I'm not very good at anything
Though I am a perfectionist
Finding myself below the best
In everything I do
I tell myself I don't need the satisfaction of Others
And that is the most substantial lie
I have ever told

SWEETHEART,

FOR SOME,
LOVE IS THE CURE.

AND

FOR SOME,
LOVE IS THE DISEASE.

I scream but I make no sound.
Why did you do it? What made you think it was okay?
What made you think that because we were dating you could do whatever you wanted to me?
Why did you not speak to me?
Why did you pretend it never happened? Do you realise what you did to me?
Do you even realise what you did?
Why did you treat me like an object?
Why?
I scream. I wonder if I'll ever be heard.

Silent now the television
Silent now the telephone
Silently I sit here,
Silent and alone.

I’m not sure why the poems
Are much harder now to write
Not sure why the sleep
Comes harder every night
Not sure if all the trials in life
Are harder now to take
I’m not sure that when the morning comes
That I will even wake.

If I was asked to take a risk
Not sure that I would dare
I’m not sure if I was dying
Anyone would care
Not sure that Heaven waits for me
Behind the pure white Pearly Gate
If I asked for fifteen minutes more
Not sure the Reaper-man would wait.

I’m not sure if my mistakes in life
Outweigh any good
Not even sure that honestly
I’ve done the best I could
Not sure when folks remember me
If they will grimace, or they’ll grin
Not sure official scorekeepers
Would vote my life a win.

Not sure if I have lived before
Not sure if there’s a second chance
Not even sure with lessons
I could learn to dance this dance
The world makes me dizzy
The carousel spins too fast.
Not sure my horse could win the derby
The brass ring might have already passed.
But I'm not sure.

Silently I sit here.

PwL 6/16/15

I write about every person who enters my life

thats why I never find closure
so I'm stuck in this infinite loop
of love and depression

the only two options I have left
is to stop living
or stop writing

but I live because I write and I write because I live

Grab me by the stem and hold on tight,
'til my thorns pierce your skin.
For a brief moment,
I will feel the essence of you,
and, darling, you'll feel me,
until you throw me down from the pain and clean off your hand.

Hands heal fast,
but your blood is still on my thorns.



I know that I scare you now,
but I just want someone to hold me.