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I want it to be like it used to be.

Like it used to be before you kissed me on the front porch.
I'm not sure what triggered it but
you grew distant,
and I grew needy.

And now, here we are,
our short conversation last night our first in weeks,
with me blinking away tears,
and you,
apathetic,
smelling of jasmine
as if nothing were wrong.

You hold him as if to mock me.
Wait! I know it is not so.
I know you do not spite,
you do not stab with cold daggers,
you simply love and love
and I want some of your love for me.
I enjoy looking at flowers
and snorting oxy.

I like reading poetry
and getting into fights.

I'm different around you and I think I like that.
I'm more gentle, less accusatory.
I speak softer and with more love.
I'm waiting for you to fall in love with me
and I'm working on fixing myself.
I have to steady myself
when I think about your rough skin
worn with battle scars
and tattoos.

I bite my lip
at the thought of your thick eyeliner
around those eyes that are forever blue with youth.

My ears ring
with the longing to hear
that deceivingly young voice
with that funny crackle

I can't tear my eyes from you
as you roll
then light
a cigarette faster than I blink

My back arches
when I think of you
so often
in that way.

You are my life.
my universe.
my fantasy
my reality
my all and everything.

To you I'm an ant,
a petty pup to pet.

But I don't mind.

I don't mind how you smell of smoke
or that when you breath it out
my lungs disagree and cough.

I don't mind that you probably know how you effect me
and that your wish is my command
my heartache
and that if you look at me and say you want a change
I won't hesitate to cut it off
or starve
or drown
and blacken my lungs
I don't mind that you are a demon
I so happily let corrupt me.

I sigh so often at the thought of you.
Beautiful and deadly
grotesque and graceful
ashy like you crawled up from the depths below.

I admire how sick you are,
I lovingly dote on your whims
I worship you no matter what they say
no matter how dark you seem
no matter how I know it kills away what I once was.
but it doesn't matter
and I don't mind,
because you make me happy.
HB4
I guess you got tired of
the drugs
and the poor treatment
and the lack of responsibility
so you left.

I see you,
running with your new crowd.
We prefer shrooms,
so the feelings we experience can be stronger.
They prefer alcohol,
so they will not be held responsible for their actions.

That boy you're spending all your time with,
do you know what I heard him say?
In simple language,
without flashy adjectives,
I heard him announce that he got drunk,
but he made sure not get as drunk as her
so that she would do whatever he wanted.
I heard him,
through a closed bathroom door,
apologizing to a girl he had been rude to years ago,
but now she was hot,
so they should hangout.
I heard her exhale loudly
and watched her leave the bathroom.
She saw me and asked if I wanted to join her for a cigarette.

Looking back on it,
I wish you would join me.
For anything.

But you run with the self proclaimed nice guys
and I run with the equally as lame,
self proclaimed stoners.

I know this:
what goes around comes around.
The trespasses that I have committed unto others
have been committed unto me in equal measure
and I'm sure one day
those nice guys will get theirs,
and I only hope you
realize how to get yours
on your terms.
Everything about you is wonderful to me.
Everything.
I want to know everything about you,
I want to know what the kids called you in 4th grade on the playground
I want to know who your first boyfriend was and what your dad wanted to do when he broke your heart
I want to know who your favorite 80's synthopop band is
I want to know what you think of when you wake up at 4:26 in the morning with a stiff neck
I want to know what color you wish your softest skirt was
and I want to buy it for you.
I want to pick every single flower on earth and fill your arms with them.

I want to hear your voice when you're sick in bed
and I want to know what kind of tea to bring you
I want to know what movie you watch when you can't do it anymore
because that boy in your history class wouldn't stop calling you that word and ******* it you are not that word but this movie makes you feel better and it always has (it did in 4th grade when they called you that name on the playground)

I want to know which side of your face you prefer to have photographed
I want to know who you pray for
and if you think anybody is listening.

I want to know what your mother wanted to name you before your father convinced her otherwise because "Honey, do you really want our daughter to grow up being called that and have her know that we are responsible?"

I want to know if you like the feel of cold hardwood floor on your feet in the morning or the feel of carpet when you first take your rain boots and socks off after stomping puddles.

******* it, I want to know everything about you
so I can love every single one of those things with an intensity
the devout Christian envies.
where's
the fun
in being
vulnerable
if there's
no one there
to use you

what's
the point
of being
lonely
if there's
no other island
to cruise to
http://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Kübler-Ross_model
 May 2014 Becca Seyoum
Blurryface
I don't know why I read all these poems all they do is remind me of you and I hate that. Everyone understands me here and I don't know if that's good or bad. I feel for them and get it and want to help them because if I cant have it they should. I miss you and the poems make me wanna say to you but I still cant. The poems help me sleep at night. Sometimes. I wanna talk to you again even for a bit.The poems get that they get me the poems fill me with emotions I never knew could happen and they're all about you. The poems keep me breathing

-H.R.
thinking about him. again.
I want to rip apart my flesh,
burn myself until no pieces are left.

I want to pull all my hair at
and shove it down my throat
so I can finally get some sleep.

I want to die
and I want to sleep forever
and I want to not hurt
or be hurt
or hurt
or be hurt.

I want to bury my face in the ground
so I can never say evil things again.
I want to **** everybody around me
so I will never feel jealous again.

I want to drown the ******* stars
so no one will ever look at them again.
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