I'm laying,
On the bathroom floor,
Wondering where you went.

I missed you,
But you came back to hurt me,
And I started to wonder,
If I was worth it.

I'm laying here,
On the bathroom floor,
Pounding about your thoughts.
Do you think of her?

Did you forget us,
And move in,
By falling in love,
With the first blonde?

I'm laying here,
On the bathroom floor,
Hoping you still remember me,
Remember I exist.

I need to stay Hugh,
Prove to the world I'm strong,
Tell them I'm okay,
I'm perfectly fine on my own.

But if all that was true,
Why would I,
Be lying on the bathroom floor,
Crying over you?

Let's talk about the letter x.
It's one of the weirdest letters we have in the English alphabet. It's a prized letter in the game of scrabble. It's a stumper for some kindergarteners who need to know that one word that starts with it to move up a grade. It's a symbol for a spot. Sometimes it's treasure, sometimes it's a target. Sometimes, it's a word. Sometimes it's a rating of a thrill or a cheap way to get off alone with some tissues. Sometimes it makes things extra small, and sometimes it makes them extra large. Or sometimes it's a way to describe someone.
Ex.
Like an ax to the wood we severed into thousand of splinters. I never thought I'd call you by that letter. I had a different future in mind. One with yellow green and white. One with your forehead pressed against mine as I pushed out creation. One with a chalk board wall full of poetry, lyrics, and sketches of light houses with suns rising in the background.
Now all I see is a big red x over all those dreams.
My treasure map is torn and burned and I can only see the target, but will never find the way to your heart again. My scrabble board is missing letters, and as I search for a way to forget them I keep putting down the letters to your name. I can't move on, like a child stuck behind their innocence and unable to comprehend what is next. I have to only imagine our bodies touching like those two thin lines on a paper. Intersecting like a comet to the atmosphere, colliding but burning up with terrible destruction.
My poetry doesn't have rhythm, and the rhyme has gone awry. All I keep seeing are ******* x's over every line I write. Because none of them put me and you and love together again.
The letter x is so strange. It's a weird thing we chose it to be a way to describe the end of something. One line going one way, the other a different way. But somewhere they meet and for the brief encounter there is hope that the lines will curve into love. But the lines have to move on, and so do we.

Dark.

Loving.

Depressed.

Shaded.

Black.
 
That's what I would use to describe her soul.

Her personality. 

Dark words,
Crossed out with red,
Red blood.

Her raven hair,
Shined.
But only,
Through darkest times.

Poison flowed,
Through her thin veins.
When cut,
She bled dark blood.

Her black wings,
Contrasted with her pale skin.
She lived and breathed,
The spirit of the dead.

Dark.

But she was beautiful.
So beautiful, she seemed fake.
Her love for me was undeniable/ unconditional.
Our feelings were mutual.

Her eyes only searched
For floating dead beings,
My face,
And my love.

We were opposites,
But that's what kept us closer than ever.

The kisses I leave across her body,
Are permanent in her head.
The words I whisper to her,
Are air to her delicate body.

Her eyes shine,
At my presence.
Darken,
At fake pleads.

Loving.

She is alone,
No family,
Except for me.
But she's what I need.

When she sings,
Her voice gets caught,
By the tears she refuses to let go.

When she sings,
She sings with symphonies,
A lullaby,
Referring to demise and love,
Which I realize is her one life.

Shaded.

A soul darker than night,
But only since she has a heart of a pessimist,
She can never find happiness,
Sometimes she can't with me.

She cries in her sleep,
Thinking no one can hear.
She wishes to forcefully bleed,
But I'm a wall standing between death and her

Dark.

I love her,
More than light,
But I only wish,
For her to be happy.

A beautiful face,
A black soul,
She is my,

Dark Angel.

It's so frustrating,
When I can reach you,
You aren't around,
But when I can't reach you,
You're begging for my attention.

The words were carved,
Into her dead back,
The blood so bright,
It could be seen from afar. 

Eyes wide open,
Red streaming down her face,
As if she were crying,
What was in left in her veins.

Another death threat,
Were staring at us in the face.
There was more to come,
Even after this gruesome tragic.

Her hands tied behind her back,
Body bare,
Ripped clothes strewn across the grass,
And a knife shone.

Contrast from silver to blood,
Her DNA splattered across the whole ground.

The darkness of the night,
Couldn't hide,
The ****** red body,
Freshly dead.

Scent of abuse
And a hint of scars,
She left the world in pain,
We could feel her spirit haunting the air.

Forced were the wounds,
On her back shaped like words,
"Until the blood has been bled,
I will be back, for the rest of my revenge"

I stand in the shower,
Addicted to the warm water,
Never wanting to leave,
Just like you.

I was so addicted,
To your smile,
I never wanted,
To let go.

I wait,
Feeling the droplets,
Of water,
Trail down my back,
Like your fingers.

You'd reassure me,
Grazing my body,
Telling me,
It'll be okay.

The soap,
Roams down my body,
Cleaning away the dirt,
But not our memories.

I want them to,
Because I miss you,
I need you,
Right now.

The tears,
Stream down my face,
But are disguised,
My the water.

The smell,
Of my shampoo,
Reminds me,
Of your cologne.

Why did I let you go?
I obviously miss you.
But you hurt me,
In a way I shouldn't forgive,
But I'm so ready,
To take it back.

I want you,
I need you,
I love you,
So much.

It hurts to know,
I let go,
Of the best thing,
That has ever happened,
To my life.


I still love you.