When you pop into my head, things get blurry.
Sometimes I feel as though you’re an unwanted guest in my mind.
Other times I welcome you with open arms.
This is because I have yet to figure you out.
Or at least that’s what I tell myself.
I know deep down what you want from me, but I tell myself there’s more to it.
So I keep holding on, waiting for that stream of light to pierce through my skull.
I never give up anymore.
That way, no matter the outcome,
I never really lose.
I live with purpose, not regrets.

Through cracked lips, he told me I wasn’t good enough.

And I believed him.

My heart froze as I watched the cold breath leave his mouth.

My body felt empty in the wake of his storm.

Little did I know,

I was too good
to waste my love
hanging onto
a broken boy.

Why do I give you the power to destroy me?

I’ve cried over you too many times.

I just hope you’ve had some sleepless nights as well.

I vow to myself,

That night

Was the last time

I let you

Touch my skin.

You left me speechless in your wake.
So the only words that come out land on this page.
Our story lives on in a distant memory.

I’ve learned the hard way that
Nothing is permanent in my life
Except for the ink etched in my skin.

Sixteen.
Destined by your own delicate hands to never
grow old. Long dark brown hair that was often swooped
effortlessly into a ballerina bun. Permanently
sun kissed skin.
Always light
on your toes, as though you pirouetted through life.  
Forever innocent.
A mind so brilliant, so beyond
your limits.
You were my
best friend. Sisters, we would say.
Ever since the second grade, we were undoubtedly,
firmly codependent on one another.
How?
I ask myself,
did I let you fall so simply?
Angelic in life and
whatever may come after.
But for four years now, I’ve foraged in the depths of
my mind, hoping to find an explanation for why
this happened.
Why do these horrible things happen
to us?
You unknowingly taught me that those we love the most
are the ones who leave the deepest scars.
I had spent a long time
hating you.
Hating you for doing
what you did;
how you left us here.
But how can I hate someone who was so
broken inside?
I can’t.
I hate myself,
for only seeing the
perfect, porcelain twirling doll that I put
up on my mantel.
And when that delicate doll fell,
the only one to blame
was fate.

I’m not okay.
I pretend it doesn’t hurt anymore,
But the truth is I just pushed it down.
The ache in my gut went numb.
But just hearing your name,
Makes my heart break all over again.
I wish this pain would stop.

Sometimes I sit alone.
And I wish that I could cry.

Maybe then I can drain the part of you that lingers in my head.

But all I feel is empty.

Your love filled me up.
And now that you’re gone
I feel like The Sahara.

A desolate wasteland.

in·san·i·ty
inˈsanədē/noun

Giving you my heart, over and over again, expecting you won’t drop it like you’ve done every time.
“I did this to myself.”

It’s hard to put into words,
How incredibly alone I feel.

Empty inside.

It seems as though everyone else is moving forward,
And I’m stuck.

Frozen in a time,
When there was you and I.

But now there’s just me.
Only me.

My insides are splitting me apart
like shards of glass in my heart.

How can I still paint you in a shining light?
When your wrongs can never be made right.

I pray
you spend
the rest of your life
searching for
the taste of my lips.

In one night stands.
Through I love you’s.
Under promises made.
Next to secrets kept.

But your efforts
will be in vain.
For nothing
could ever substitute
the love I gave to you.

You let it slip by
without blinking an eye.
And now you will never discover
an equivalent lover.

I get those 4 letter words confused.

One is selflessness.
Not wanting to hang up on those late night calls.
The yearning for the others presence.
Wanting to be better, for them.

The other is selfishness.
3am texts.
The need for a temporary high.
Wanting to pretend he cares.

But how do I mix the two?

Well, because of you.

Love or Lust?
I wish I knew which feeling to trust.

Mosaic tiles
make up pieces
of my broken heart.

I long for the one
who won’t see me as a project
but as a piece of art.

Sticks and stones may break my bones.
But your words will forever haunt me.

You have so much self control when it comes to not choosing me.
And so little when it comes to using me.

Your eyes gleamed with the ghosts of the past.
Your smile could warm the coldest heart.

But I knew this would never last.
We always end up apart.

We started driving down that road too fast.
The intensity was a work of art.

But the devastation of us is something we couldn’t outlast.
We were doomed to crash from the start.