I wanted to apologize in advance for the heartache i left at your doorstep. Please appreciate the beautiful wrapping, for appearance and pretense, which are essentially the same, do take effort. I rang the doorbell twice, and dug the knife in deep. Not necessarily because I wanted to wound you, but mostly because I wanted understand your depths. I wanted to know how far i could sink in.

I forced my way into your thoughts. You didn't invite me in but once i reached the inside of your fascinating head i ran wild, leaving scars on your vulnerable brain as I pleased. I spray painted graffiti on the left brain, carved my initials into the right. I hoped that as the years pass by and the trees do their seasonal dance, you'd run into those scars and I'd force my way into your thoughts once again. Or at least that's what i had planned.

And I'm sorry for making you my voodoo doll. By hurting you i was hoping that i too would feel some sort of agony ,but i think that my heart's ice covering has made it numb to this kind of pain.

I was trying to undo your knots, so maybe mine would fall apart as well. I was hoping that we were two strings intertwined. As the strings separated I realized that they weren't nearly as beautiful, so I backed away pitifully. My knots were tighter than ever, and looking at yours hurt. I'm sorry I ruined your mess. It was all so intentional.

It was because I loved the way I looked in your eyes. They were a mirror I could finally bear to see myself in. But you have to understand that I didn't want to love myself. So i had to make it so i wasn't able to peer up at your irises anymore. Only at the ground as a mumbled my inadequate goodbyes.

I needed you to be a reason to write a love poem, but you turned into another apology, I'm sorry. I wish I would've loved you.

There were times when my heart beat fast. Hypersonic. Like it needed to pump blood through the tangles of veins for the both of us while we focused on one another. It wanted to keep us alive so that we could experience this for as long as possible.

I put you in my mouth. I felt you on my teeth. Then I chewed you up until I became sick of your flavor. Once sweet, the taste of you now nauseates me. This is me spitting you out. Whether bubble gum or boy, neither are meant to last forever. Have I punctured you yet? Is the ice building in your veins? I cannot help trying to hurt you, its an intuitive source of pleasure that can only come from the dark insides that bark through their muzzle.

I felt like a child again as I toyed with your emotions, but as always, games grow tiresome, and I wanted a new doll to run my fingers against. I wanted to create a new story.

I haven't ended it yet. We're in our telescope phase. I'm looking for reasons to leave and you're looking for reasons to make me stay. We both know the latter is much more difficult to decipher in the night sky. Yet we continue our search, destined for the inevitable, but pretending to be oblivious. Slaves to what must be, but patrons of what could be.

I was one of those girls who thought about death a lot and you were one of those boys with balloon lightness, which made you endlessly appealing. I grabbed on to you hoping that you would bring me up with you, but we could not defy the laws of physics set out for us. You could not bring me up, I could only weigh you down. So i set you free, and watched as you floated gracefully away, becoming smaller and smaller.The image is still clear, and the scar still stings when I think about how it felt to no longer be able to see you, and that the fault was all mine. Because I had an agenda for breaking hearts.

But don't pretend like you didnt love your puppeteer. You wanted to be controlled. you wanted something to hate. Because people want something to hate just as much as they want something to love. Because everything is the same. Once you realize the uniformness of the world, you realize why we wear our irises and we convince our brains that everything is, in fact, different. And we decide some things are to be loved and some things are to be hated. But what specifies these things from one another? What is the difference? A world where young children scream at the sight of a flower, and destroy it with their boots until they are sure it is dead? A world where a suitor gives a beautiful woman a bouquet of spiders to show his affection, and she blushes and says that they're beautiful. What is the difference between this world and ours?  Essentially, nothing. We have chosen to love one thing and hate the other and it is complete chance. So when you say you love me, I am offended.

And when you say you hate me, I smile.

Since we were born we are given these ideas of how the world is supposed to be

I always thought I couldn't be beautiful because I wasn't blonde, I didn't have blue eyes, I wasn't good enough and you didn't understand.

and I paint these words and see how they turn out, but when I read them back I can't help but think there's got to be a better way to get my point across.

If only we didn't have these eyes that mislead us to thinking the outside mirrors the inside

Maybe if we didn't have these ears that allow us to listen to the lies spewed from the mouths of those are are stained and damaged, trying to pull others down to their depths

Perhaps if we didn't have these tongues, we wouldn't have to taste one another, and become hooked on the expelling lust that causes us to do things we can't believe

Could it be that if we didn't have our hands, we would have to accept everything we couldn't touch? and we couldn't write these poems but instead we could feel them inside us, like blood keeping us alive

My heart is ear-splittingly screaming but my voice remains a painful silent. The disparity between the two bickering halves leads me to a final inquisition,

darling do you think it's conceivable that if we couldn't talk, we wouldn't have to? do you think you'd hear it all?

