My heart had your name
written on it so clearly
but your heart
only had a small smudge
where my name should have been.

You can take your spiteful words
and shove them up your ***
when it comes to taking **** from you
Sorry, but I'll pass
because I've accepted hatred
and hurt, pain and depression
and i'm getting sick and tired
of writing poems as confessions.
So *******
I'm tired of your ****
my feelings are a fire
the flame has been lit.

Your memory is like a cigarette.

I lit the flame; got it burning with passion.

The smoke blurred my eyes.

All I can see is a grey foggy haze.

You were so beautiful through the light.

It burned and burned straight down to the filter.

But little did I know you weren't so beautiful past those days; and just like a cigarette, I was left unsatisfied.

the full moon taunts me from above
like a frightened cop's flashlight
blinding, ready to pounce
"alone again, are you?" the moon scoffs
"yes," I reply
"by choice?"
"I'm a bit worn down, moon, to tell you the truth. I don't know if I'm capable of going out and pretending to be something I'm not anymore. I'd rather be by myself, honestly"
the moon pauses
and pauses some more
before it speaks
"then you shall become like me. viewed from another world, trapped in plain sight. although some find you beautiful, they'll never be able to touch you, to know you. I was once like you before I ended up here. it gets cold. enjoy being in the light of others. you don't need to be anything you're not. I sometimes wish I was the sun but there are things we can't become"

despite everything
here we are
with a beautiful opportunity
to change what we don't like
about ourselves
sometimes we dwell
on what's been lost
we pass by
like shadowy dusk
unnoticed
but despite it all
we stumble forth
growing growing
growing

there is a noose hanging in my
throat
and when I try to tell you I love you
it tangles around the words and
I start to choke
so I keep my mouth shut

and this is not to say that I do not love you but
love doesn't feel like a blessing anymore,
it feels like guilt,
it feels like another promise that
I will not be able to keep, it feels like
an apology that my lips will never speak.

when I try to tell you I love you
I remind myself that
you don't want me to anymore,
remind myself that
this is not what you want to hear from me,
remind myself that
you will not say it back.

when I try to tell you I love you it is not because
I think you need to hear it,
it is because
I want to say it,
it is because
that word has been eating a hole in the pit of my stomach for
too long,
it is because when I
repeat a word too many times
it stops sounding like one
so I'm hoping that if I say it out loud it will
regain its meaning,
it is because I do not know if it's true and
I want you to tell me it is,
it is because I am
selfish
and this is entirely for my own
benefit and/or destruction

and I am sorry because
when I tell you I love you it will be
the last thing I say to you.