I've done things on my own
gotten to relearn pieces of me regrown
I'm still making up for the way things were
finding the girl I was when I was her
boy, do you miss me yet?
I'm making myself proud
I've found my voice, I'm getting loud
And I'm not quite there but I'm en route
haven't yet attained it but I'm in hot pursuit
boy, do you miss me yet?
and of all the pieces of you that fell away
the music we shared just seems to stay
it stays and stays, won't go away
it won't diminish, it won't decay
boy, do you miss me yet?
And just like I used to listen to you singing in your car
I can hear you forgetting me, tires kissing tar
it's been two solid years and I need to know
boy, will you ever let me go?

professor told me the chemicals and minerals in this paint could leach toxins into my skin if I let it stay on the surface there
but the way I see it I've picked my poison
either it's paint on my skin or you on my mind

Letting you go is made easier in knowing you're not the same person I let in

sometimes i think about you so hard that my head shakes
back and forth, "no"
disbelief that you're as perfect as i make you out to be
both our minds and hearts connected by strings
each time i tug away, you stand fast
and each time a vibration occurs along one of the strings,
i know you feel it too
i've gotten to know each piece of you, but not each part
the terrifyingly beautiful way your mind works,
but not your seemingly gentle, yet powerful body
see, i've gotten close, but not once close enough
i have this recurring dream of tugging at both of the strings
so forcefully that you'll spin towards me in a matter of seconds
such velocity will cause the strings to tangle with one another
and we will be forced face to face
to face something we've ignored since we found it
but for now, i miss you

i can find salvation in things other than god

thought i'd be fine to try it out,
but instead, i shut myself down
you took it all back and said it was a mistake,
but i know better than that-
nothing fake about it
and now i feel like everyone i never thought i'd relate to;
listening to songs i never thought would be about you
i always thought i'd be okay alone,
but what's worse is the thought of you
not being alone while i am

I need to break the trailhead and sweat the sadness through
the pores and holes and missing pieces of me that let it in for you
I'm forever shaking from exposure to the elements;
this irreversible coldness resulting from your negligence
I can't go on like this; so very different from who I used to be
I'm scared of who I will become if I don't soon recover the old me
I'm in search of steeper trails to bring me closer to
the clearer, blissful, happier me I was before my soul made room for you

I gave in to temptation and fell so far from grace
I've lost all innocents and shame
But that's the price you pay for love
It's sometimes so unjust and unkind
But the forbidden fruit
It always tastes so good
Well isnt it strange
How much we gain
From all the sadness and the pain

Writing is like talking to a beautiful woman. Pelt her with shoddy words and badly composed sentences and she slaps you and walks away. Splash her full of ink and you only get a cheap **** with ripped stockings and too many scratched out tattoo's.

But,

Caress her with your pen, stroke her with loving splendor, decorate her with words and sentences like sparkling diamonds and you have her attention. Use old pick up lines and you entertain her, for a while. Be yourself and speak from the soul and you entertain her for a life time.