Sinking into my bed
Used to feel so comforting
But now,
Without you to
Leave the sheets all wrinkled
By your incessant
Turning and twisting
To get yourself comfortable enough,
It's now left to be just a bed
A bed I sleep in
A bed where I lay
Every night, dreaming of you
And wondering
If all the twisting and turning
You did should have warned me
You were never at peace
In my presence, I must've noticed
But I let myself be blinded
By how you'd pull me to you
When you thought
I was long gone asleep
Or perhaps you knew
Perhaps you knew all along
I've been keeping myself up
And trying to engrave in my brain
The way you'd twist and turn
In hopes of remembering
You precisely once you left
Because I always knew you
Eventually would
Leave me

You'll know you're
One of the many
Messed up people
When you start to think
This way:

If I die a crucial death, will those who love me imagine themselves to be in my place as I'm dying?

You'll know
You're as messed up
As they get
When you start to
Think like I do

I constantly find myself trying to tell people I'm sad and it's as if they're all trying their best to not listen

“When you knock but the door never opens, you eventually stop." (Not the exact words) — Miss Peregrine's Home For Peculiar Children

He's an artist. Always have been one.
Whenever I shy away from his piercing stare he says,
"But you're the canvas,
medium
and the art itself in human form,
you have to let me—
the word I wanna use doesn't exist
but as an artist,
I'd say it doesn't matter."
That makes me give myself away
to him every time.
I'm positive
I'll continue
to give all I can
to that boy as long as he asks for it. Heck, he doesn't even need to ask,
I'd give him anything and everything
in anyway and every way.
All he has to do is
continue giving me that look
in return.
Our relationship
is based on a give and return cycle,
after all.

Exuberant together that they were
Blithe
Did not come easily into their
Life
Admist the tragedies and fantasies
They just didn't chime nicely like car keys

Albeit the urges to not keep
Their friendship intact grew strong
They managed to not weep
Over their relationship that was utterly wrong

Gone was the boy who
popped his collar
And was always, always right
Replaced him was the boy who
prayed at the altar
And behaved humbly with all his might