can't say if this silence is better than words that hurt
at least then I knew where I stood with myself
now whenever I speak i'm not sure exactly
what's going to come out of these lips
because it transforms somewhere between my head
and the fact that I can't connect with my heart anymore
I hear sounds but where's my voice
I think I've figured out what it's like to be lost

this silence could pass for serenity but i'm tired of that
you know I always thought I could pass for happy
watch it because lying to yourself is pretty tricky
I swear the ground fell out from under my feet
and when I found myself I was staring into the eyes of a monster
and the monster was me
I've found you can run out of love and you can run out of life
when you're running away from it
you can run out of words when you're using them wrong
you can run out of songs when you never really listened
I've been running from darkness since I found out I'm full of it
It's really quiet
and I'm really lost

they say to be suspicious
when a naked man offers you a shirt but

how does that apply
when I love you so much
but I am empty

when I love you so much
does it matter that I feel nothing
for myself

does it matter that all I ever wanna do
is go to bed or talk to you

do I love you less
because I hate myself?

it's funny because heroes die for love
I mean, the characters in novels
and stuff but if I were to die

for you, that would be nothing,
zero, nada, zip;
I am proving my love

through every breath
that I take, darling;
you are what keeps me alive

and  I will not die for you
because you do not want me to

i am free to be me;
i want to ride a bicycle,
so i will: kick the pedal,
ride out to sea
i will listen to the
sound of the waves
and i will take it with me
in my pocket, pink slips
of seashell, grooved like
the sand i will
lie down in.
i will float in the sea -
no rope tied around
my waist or my neck
or my wrists attached
to an anchor, no
there's nothing to hold me
down; there's nothing
to hold me at all

i'm going to **** myself soon
because of how badly breaking hurts
and how lonely 'broken' feels
but sixty percent because lately

my sadness
is forming echoes in my bones
such that my broken pieces hit other hearts
before reflecting back to cut against me
scratched people are not art
and I don't want to hurt anybody

thank you for listening to my stories
and for never spelling out
that I was not in fact 'okay' even if you knew
i'd been crossing out the days really quickly

it was just what I needed
to have my delusions persuaded
my fears remain seated

because how can people not have breaking
points when water has a boiling point
and we are three-fourths that
I am three-fourths not
good enough

the decision had
long ago been made for me
i had stopped being happy
and it's been some time since I've prayed
because what can you do to fight fate
when they confiscated your weapons
they never returned them

I want to be whole, alone, a poem -
anything but broken,
but I am broken.
I am dying,
I am dead

If it takes a fool to fall in love
What kind of fool would I require
And who would take me
When I've fallen
A thousand times over
For boys who've never known me

If there is to be anyone
He would have to take tea, with me
At three in the morning
For no reason at all
Except I wanted to be awake
To hear the silence

If there is to be anyone
He would have to put up with
The fact of my poems
He'd have to breathe
In the air of my sadness
And accept that I cry every other night
And would sometimes ask him
Not to hold me

If there is to be anyone
I do not know
But that would be foolish indeed
Sometimes I would tell him I love him
Sometimes I wouldn't

But I would always be
Humming with the melody
I associate with him,
And the stars
Would litter the sky
Like they glitter on his skin.

in words, I find my truth
in words, I take refuge

there are tales I have to spin
to keep myself in orbit
songs I have to sing
to bring myself back

and life is difficult
every day ends
with me and a pen
the healing process
tend to myself

in the end, I've collected enough evidence
that words can sound like choking too
in the end, I am a testament
to how little crying can fix
you just learn
to turn to other things

in the end, I hope to have
three friends:
in the stars
in the spaces between
letters
in myself

My mind is active, weighing words
Movements stilled by my fingers
No time to write of being tired
To describe the ache, instead of wish it away
What a waste
No one listens in the first place

Gold at my fingertips from all the time I've spent digging
But everyone always sees the mud first
Frustrations building up until
I'm stuck in avoidance mode

Vanishing into pillows and behind books
And fake smiles, it's so hard to be true
Not worth the effort too
When no one really cares about you

It turns out I can't commit
And I can't take stress
I'd like to pack up my bags and leave
Everything difficult behind

I want to hide under the bed and wait
For someone to take
My troubles away.