i keep telling myself to stop using you to self medicate

but the sound of your name is enough to close my wounds

remember the night I told you that you're my home and that

i wrote my poems on my skin because i wanted to place them somewhere you would notice

i asked you to take me to the mountains so we could fall in love at the highest peak

you said you wanted to reach into the sky and pull down a star for me

i don't even know who i am anymore. i'm stuck between the person i was before you and the person i am with you.

and now you're gone

sincerely, a girl who could never apologize for loving you

What if I mess it up and you realise I'm not
"the one".

What if I break your heart and grind the fragments into a million tiny pieces?

What if I say goodbye only to realise that the word I was looking for was
"Stay".

What if you can't handle the pressure of being with someone so beautifully insane?

What if our differences tear us apart and we end a potential lifetime of laughter with
"Sorry".

What if every "what if" I have in my head destroys us before we even begun?

It keeps eternal whisperings around
Desolate shores, and with its mighty swell
Gluts twice ten thousand caverns, till the spell
Of Hecate leaves them their old shadowy sound.
Often 'tis in such gentle temper found,
That scarcely will the very smallest shell
Be moved for days from whence it sometime fell,
When last the winds of heaven were unbound.
Oh ye! who have your eye-***** vexed and tired,
Feast them upon the wideness of the Sea;
Oh ye! whose ears are dinned with uproar rude,
Or fed too much with cloying melody,—
Sit ye near some old cavern's mouth, and brood
Until ye start, as if the sea-nymphs choired!

Its 6 am,
and the clock
on the wall,
keeps me awake,
makes me aware
of time ticking by.

My heart broke,
a long time ago
and i don't think
i can ever
be whole.

You call yourself
A flower child
And dance under the sun
But I am a child of the moon
And it's beneath the stars
That I have my fun

-M.A.S.S.

It makes me sick to think
that  I am sitting at my desk
with tears welling in my eyes
trying to compose
something beautiful to describe
how you put knots in my stomach
in the worst way.
Thinking to myself,
maybe if I make it sound pretty
something beautiful will come out of this.

But you're just a pretty face
with a jet black heart
and I've been telling myself
for way too long
that playing hard to get
will make you a dependable person
When evidently,
I don't need you to be devoted
I need you to be gone.