You phone me at quarter-to-eleven,
Telling me that you belong in heaven,
But you are only intoxicated,
And now that I've been inocculated,
With this long, never-ending depression,
I know how to accept your confession.

But don't you try to find reasons to go,
Because I will instinctively follow,
So let me collect your tears in my palm,
And soothe your forehead 'til you're coldly calm,
So that you forget about ****** blades,
And let this frightening fear slowly fade.

i guess i am
only calling you
at 2 am tonight because;
i miss strong arms around me
comforting kisses on my forehead
reasurring smiles
loving words told
to warm my heart

and i know you're the only one
who will give me those things
and truly mean them
when you do

even though i have to
give you fake smiles
and dry kisses
in return

.

Remember...
The bashful gazes that worked their way into your armour

Remember...
The clumsy saunter that incited your laughter

Remember...
The lips that parted confidently only to reveal child-like stutter

Remember...
The warmth that enveloped your hand as we walked together

Remember...
The winter day's kiss that felt like never-ending summer

Remember...
The day disappointment overwhelmed and doubt grew bolder

Remember...
The inevitable conflicts that resulted in futile banter

Remember...
The embrace when everything fell apart and seemed unclear

Remember...
The whispers that failed to soothe when your pillow got wetter

Remember...
The journey that now seem to not matter

Remember...
My heart as you once did...
As your silhouette drifts away,
everyday much further

Light, dancing wildly
Spectrums of colour, of creation
I look at my reflection
Against the cool glass
my breath staining it like frost
Sometimes I am transparent
like this mirror, like this cold air
and still, I look into myself
the crushing weight of the world
making the glass pulse
and my pulse, shatter
My emotions bleed out onto a wood frame
seeping through and taking shape
Turbulent, uncertain, blazing, brilliant
Is this me?
My inner turmoil made flesh
inside this glass tomb

I am, as I have always been,
On the wrong side of the mirror.