Bad habits die hard,
or so they say.
Though my bad habits
won't ******* die at all.

My heart aches
to feel something.
My head longs
for my heart to feel
anything.
Though I feel absolutely
nothing.

A force stronger than gravity
pushing down.
Stumbling,
reaching out,
unable to find purchase;
Falling,
falling,
falling...
but does it ever end?

I am a night owl,
a lone wolf
always howling at the midnight moon.

The sun sets
as the people do too
and Darkness comes to caress the minds
of those still holding on
to consciousness.
Many are plagued, violated
by the shadowy tendrils reaching out
to stroke the thoughts of the sentient.

However, I embrace Darkness
as though I would a lover.
Together we maneuver through my mind,
no area left untouched,
yet every scenario and possibility
touched on.

And when the first rays of sun
try to peak from around the curtain,
I somberly say, "So long," to Darkness
and then let Sleep cradle
my unconscious mind.

Countlessly,
I have found myself with the fleeting desire
to be all the people who have replaced me
and those whose memory I was meant to erase.
Though as quickly as I process the thought,
the wish to be who I am not dies
and I am left only feeling shame.

Shame that for even a split second -
I didn't see my worth,
I thought I wasn't good enough,
I compared myself to another.

Although, mainly shame for in that brief moment,
I didn't love myself.

How beautifully melancholic is it
that the person
who makes our whole world
also holds the power
to tear it
d

o


w



n

Your brown eyes
fill my gut with butterflies
fluttering their wings violently,
they render me silent-ly
I would gaze at you from afar,
but now we've progressed
we're getting drinks at the bar.
This pitter-patter in my chest
keeps increasing it's pace,
especially when your face
is so close to my own.
Perspiration builds on my skin,
yet I'm calmed by the scent of your cologne.
I just want my heart to win
this round of heart versus head
because the beginnings are so sweet,
yet it's the end that I dread.

after hours, days, weeks of crying
over a love lost
i wondered how the water kept pouring
from my eyes
and how i did not shrivel into nothingness

however
then i realized the correlation
between the bottomless sea
and the endless salty tears
constantly leaking from my ocean eyes

"You're better off without him."
"You could do so much better."
"You deserve better than that."

Better,
better,
better.

I don't need,
I don't want
anyone's sympathy.
Take your pity party elsewhere
to someone who cares
for the attention.
Because I need space
to contemplate.

My exes have probably heard
the same spiel too,
"You're better off without her."
"You could do so much better."
"You deserve better than that."

Better,
better,
better.

But,
what if they are
the ones who could do better
than me?

We used to say in the beginning
how it felt like such a dream.
Though, somehow
somewhere along our journey,
it turned into a nightmare.
The memories of us together,
I’ve now hidden.
Yet, I know where to find them
and sometimes I find myself
flipping through an album
of moments captured in time,
a reminder that at one point it was
most definitely a dream
and not just a night terror.

There's something about you
that still draws me in,
though maybe it's just remembering
how your lips tasted like sin.
There was the uncontrollable attraction
neither of us could deny,
but I've sobered up now
I'm no longer trapped in the high;

The false reality
that I created in my head
was just distraction,
like all those times in your bed.
Your tender touch
and sweet caress
were all just a ploy,
though you'd never confess.

Now I'm gone,
although you still try
to make me think you care,
but I won't fall for the lie.
I'm completely done with you now,
I'm over this strife,
so this is my spell
to cut you out of my life.

I have never understood why people
fear death.

To me, death is like a simple
"good-night"
that one never wakes up from.

That day was a penultimate beginning of the end.
She had known it too
somewhere deep inside,
but it threatened to compromise her “happiness.”
So, she chose to disregard it completely,
although seemingly ridiculous notions
already started swirling through her mind.
Anxiety began to bubble up and
s
p
i
l
lllll  over.
Her locked away thoughts and feelings
ate away even more at her festering heart.
Then, it ended.
Slowly, so slowly,
she healed; returned to normal.
The scars are still there,
but she stands stronger than before.

Gut clenching
Heart wrenching
Hands shaking
Knees quaking

The feeling of being twisted
wrung out like a soaking wet towel, trying to get
every
last
drop
starts from the middle of my core and spreads out
towards my skin
towards my limbs
like an infectious disease rampaging my body.

Contorting my body into a ball so tight
that my shins bear marks from the iron grips of my fingers
is seemingly the only way to relieve this pressure from within.

Yet,
the only thought running through my semi-conscious mind
while I go through this invisible torture is,
"Why me?"
What sins have I committed in my past lives
which would cause me to endure this kind of pain?

You sat upon your throne
made up of empty cigarette cartons and crushed beer cans.
You thought yourself so mighty and entitled.
Yet, you didn't see it coming, did you?
I left the pathetic kingdom you ruled and enslaved me in.
Like a shadow of death, I gave you one last kiss
and everything as you knew it came
c

r


a



s




h





i






n







g








down.

From a young age we have been taught
America is the home of the free;
America is the country of opportunity;
here you can be whatever you dream.

