This is the worst morning of my life
Though, I have said so before
Everything is terrible
I'm so terribly bored and I hate the way everything feels
Wish I had some ****
Coffee and cigarettes just aren't cutting it
What's it?
Stress
I would leap from a bridge to end it all
But am I not already falling?
Question is, when will I hit the bottom?

No life to speak of
As I sleep, wake
Breathe
Turn into wall
See, believe
Dream
Break
Crushed into dust
Float
Sail into you
Faith, trust
I'm lost in your voice

Don't wait for me
In broken dreams
Of dying stars
With crying eyes
You will never wake

So void of feeling
Maybe I should go for a drive
Yes, you know me
& you know that I am not alive
I am machine dream overload

I still feel you in my sleep
your morning hair against a pillow
skin like silk rubbing up against mine
tired voices whisper words I didn't think I'd have to hold onto
eyes remain shut, afraid of facing the light of day
but some things are inevitable and I suppose that includes you and I and us together
I knew then that you might've loved me
but that isn't always enough to save us from ourselves and all our chaos
so I let you walk away
I just hope when you find your legs entangled in hers
you wonder about the love we could've made
if you had ever learned to wait for something true
I hope you ******* lips when she climbs onto you
& you remember the way I made you feel without touching you at all

Who is this girl chasing after a boy?
Darling, you are worth so much more
He has failed to see that

I know I can’t stop you
as long as the pain in your heart remains
you will follow the one who you think can fix it

But he is not the only source
there is a place of overflowing joy
A place where the truth prevails

In your Father’s arms
there is love everlasting
I hope you find it someday

I don’t get to write sad poetry anymore
Not when you nested between my ribs like a second heart,
beating an orchestra,
a whole concerto against my skin.
There’s gentle fingers on my scraped knees,
they don’t feel so painful anymore.

Love is not giving yourself away piece by shattered piece
to convince him to feel about you what you feel for him
it is not a million misused chances for the stubborn hope that the pretty words you write will make him want to stay
it is not allowing him to treat your body like a hotel, to come and go in his own pleasure
because he knows better than to think there will come a day where you may have changed the locks
love is not an inexhaustible cycle of sleepless nights
spent wondering what variant of himself he may show you tomorrow
if he shows you one at all
love is not stripping yourself of all the armor you put on to shield away all of his demons
his lips may taste like honey but baby they burnt your skin
and he is already painting her the pictures you thought were only meant for you