we all do it;

when we're in pain,
we listen to that song,
that makes our hearts mend.

when we're broken,
we cry,
until there is no more tears.

when we have no other way to express ourselves,
we put a razor blade to a skin,
and pray it will go a little deeper than planned.

when we wanna feel the beautiful numbness,
we stab needles,
with love potion,
into our veins,
waiting to feel no more pain.

and when we're heartbroken,
we smoke a lot of menthol cigarettes,
because she only smoked Marlboro.

(e.k.j.)

I can't stop thinking about you. I look in your direction and it physically pains me.
2. I burned poetry about you and her, the fact that I regard you the same way as her scares me. Something has changed.
3. I burn poetry as means of destroying myself.
4. Only I can destroy myself that way.
5. I miss you but I can't. Not today.
6. I'm gonna throw up because water has filled my lungs. Water has filled the space you used to.
7. Blood courses through and sometimes I wish it flowed out but *******. You made me stop.
8. Worthless. You told me I was not and now, that's how you make me feel.

Deafening
        
                 Cracks of

s i l e n c e
     Shoot across my brain
all     at     once
I register
                    The pain
Of a world without the sound of your


**name

I've been playing
With my epitaph
For years now.
So far, I got:
*I'm Sorry.

there are rainbows and trenches
deep under ground; circles and
triangles and cacophonous sounds
there are stars and supernovas
and lovers at night, there's an
opaque barrier of which deflects
your misguided light. there are
satellites and sea turtles and
caterpillars in their cocoons, there
are butterflies and melodies sung
melancholy and out-of-tune
there are eyes and collarbones,
the arch of your back, too, there
are daffodils in your garden and
untied shoes. there are wishes
and wonders and a sea as grand
as the sky, there are gallivanting
fish whilst eagles dance mid-flight.
there's me there's you there's 7
billion others; there's a world
hellbent on destroying one another
there's war and destruction and
death uncomfortably close and
sometimes among it all, we forget
we're a rock mid-float. there's
life and there's breath and two
lips in sync, there's romance with
love letters written in ink; what's
important in life is living it
marvellously, take a second to
smile at the people you see,
a moment to give to the less
fortunate, generously. one life
to live and one heart to maintain,
a kindness to give and a world
to sustain. if we weren't so busy
breeding hate, we'd walk hand
in hand towards the horizon, and
create our own tumultuous fate.

I miss you.
Plain and simple.
I miss you at 5:45am when I open my eyes to go to school, and I miss you as I dry my hair, I miss you when I put on the bracelets you once held in your hands, I miss you at school whenever my mind drifts away class (happens often), and I miss you at recess as I see everyone's face but yours. And I come home and I take a nap, because I miss you perhaps a little too much. And so when it's 3 in the morning and I can't sleep, you can certainly guess who just doesn't leave my mind. And so, I miss you against all odds and despite the gossips, I just plain and simple, miss your body next to mine.
And the only reason, your thought hasn't consumed me, the only reason I find all of this bearable, is because perhaps, you miss me too.

My heart has loved so many.
Ever-changing and ever lasting.
Going farther than I could ever believe.
And yet, I still get hurt and no amount of bandages,
nor thread can hold all of my pieces together.
I'm hoping that you know I still think of you and
my heart aches because I shattered yours:
something so elegant and valuable- broken.
only now do I realize that I've been wrong
right now I find that you didn't need me at all
right now I find that I needed you. More than anything. I'm
yearning for you to share some words with me again, but I know it wont happen
and rightfully so. I said I wasn't good enough, and I believed it, now more than ever. And still, I
neglected that you were telling me otherwise. That you still wanted me around.
Distance was my problem. How I longed to turn our tangled words into reality.
I still can't step onto my porch without having my mind flood full of regret.
maybe I'll stop with all of this nonsense of 'what ifs' and 'have beens' but for now it seems
impossible. I know I
still haven't met a soul as beautiful as yours or
someone who could make me feel so full with only their words.
You were that only person.
Only you could have done that. And when I drifted out of fear that you too would drift and leave me
under the sea to drown in the misery of a broken heart, you promised you
wouldn't.
I'm complicated. I'm afraid of heartbreak. I break hearts to save mine. Before anybody else can.
The pain of loneliness is truly unbearable. I know and feel how I'm going to be this way forever. If
Hell is a place on earth, I must be living it, spending
all day going over the words you had so tenderly given. So wrongfully given. I remember when
love existed between us. How palpable and real it was. How I could
list all the ways you touched my heart. The only person who meant it. The only person who ever did.
My god how I miss you.
Your title, body, notes, and
soul.
Only I could be such an idiot.
Understand, I'm so complicated. I'm so sorry. I know you're not coming back, but I never got to say, "I
love you."

I don't remember when the **** my poetry became about pleasing people or getting votes or views.
I don't remember when my writings were only created to be approved by a friend.
I don't know when things became about success or money.
I don't know why it turned into pleasing a lover.
But as soon as it did become about those things, I lost my spark, and suddenly writing was a chore.
I'm done with burning in my small spotlight with nothing flowing on paper,
I just want to be free.
It's time I get back to writing the way I used to.
For my emotion. For my passions. For myself.

And soon I'll forget the color of your eyes
and you'll forget mine.

Isn't it funny
How we become so attached to people
Only to detach months if not years later?

Isn't it funny
How the ones we let our guard down for,
Are the ones that make us build our walls higher then before?

Isn't it funny
How we fall in love
And either remain lovers



Or become

Permanent
*strangers.

It took me one sleepless night of writing
poems about you 
poems about us
of quietly suffering under the sheets of my bed
of letting the darkness around me enter
of letting desire consume my head.

It took me one sleepless night of writing
to promise I'll always put myself first
to hold my own hand
to lift myself up 
when I'm at my worst.

Because darling, you may have the most tender fingers
But who got me out of the sheets today?
It was myself
because I'm here alone
and you are so many miles          a w a y.