So, what do we do?
We follow our dreams
(or attempt to).
We sign our lives away,
we let ourselves be turned into
mind-less zombies,
while building a mountain of debt
throughout the process.
Just to then be told
our dreams cannot be reached.

Go directly to jail.
Do not pass go.
Do not collect $200.

*God Bless America.

I feel myself slipping.
The ground slowly crumbles
from beneath me
to swallow me whole;
into that dark abyss once more.
I know it’s coming for me.
I can’t escape it.
My legs are full of lead,
too heavy to lift;
weighing me down
and helping me fall faster
to rock bottom once more.

I try to not to feel lonely
when you're talking to your friends,
a huge smile on your face,
laughter coating the words you speak,
your eyes crinkling like they do
when you're overjoyed about something.

I try not to feel self conscious
when you don't touch me like you used to.
You no longer hold me to your chest
like I'm something precious from a dream,
which you desperately try to cling on to.
You never look at me,
at my body,
with stars in your eyes
and fire at your fingertips.

I try to not feel jealous when I see you
with a glowing screen accenting your plump lips,
which are smirking at an irrelevant post,
but that I want kissing my own.
And those eyes of yours I've gotten lost in
too many times to count,
focusing solely on your 3x5 screen,
with me wishing, hoping, praying
you'll look at me again with even just an ounce
of the love we had.

I try not to be selfish
when I ask how your day was
listen to your, "It was absolute ****," rant
and then wait into the early hours of the morning
for you to ask me if I'm alright.



Because I'm not.....

I always find myself
in the same frustrating predicament.
There’s something my heart wants,
though my brain can’t figure out what it is.
It’s like a wild goose chase;
My mind thinks it’s on the right track
My heart seems to agree,
then my pursuit comes to an abrupt halt
and my heart runs away maniacally laughing.

I know I should not
let anyone's opinion of me
diminish my self worth.
Yet, the second after you told me
you no longer found me desirable,
all the confidence
I had been building up for the past decade
plummeted.
Faster and harder
than any star ever has ever collapsed before;
into this black hole,
which now consumes me.

What is it about a stranger
that makes it easier to
p
o

u


r



your heart out?

I've had people ask before,
"What was that scar from?"
then a,
"Why did you do it?"

Why,
why,
why,
why,
why?

That question mulls itself
over and over
in my mind like a mantra,
until my brain becomes dizzy.

Why did I?  
Why am I?

To feel?  
To distract?
To numb?

I have no direct answer,
only a question for their question.

Then, I realize
this might be the only thing
I am completely unsure of
about myself.

In this society,
you cannot be at peace with who you are.
You must always find something wrong
with your biological makeup
and every choice that has shaped your personality.

They say, "love yourself,"
yet shame and call those who do narcissists.
Well,
I chose to separate myself from this hypocrisy.

I am beautiful,
I am clever,
I am funny,
I am not perfect,
I am me.

I chose to accept all of it;
the ups and the downs,
my vices and virtues,
every single experience I have in life
that will help me grow
into who I am becoming.

**** society,
**** the media,
and *******.

Every waking day
I am still haunted
by your lack of presence.
Even in dreams,
you’ve stopped showing,
as my soul has recognized
that you are no longer beside me.

Oh,
how easy is it for me to simply
forgive the hurt
you caused my soul to endure;
Forgetting
is a whole different matter though.
You must have me under your spell,
for when you’re next to me
I forget every wrong doing you've done,
but as soon as you leave,

every

single

thing

comes down upon me.
Like a wave crashing angrily upon the shore
when the sea is storming;
Like getting caught in a sudden downpour
that drenches and chills you to the bone.
These things I can’t forget
climb into my mouth
and slither down my throat;
keeping my lungs from filling with air
and keeping the heartbreaking sobs in.

I'm a closet hopeless romantic
hiding my heart away under the facade
of having a block of ice in its place;
an empath in an apath's clothing.  
I can pick out the fuckboys from a mile away,
hands tied behind my back and blindfolded.  
I don't want your meaningless physical touch.  
Why settle for something less
when I can just do the job better myself?  
What I crave is that connection.  
The kind you feel upon first locking eyes,
where your soul and their soul interacts,
and something just clicks.  
When two people share that soul connection,
it's not just *******,
it's a whole beautiful experience.
And though it's only been a few moments
since I had something like this,
to my soul,
it feels like a millennia

i cut back the branches you ensnared around my heart
just to realize
you also left your thorns deep in the *****
which i will have to agonizingly pull out
one by one

I’m riding this roller coaster
called life,
but the highs
are losing frequency,
and the lows
keep getting lower.

Not a poem, just a (silly) question.  I remember a few years ago being able to select italics, bold, strikethrough, etc.  How do you italicize/bold words now?  I've seen it in recent works from others, but for the life of me can't figure it out.

Thank you,
Seachel <3

They idly sit upon my shelves;
Some collecting dust from years of neglect,
others with tears, stains, or crinkles
adorning their once pristine, white pages.
There are a select few I revisit frequently.
Yet, most are still strangers to me.
These are my only friends,
though I’m positive if they could sprout legs,
they would leave me too.