I miss the way your body molded around me under the covers and how your skin gently kissed mine. Your soft breathing rustling across my skin, singing me to sleep. I miss the gentle snores after you had floated into sleep, your arm tucked over and under me. I miss the way you would twitch in your sleep, notifying me of a night terror. I miss the way your snoring would ensue with a hand on your head and a kiss on the cheek. I miss the way your eyes would meet mine in the morning, with a faint smile as your hand rose to my face. How gingerly your lips met mine. How caring your handling was, as if I was porcelain and you were rock. I miss the way your hand found mine, almost as if by accident, as we walked side by side. I miss the way your body would find a spot in my arms so perfectly, and how you rested against me with repose. I miss how your voice would raise in pitch when you were excited, and your eyes would gleam brighter than normal. I miss the surprise visits and the way you looked at me. I miss seeing you every day. I miss the harshness of your words as they rolled across your tongue and spilled over the ridge of your lips. I miss all of your broken promises and somber apologies. I miss the rage. My heart has been mutilated by so many others, yet still beats the strongest when my eyes graze across your image.

Masks is all I've ever known. All i thought i knew was camouflaged by the complacent world around me. I grew with a fool's sight and an idiot's judgement. I learned eventually, that everyone gets to make their own mask.  You knew how to pull mine away from my skin for moments that seemed to stand still, lacking oxygen. I got defensive at the fact that your mask was so thick, and seemed to be sewn into your cheeks. I never even got to see you remove the mask before the tides yanked me into the storm of insanity. My heart slows at the sight of the empty roads, they remind me of the look in your eyes the night you told me I wasn't worth the trouble. I'm galaxies away from a place to call home. The dark sky mocks me in a way I never thought so heart wrenching.  The lights don't comfort me like they did before your eyes grazed across my skin. It wasn't until you left I realized you were using bullets instead of kisses. And my shell shock still persists. I have gun shells lodged in my skin. Your subliminal phrases struck glass into my mouth like lightning, which runs like tornadoes through my lungs. When I breathe out, all that escapes is you. I thought I was tough using your words as armor, i was convinced that that is what tough was. I didn't let anyone remove the metal from my chest, and no one gained access to the tender parts of my body. I believed in my heart that I was protecting myself, building an imaginary shield. Encasing myself in fear and caution.  But now I can see the glass in my lungs was only smoke from the cigarettes I held onto late at night, a substitute for your hand in mine. The artillery living inside my skin was just purple scars and it wasn't shock, it was highly dilated pain. Heart stopping, ***** inducing pain. And it wasn't going to go away. Because if I'm using my pain as armor, when can happiness ever replace that?

I sit in here in my window seal half naked, with my window open and the smell of freshly soaked grass wafting in with the flashing lights of the sky.

At this point in my life, i dont know what the hell is going on. Im trapped between the walls of my heart and the confines of my mind.
I am the once solid foundation of your home, after the earthquake shook your house to tears.

I am the once smiling face, after your lover left.

My heart, once beating strongly and lightly, now pouts, cold and hardened, next to my once healthy lungs.

No words can bring the soul back into my eyes, nor can any kiss bring the color back into my cheeks.

My hands cant hold him anymore, for they seem to only shake and become numb.

My mouth is no longer capable of forming soft gentle words, only harsh and savage, broken phrases pass over the cusp of my lips.

My mind finds no comfort in the things once enjoyed by my being, accompanied by the music of my laughter echoing through the corridors of a once happy home.

My legs no longer know where they are pushing me, my feet are unsure of where to step.


People say that no one is lost.




But could you tell me where i am?

