I need a sedative.
Desperation never looked good on anyone.
But when I show a little skin and do my make-up just right,
I can make it more than passable.
I can make them fall in love with the way my body becomes music, and my hollow gaze, and my photo-shopped smile...
All before they even know my name.
Not that they will ever care to know it.

My emptiness is unbearable.
And my heart is running away with my mind,
So they can live in train cars
Or abandoned warehouses
Or maybe a nice treehouse somewhere.
If they're smart, they'll see the world before settling down.

Meanwhile,
What's left behind is walking along the streets in quiet neighborhoods,
Humming sad songs that sound like hallelujah and empty orchestras,
While the rain melts me into the cracks in the sidewalk.
I'll be nothing at all by morning.

I'm not a real girl anyways.
I'm a memory box.
Keep your best of times tucked away in me.
I'll gather dust in the garage, or the attic, or the basement.
Or maybe, if I'm really lucky, a shelf in your room,
Where, at least occasionally, you'll glance at me and smile.
But even that is aiming pretty high.

My days are filled with,
Poetry and Pandora --
Read and write and sing...
(I'm nothing if not lonely)
Bug me anytime you want.

Oh, insomnia, thou art a heartless *****.
And yet, I embrace thee --
For staying with me every night,
When no one else does.

My bed is quite the companion.
He keeps me warm,
When it's too cold to walk away.

So, wrap your arms around me and we'll wait for the sun to rise together.

The winter months are the harshest --
The nights are far too cold,
The days are far too short,
And every minute I'm awake is never-ending.

I hardly ever see the sun.

I'll swallow something bitter;
Let my stomach catch on fire...
And sing silent songs to the stars --
They listen to me every night,
When no one else does.

even when I'm with you I miss you,
but I try really hard not to when you're gone.

I keep trying to love you less,
or love you different,
but I can't.

I need some more:
s                              p

                  a
     ­                                  c
        e.

I want some more:

s                              x.
               e