a friend you used to know and a girl you used to admire
one in the same clung to memories of time with you
where conversations weren't left dead,
talk for hours, laugh until stomachs pained and eyes teared up,
while now those tears are not joy,
but a deep sorrow that scars brought on,
scars from things too terrible to put into words.
a girl you used to love and a person you used to care for
one in the same drew breath from reserves not her own
on borrowed time, she held tightly to you,
and although it hurt you to be there for her,
there was nothing else you could do but cling to the past
and she hated it
you hated it
your shared comfort in each other under uncomfortable sheets
shaking hands to skin,
tears as you ravaged each other,
just to destroy each other some more.
a person you used to comfort and now only a shadow
one in the same disappeared at some point
and you can't even remember when,
but you let her go,
and she let you go,
it left you both uneasy, but at least now you're both free
from the shackles of using each other
using bodies that barely fit together
souls too big for your selves
hoping it would be enough to rock against each other
using it as a crutch, a means of escape
freedom, you clutch it in closed fist
the uneasy of her unknowns, in an open hand.

If i were to disappear, would you look for me?
If i let my wings spread across the sky, would you follow me?
If my wounds were deep, would you tend to them?
Or, perhaps, would you turn away?
Would it be too much to bear, to witness, to lay your eyes upon?
If i were to begin running to the sea, would you run with me?
If i screamed into the nothing as loud as i could, would you scream with me?
If i asked you to love me with all your heart, would you love me?
Or, perhaps, would i not be the girl you were looking for?
Would it be too much to care so deeply, so tenderly, so fully?
Would it break my heart?
Or, perhaps, it would break yours?

people always represent love with roses
for the simple fact of a flower with thorns
because love can hurt.
there is yelling
and there is hurt
and there are times where all we do is cry
but i cry those tears for you,
and we apologise to each other (although too much)
and at the end of the day youre mine
and youre mine
and i would give the world to be nearer to you
in a heartbeat
i would give everything.
for you.

i had my heart broken
what felt like one too many times
in my short life on earth,
and although i resented those who broke it,
and resented myself more for allowing it all to happen,
over and over and over...
it was worth it
seeing as i have my love,
and he loves so hard,
and so fully,
and i feel it so deep within myself
it makes me cry.

it was all worth it to have you.

i am comforted by thoughts of him,
the fire inside my soul when he's on my mind
is far more comforting than i could have thought.
and the way these thoughts present themselves to me,
can be a lot to handle,
and i dip inside myself
and god do i wish it was him instead,
to lay over me
and share in this passion in togetherness,
rather than in two separate places,
alone.
and although poetic now,
the act of touching,
is almost entirely lacking
in poeticism.

tiny, she was 8 years old,
and she asked,
"do you hate me?
is the reason youre so cruel to yourself
because you hate me?
am i the reason youre so mean?
is this my fault?"
and i hugged her,
and i cried,
and i said "no.
i could never hate you.
it could never be your fault.
i didnt mean to make you think that it was."

if there's a space in front of me,
why not jump?
if there's a pen in front of me,
why not write?
if there's a rope in front of me,
why not pull?
if there's a note in front of you,
why not read?
...
and if your arms are open for me,
why
not
jump?