And i miss you. You tore a rip clean around my heart. And after several months of ignoring me, the stitches i made could be taken out to reveal the nasty scars. The broken thing inside of me seemed to be breathing properly, and on your birthday you forgot who i was. A knife sliced through the scars, disrupting already damaged tissues. Never before had i remembered hate being a comfortable feeling. Hurt, ached inside of every cell. Birthdays seem to be a trap for us. You left me on mine. You forgot about me on yours. Another couple of months went by, you forgot about me even more. I tried to forget and move on. My hope failed me again. I stayed awake that night, until the sun rose on my sorrow. Funny how a sunrise can give you such a sinking feeling. I cried, hoping the tears would swell me to sleep, they just made the pain seep into my face and my collar bones. I thought about you that night, wondered if you were alone with your thoughts again, letting the back of your eyes rot with the white of the ceiling in your room. Or were you out in a darker place, getting high as your heart continued to suffocate? When they told me about what had really happened between you and them, everything connected. And unlike how i found out you had crawled back to her and she denied you made me happy, this only made things immensely worse. It was largely the fact that i gave you every part of me, salvaged all the small pieces and bundled them for you. You treated me like an object instead of human and i was too in love with you to realize it. But the thing is you can't walk around hurting people every chance you get. You asked her why she didn't care, well what about you? How could you dispose of me so quickly and in a rush as if you had committed a crime? For a time rage consumed me. Washed over me like running water. I wanted to tear you down and watch you disintegrate into a lake of sadness. Every other person in my life knew there was a million reasons for me to leave you. No one cared to save me. It showed me that no one is gonna be there when you're drowning in corrupted love. But i have always wanted to save you from the destruction coursing through your soul. I always wrote about burning the sentiments you gave me and collecting the ashes in a jar as a gift to you. And the twisted part of me figured that as much dust as i collect, equally would be your sorrow. I had only wished for you to stop breathing in so much dust. My mind seemed to go through a fluctuation between hate and misery. There was never an in between. I wished for you to stop cupping your hands to catch my tears so you could wash away your grief. When dejection turned into loathing you made me hurt other people. You lit matches for me to burn bridges and gave me a sledgehammer to destroy homes of happiness. Eventually the chaos got back to me and i ended up eroding myself. I convinced myself i was to put myself in danger to feel alive. Well the opposite occurred and i started dreaming about you. I dreamt of your smile, your laugh, your eyes, with an illuminating spark to them. Waking up was like realizing i had been buried alive in a small coffin, and I'm sure you don't remember how claustrophobic i am.  The fourth night dreaming about you, i turned into the living dead. I slowly melted into a shadow, still frames of you glued into the creases of my mind. Soon enough only wishes swept through my mind. I asked a god for some sort of baptism, and it never came and any form of faith diminished from my eyes. How could one person instill so much pain?

Come child,
Wash those cobwebs from your eyes,
let not that sadness clutter your vision.
I know your mistakes and faults keep you up,
wrap them away, your silk thoughts, and bury them
within you.
We all know misery thrives on sorrow,
and infected hands handle peace.
I see the black veins in your gaunt hands,
and soon we will all know ,
the messenger of mercy, is the heart-
becoming silent, only speaking with a language of tears.
And not even you my dear,
can escape from the sticky entanglement
that murders beauty and passion.

The violet sky stood bashful against the dimming horizon. Stark trees sprang from the ground, flourishing in dots midst the blushing stars.

Street lights flicker on, reminding me of how mom didn't have to yell for me to come home, the lights whispered it to me, carried in the caressing breeze.

I'm reminded in the spring, of the day me and my friend ran into the pelting rain and jumped through puddles, soaking our bodies in high pitched laughter and impending colds.

I'm always reminded in the summer months, how everyone including myself, preferred water from the hose over water from the tap. Or how we'd run rampant through the field behind my house, screaming against the heat.

The broken sidewalk reminds me of the time when we all thought we were cool for trying to smoke cigarettes we stole from our parents.

I fell in love with patches of clovers more than that of a boy's selfish smile. I was more in love with the act of collecting lady bugs as pets rather than holding a hand pushed into mud.

I preferred shallow swimming pools over the small voice of a boy asking me if i had other friends like them. Or how the beam of the sun was better than the beam of a slender, pale face with blue eyes.

Blind and innocent children, we fell in love with things we could touch or splash in. We fell in love with the beautiful colors and characters in our favorite Saturday morning cartoons. When we weren't playing cops and robbers, we were lost in a world of SEGA and Super Nintendo 64. We were infatuated with a world that never altered, but our vision cleared of.

We were saturated in a time where our only big worry was making sure we got our recess time. And when the smog cleared we realized our biggest worry was making our parents proud.
And it seems that it should be the other way. We should be proud of the kid our parents raised.
But ultimately, the monsters under our beds became the demons in our heads.
And the kid your parents raised
slowly became the kid you wish your parents never had.

There won't be a day in my life where i wish i could fall in love with the sound of an ice cream truck, or the animals at the end of my bed again.

I fell in love with a boy by the bayside whose mouth tasted like sour apples in a way i never thought so beautiful. And I'm sorry it was never you, you always tasted bitter and burned. But there's something you need to understand,that my existence has wracking side effects and scars on my skin are only a classroom of pain. Your tears always found a way in, and leaked onto my heart, playing a sad song about wishing wells and shooting stars and formed words on my tongue like four leaf clovers. And you still haven't apologized for emptying my lake of happiness and replacing it with rocks of sadness and filling my pockets with pebbles. A man once told me that anyone good for me would never hurt me. And i suddenly forgot that, when your eyes turned to icy corridors and your hands, tightened leather. I only wanted to melt away the emptiness in your irises and break away from the distraught grip. But didn't anyone ever tell you can't just set thing on fire because you like to watch ash float in the wind? You were always so wreckless. With my bleeding heart in your hands all you could mutter was, "I made a mess." All you could do was walk away with clenched fists leaving me on the ground trying to pick up shards of glass, ribbons of tears, and pieces of the moon; essentially you left me to salvage the pieces of myself. The truth is, you left me there in the dark. And i haven't emerged.