I feel like I keep getting younger as I keep making the same mistakes.
I feel like a child that has just fallen on the concrete.
Everything stings and my only solution is to cry.
I make the same mistakes too often to be regarded as mature.
So why do people keep handing me problems I can't solve.
Can't they see I am like a child?

I wanted to be there when you needed me
But you used me
I wanted to hold you when someone hurt you
But you hurt me
I wanted to lie next to you
But you lied to me
I wanted to be someone you could miss
But you didn't miss when you hit me...
...And you hit me hard

I still miss having something but I do not miss having you

Not even my hands are as cold as your personality and not even my heart is as empty as your head.

I still love you but I don't want to kiss you.
I want to hold you when no one else will.
I want to hold you when you're crying
I want you to know I'd do anything for you.

I still think about you but I don't think about us.
I want to think about helping you when you're hurt
I want to think about helping each other find the one
I want you to know I'd help you think through any of your thoughts

I still love you but I am no longer in love with you.

I used to care so **** much about you that I could not stand myself.
I handed every piece of myself over to your shallow being
I gave you my smile
I gave you my kindness
I gave you my laugh
I gave you my voice
But you did not deserve one part of me
I watched as everything I gave to you was thrown away
I cannot take back my smile
I cannot take back my kindness
I cannot take back my laugh
I cannot take back my voice
Once something has been thrown away, it is of no use anymore.

But with what I have left of myself, I can rebuild a different smile. A smile that is only flashed at beings who deserve it. A different kindness. One that is only given to beings who are worth being kind to. A different laugh. A laugh that I will only award if it is made of pure joy. And a different voice. A voice that does not waste words on beings who do not listen.

Slowly I will have a new me.

Your door was open.
I sprinted towards it.
Tripping on my own enthusiasm, I fell to the ground before your feet.
However, she had beat me to your door.
It was slammed before my face.
I rattled it but it could not be opened.
It was locked.

The door was attached to a room.
A room with windows.
I could see you but you could not see me.
You were too distracted by her.

The seasons changed and coldness embraced me as I watched your happiness blossom.
Every smile and laugh shared pierced my selfish heart.
It was torture to watch from the outside.

One night you looked out the window and you saw me.
Instantly the glass shattered.
Violently, it tore apart my body as it flew in all directions.

I was finally free to go to you.
Not through your door; but around it.
As soon as I crossed the border my mangled body was finished in a final blow.

It hurt me that much more to be so close to you yet so far because she was still there.
And there she will remain.
I will continue to slowly die on the floor.
Because your smile feeds me and every glance in my direction puts air into my lungs.
But her smile starves me and every glare from her suffocates me.

She has every right to hate me.
I wasn't made to be a doorstop. I was made to walk through someone else's door.  
Anyone else but his.