I want to softly whisper
incomplete poems
on your collar bones
that don't rhyme with anything
but your heavy breathing.

I want to bury my face
in the curves of your neck
because you smell like the winter clouds
and I've been gazing at the sky
since you left.

Well, if your still reading, then good for you.......you can handle my life.....

Well, since we talked on me not able to cry for too long, lets get a little in depth....

Mostly, my mom would yell at me, calling me(and I quote) *****, *****, ****, ****, *******, ***, assadine, *** whole, *******, ******* *****, and it goes on and on, with mixes and new ones........well, with that she'd yell at me to stop crying, and with each word came a swift kick to my back, and they mostly landed along my spine...... I still experience pain when I lay down, sit up, or even randomly when walking or sitting. It feels like knives are being put into that area...... I know cause I accidentally got stabbed on my hand while doing dishes...... I hate knives...... Any way that's that, and from then on I rarely cry.

Home is supposed to be safe
Home isn't supposed to desert you
Home is supposed to love you unconditionally
Home isn't supposed to make you want to pull out the blade
Hope is supposed to be comfortable
Home isn't supposed to require little white pills
Home is supposed to be you
Home isn't supposed to be killing me

Everything around me has become confusing
From feelings to family, everything has broken
Into a million tiny pieces, like specks of   dust
And I'm done dealing, so I sit here breathing them in