You can find darkness in every cell of my body.
    "The murmur of shadow, the hum of night."
                         We build our skins when the sun isn't looking.

Alone in her empty bed,
Hand upon his absence.

Terrified at the thought of
Him alone in his;

Enjoying the space and longing
For nothing.

Blue skies are ugly in the eyes
Of sadness,

Their emptiness relateable,
Loneliness sunburn.

She turns to the void.
To the beautiful trees;  

*Are you angry at
Me too?

They say the good die young and that used to scare me but now it just kind of makes me stop and think, and in a year or two, it might just make me smile.

I stopped being good a long time ago.

I. The Black Eyed Peas.

I told you a fib.
It was six years ago
so I doubt you’d remember.
Regardless, during one lunch-break
on the cusp of summer,
a matter of weeks before
we all exploded away from each other
you somehow had your legs
wrapped around my waist,
an unusual unexpected embrace.
A joke.
We were teenagers
and we mucked around more then.
Pulling me in yet
you seemed to lose magnetism;
strange - you always shone bright,
your laughter coiling round the room.
I stuttered for too long,
barely delving under the surface,
missing the sparkle, your diamond delights.
You are miles gone.

----------

II. David Guetta.

Not enough.
A corridor, a sprinkling of minutes.
My head in a whirl,
as anyone’s would be.
Like a firework, your white tendrils
splattered across my dark sky.
I couldn’t even call it trying.
I fumbled my words
as if fastening buttons
with my lesser-used hand.
Falling deeper into filthy water,
unable to hear your eyes
or see your words.
A loss.
A bout of crushing shame.
You deserved more,
not my faulty lines.
It couldn’t have worked,
it closed with a groan
not a radiant shout of ecstasy.
What are you saying?

----------

III. Example.

The grand peak of my weakness.
A clumsy rush of flower petals
smothered inside grey paper.
I burrowed further than before,
the soil dusting my fingers
but no more than that.
Swinging in my chair
for another look,
spouting brittle jokes
that melted in the heat.
I knew what I saw and I liked it.
You threw slivers of something;
I caught them, a hopeless
unknowing scarecrow.
Time sneaked away from us.
Naturally - it happens.
Your name has never left,
a crash in the air
like the blast of a trumpet.

----------

IIII. Miley Cyrus.

I repeat myself so many times
I want to cough on my fingers,
chuck it all on the side of a wall.
Every adjective worn down
to a rancid pulp on the ground.
There were moments
fizzing with optimism, the potential
for colours to rush back in,
to drizzle across my page
and slap a smile on my face.
We know what happened.
The string grew in length
and snapped,
my body jerking every which way
as if attempting some dreadful dance.
There wasn’t a sigh,
more a sound of acceptance,
the knowledge that again
I had missed the mark,
a bullet leaving the gun,
screaming the wrong way.
It is over now.

Some days, I miss my family. I wish that I could just go knock on their door and say, "Hey, I miss you. How have you been? I'm finally getting my life together and I hope you're proud of me because that's all I want."

I miss my cat. I've grown up with him since the age of four and I've never spent this long away from him. All I get to see is pictures every couple of weeks. I don't get to hold him or hear him and I just don't want him to forget me.

I miss my sister. The one who raised me. She taught me right from wrong, how to make sure that I was safe, how to cook, how to smoke without coughing my lungs out. Sure, I'll always have a tattoo to remember her by, but it would be nice to see her every once in a while too.

I miss my boyfriend. I feel so much better when he's near. I'll see him sooner than the others but I still appreciate everything he does for me. I can't wait for him to come home.

I miss myself. Sometimes I lose myself in the chaos of life and I forget the things most important to me. I have a new family that treats me as if I were their own child. I have friends and even old family that love me and care about me even with little contact.

Although I miss parts of my past, I still would not have it any other way. I have grown from what has packed me into the ground and I am blooming into something great.

I fell in love with a profile and a personal text, does that make me weak? I fell in love with a personality rather than a person, does that make me a statistic?
I’ve never been able to form a real physical bond, yet I’m intimate with intimacy, I’m contained by caresses and blessed and blissed within a warm kiss.
I’ve wanted love from you for a while, kiss the forehead, munch the lips, tasting the love spawned physically between us. What would you think of me if you knew?
What would you say if I kissed you right now, locking lips with my love and making a show of stroking your long black hair? What would you say if I told you I loved you and wanted what was best for you? Would you listen to me, love, would you?
I long to be heard by you. Apple cinnamon, sugar sweet, so sweet to bring a pain to the heart of a double-crosser, so sweet as to bring any man to his knees in submission to you: a ghostly figure, luminous dark eyes, yellowish pearls as teeth, body fit for who it was meant, and a love as strong as the chemistry that keeps our hearts pumping and our minds alive and well.
I want you, I desire  you, I am in a state of infatuation so deep under myself it gets hard to breathe, but the only one who can help me out of this hole is you.
Let me be your poet, I’ll lust you in words oh sweet as to instantly cause cavities.
Let me be your infatuation, I light a spark in your heart and tend it until it roars into a flame, then into a fire, a fire as hot as to melt the shackles around you, around your soul.
Let me be your love. This I beg of you. I want to be your everything, your anything. I want my name to be synonymous with “heart”, I want to cause jamborees and jubilees in your mind by simply saying the phrase I’ve meant for so long to say.
I love you.
I do love you, so let me. Let me be the light in the dark tunnel. I don’t mean to open this to interpretation, I only mean to pray to be around and help you through.
Let me love you, let me love you, let me love you. Sitting as I am, with my mind in disarray, this phrase is all I can repeat.
I am bare, love, and you clothe me.
I am pained, love, and you heal me.
But I am lonely, and as of this moment, I anticipate your cure once more.