longer want you.

I was crying because I couldn't do anything about it. I can't make them stay. I only have myself.

And I do not make good company.

held between fingertips, the sand sinks
through the cracks, funneling till absent.
but I can still feel the rush of grain,
the colliding of corners and burning
friction. I can still feel the weight,
the obligation of its existence
long after it retreated into the abyss.
I lit the last match just to watch it
burn. the last hopes escaping into the
air, never to comeback. a chemical change
cannot be undone. a chemical imbalance
they told me. the happiness disappeared,
only with blue and yellow lights to
dance around my frontal lobes. physically
incapable of joy, I sit here, watching the
old memories fade, replaced by darkness
I, here, holding the ashes.

"to love is a dare
when hope and despair,
are gates upon it hinges."*

-Lang Leav

retract the roots restricting my lungs.
you despise how I can still breathe
without you standing next to me,
holding the bones you have undone.

there is power in destruction
and intentions in your lies,
disdain glowing in your eyes,
of illusion’s interruption.

why won’t you just pull the knife?
why would you just end this life?
you could watch as I bleed out,
as I give all I have to give
one last time.

fallen leaves crunching under the weight of each step. i was accompanied by no one, but i was not alone. chorus of chirps and the rustle of the squirrels scurrying from one tree to another flowed melodically through the empty spaces, bringing life once again. despite, the chill of autumn air, the warmth grew inside of me. to be interconnected in this godly setting.

I am not afraid of the night; I am afraid of its obligations. That tight fist of knowing that I could not have been born this way. For every fear there is said to be a triggering effect, someone holding the gun saying, ‘this may be my fault, but it’s still your story.’ A fear of sleep is a fear of losing control. In my hometown, there was a boy up my street that knew every part of you is a mouth. Look at you, how open you are. How your body can only say ‘yes’ to me. Look how your fight forgot you. I can never land a punch in my dreams, never can rip my attacker apart, nail by nail and see how helpless that house was. I’m not a fair fight, I don’t know a lot of words,  I don’t know how to say I slept with every man after you and woke up on fire. I don’t want to say everyone in my dreams is born out of you. I don’t know how to say you cannot have me. Not now. Not again. Don’t sleep by yourself. There must be some part of you that doesn’t trust the rest of you. Try to find someone who don’t want to gouge out her eyes just to make sense of the dark. This was never about finding a savior to share the bed with.

I am not lonely. I am not the weak calling my sickness the tyranny. What I feel is what I can’t hold, what I would win the world for.

the red that you spilt all over me
left to wash, rinse, and ultimately repeat.
you played Brand New on the ride home
as the streets collected row by row.

your touch feels so good,
and your words taste divine.
but the touch that was so good
will leave me in due time.

you’re a daydream that doesn’t sit so sweet.
you’re the dark edges bumped in midnight streets.
we’re in your car but I still feel so alone,
counting the streets that go past, row by row.

big blue eyes of innocence

naïve in her five years of existence

calls out for daddy, for daddy to come

around 9 o'clock at night.

he enters the room, unsurprised,

this has become ritual.

check the closet, under the bed

for the creatures of the night.

kiss her head and tuck her in

then turn off the lights.

how beautiful this scenery was,

the innocence of it all.

a father's assurance was enough

to comfort her troubled mind.

the pure and unfailing trust

that everything will be alright.

but as the years passed

her faith began to weaken.

taking off the rosy shades

blindsided by reality.

through the pain and sorrow

she came to learn

the monsters do not live

underneath the beds

but in herself.

and with each saw of the blade

daddy's little girl fought those monsters.

big blue eyes of innocence

naïve in her five years of existence

calls out for daddy, for daddy to come

around 9 o'clock at night.

he enters the room, unsurprised,

this has become ritual.

check the closet, under the bed

for the creatures of the night.

kiss her head and tuck her in

then turn off the lights.

how beautiful this scenery was,

the innocence of it all.

a father's assurance was enough

to comfort her troubled mind.

the pure and unfailing trust

that everything will be alright.

but as the years passed

her faith began to weaken.

taking off the rosy shades

blindsided by reality.

through the pain and sorrow

she came to learn

the monsters do not live

underneath the beds

but in herself.

and with each saw of the blade

daddy's little girl fought those monsters.

it was not in the high E's or the low G's
stretched across the wire string,
not in the fluid movement of dance
crowding the open spaces.
not in the light laughter or
in the simple words coming from
simple mouths with simple, detached
minds. not in the meaningless touch
of the stranger next to me
or in the breath burning my neck.

we made beauty out of silence
appreciated the smooth ring of emptiness,
the raw obligation of space.
the thousand words of a glance,
the gentle touch of your eyes.
the immaculate hold of tears
and uncomfortable truths.
the shelter in sleepless nights
and the strength of withdrawals.
the few moments of being with
the one that defines your life
is the beauty I have seen.

may the taste of blood remind you
of the damage that you have caused.
of the trail of gleaming galaxies
peaking from under my skin.

casting me away does not hide
the havoc you have wreaked inside,
the house you tore down from the bone,
that we had built with our own hands.


you tear me down by my methods
but I am only trying to
salvage a life after knowing you.

may the taste of blood remind you
that you were the first one that drew.

"it is better to have loved
and lost" as they would like to say
but no wise words can stop the ache
this aggravating pain.

to not have loved would be to not have known
what could be taken away.
not to long for his movement, his touch
the smile that spreads across his face.

"it is better to have loved and lost"
but i have lost everything.
except his picture in my mind
that visits in my dreams.

I thought he was mine.
I was so stupid,
I thought he was mine
When he held my sleeping body,
When he swept my hair and kissed my forehead.
I thought he was mine
When we ran away to cemeteries
And watched the stars until
Our eyes were no match for sleep.
I thought he was mine
When I realized I was falling for my best friend,
For someone who took the time
To peel away the bark to see what
Was living beneath the exterior.

You told me we needed space
You told me that you couldn't do this
And I didn't worry,
You would come back to me.
You had to because
You are mine and I am yours
But it's been two years
Since you left me here, exposed.