I can't recall a time when I wasn't trying to be your perfect girl; earth's dazzling creation  
I'd have you at hello, overflowing with infatuation
but this wouldn't fade away, it's an everlasting fixation
and I'd soak up your all love, praise, and abiding adoration.  
Write about me honey, I'll be your inspiration
It's just something about you, hard to compose an explanation
for why you leave me feeling dizzy, and my thoughts in aberration.
Oh I how I'd love you to bits, beyond any mind's imagination
but this is not the case, you see there's just one altercation,
I am not your perfect girl, no,  I don't swell you with elation.
I burn with jealousy of she who does, my heart weak with desolation.
Wish I could enliven you, wish I could set your soul to conflagration  
but no, i have no spark, i can't give you that sensation.
Sure you know i'll try, i'll woo you with flirtation,
but you'll give up soon enough, once i lose your fascination.
It's not long before my lukewarm love will reach its expiration.
My heart sinks thinking of the fateful words, the final conversation
shaken my palms and sodden my eyes, admitting devastation
my heart sagging lower yet, blaming you, departed dear, for its dislocation.
I'll miss your eyes that blaze sweet, my own personal constellation
even your flaws, i'll miss them too, because of their association
to the thief who stole my blissful blindness to delightful intoxication
and made me think these things would last, with steadfast stone duration.
But you left like all the others had, there must be some correlation
for why my love lays abandoned, and my heart in isolation
it must be me, I'm the problem, it's my own malicious mutation
that repels love from embracing me and allowing for sweet vacation.
I wanted to warn the masses, so i give you this proclamation:
don't dare fool me with your words, because given this deformation,
I know you will leave me so empty, but somehow full of deprivation.
Oh my poor soul, I can't cure you with apologies, so if its any consolation
I've shared my affliction with the world, through this aching manifestation.

I'm sorry I'm so boring, I'm just too empty today.

my colors are grey and my blood has long been drained out and replaced with a black muck that makes it hard to move much less try to be charming. I've got cinder block shoes and a matching stone sweater which weigh me down as i trek through the empty land masses, trying to find you. I wear my smile mask in hopes of coming across as someone you might want to talk to or be friends with, but it makes it so hard to breathe and taking it off means someone might be able to undo the laces on my cinder block shoes, or unbutton my stone sweater, or kiss my hardend lips softly but passionately enough to set off a series of tingles that make the guck in my veins turn back into glowing crimson blood, filling me in a way i'm not sure how to deal with. And that's terrifying. Because once all of my armor is taken away, my poor hero is left only with my cracked, scarred, and stained body that was ruined by years of torture from wearing my burdensome ensemble.

I'm sorry i can't be perfect for you, I'm just too broken today.

Why is my heart so heavy for no reason at all?
Was it made like this? Am i destined to fall?
Who is this pushing me down when i try to soar past,
the agony in my heart that appears ever thriving and vast?
It's always raining on the inside, and now it seems that i'm flooding
the feelings so sad, the words are so cutting
I've learned how to swim, but my arms are getting tired
and i'm losing all hope, I've become uninspired
Someone please, come sever the cinder blocks of self-pity that are tied to my feet
before i drown in this dismal downpour, dragged down by a heart of concrete
Oh no the flood, it's pouring out of my eyes
Who is that there? Can't you hear my cries?
The tears fall and they fall, they stream down my face
I ask them what's the hurry? is this some kind of race?
Don't worry tears, there's plenty of time to cry
when you're so overwhelmingly sad, **and you don't know why.

I'm a bright blue box with a bitter black inside.

I screamed 'open me! open me!' to those who had tried.

As they peek in it takes their breath away,

how broken and sad before them i lay.

Shuttering and sobbing, i scream out: close the box!

because i know no one can undo my sad twisted knots.

shame on me for trying, who could ever care?

I wanted to be happy, but i doubt I'll make it there.

My inside grows darker, my dreams more disturbed,

but the outside still gleams blue, fake, unperturbed.

My dark insides take over, I can't turn it off

I'm trying, I'm trying, but the voices just scoff.

Happy? Loved? You? You've got to be kidding.

These things are reserved for light, your darkness is forbidding.

Close your eyes babe, and try to make it through

while your dark dark insides utterly consume you.

So come on, sit down. Make yourself at home.

Let the voices talk, let your mind roam.

Because you're trapped here darling, inside this blue box

no keys have the power to undo your locks.

Your blue box is shut. Seal it off, seal it tight.

It's simple, you just have no hope to ever see light.

The people, they leave. They don't understand.

Each time they go, unable to withstand.

You're a being of sadness, disguised as a girl

come on, fake a smile, let your lips curl.

Yes, cut yourself off, you little blue box.

Make yourself tough, a foundation of rocks.

Because not feeling anything, nothing at all,

is the sure-fire way to make certain you don't fall.