Imagine if the sky were always orange and red
If it was a flaming sunset all the time
If the cloud's silver linings resembled halos
I think this the reoccurrence of beautiful things turning ordinary
I think this is the end of what once was a beginning
You see we often take things for granted
Things that do not last forever
I say to myself that nothing lasts forever often
I look at you and there is the picture frame understanding
You are a sunset I sometimes forget to step outside and see
Paint you on my walls to be a reminder of beauty
I often wonder if the sky were always orange and red
If it was a flaming sunset at all time
In the clouds silver linings resembled halos
I suppose if that were to be the case at hand
Then we may marvel and take pictures of the sky when it was blue

If you are not recovering you are dying
A phrase I have taken to heart
Tattooed on every bone of this skeleton inside of me
Despite its harshness, it's beyond true
If you are not recovering you are dying
Naturally, it didn’t offend me until I learned it was supposed to
I often sit and think of you for hours on hours
Wasting my time, as most people do on thinking of those they love who do not love them in return
It is the bittersweet past time of humans
Coffee shops are stained with more than coffee stains
I wonder how many chairs I've sat in that held someone else broken off of the ground
I wonder how many salt water lakes I have walked over when approaching the barista
My coffee burns my tongue
But no other feeling lingers worse on my mouth than the feeling of your lips
I have taken understanding that love does not mind giving scars
Remorse was never it's best attribute to conscience
We must know that in the midst of something wonderful chaos is making blueprints
Planning attack like a predator that has not eaten for days due to the winter
Nutrients to keep it alive have been hiding in trees and under snow
It is the middle of December and I ache for nothing more than your warmth
No amount of coats and sweaters can comfort me like your arms
Wrapped around me like a Christmas present
My coffee burns my tongue
But the flame of his words pressed against my skin
I do not love you anymore
Does not amount to the physical distress my body undergoes
My coffee burns my tongue
And I have not eaten because I am too full of a love
How strange it is to feel so empty but so unable to consume
Like a vase with no flowers
I am waiting for something beautiful to offer me meaning
And though waiting is not deemed to be the worst
The hands of my clock are leaving bruises on my wrist
My coffee burns my tongue
But in a few hours, it will heal
And I will taste cold coffee as the heater in my car warms my hands
If you are not recovering, you are dying
And at this point, I fear I will not see tomorrow
The dew on my window will not meet the ashes from my cigarette
Tomorrow I will not make it out of bed
Tomorrow I will not go downstairs and make coffee
It will not burn me
Cause I fear I will already have burned out

I'm sorry
I'm sorry for smelling like cigarette smoke around your mother and for staring at you all the time
I'm sorry my voice is shaking when you speak to me and I'm sorry for the burn scars on my hand and I'm sorry for hurting your ego
I'm sorry for taking new routes to get to class just so I can see you
I'm sorry for bothering you in your busy life that has lost desire for me to be in it
I'm sorry for losing sleep thinking about you, I'm sorry for losing touch
I'm sorry for not loving you like I should have
I'm sorry for loving like I should have now that you are gone

i wish history really did
repeat itself
because i badly
want you to happen to me
again

December 7th
It is Monday morning, 3:12 am
I'm sitting on my window sill
Smoking a cigarette
Outside, the air is frigid and wind blows on my right cheek
I can hear music playing faintly at the Fountain Motel
And cars racing by
To God knows where at such an hour
And I wonder why I'm awake
What is it within me that has caused such a stir
That my body cannot find rest
Though my mind is eagerly looking for it
In and out of focus
My eyes are like a camera lens
One minute things are blurry and colors differ
And the next I am seeing more clearly than I feel I ever have before
And maybe it is all in my head
But I keep hearing noises
Like someone is walking on the dead leaves that scatter the sidewalks
Or a stray animal moving amongst the trees
Or perhaps an imaginary figure haunting me
My throat is dry and my hands are cold
My legs wrapped in a blanket
And endless ideas, theories, misconceptions are running around me
Circling me and I feel as if at any moment I will be attacked
Annihilated by my own mind
There are plenty of ways I have pictured myself dying
This, this is not one of them

Welcome to the desolate place of feelings and being a fragile, wounded, human who doesn't know any better to stay away from cupid but really when did arrows get so **** appealing?
I guess love has its way of fooling everyone somehow into thinking pain
Into thinking that feeling something will somehow revive the numbness of your chest
Where your heart once held a pulse, where you knew for sure if you were alive
I often wonder if maybe I am only a ghost who has forgotten where her grave is
You were my home and now I am an abandoned carcass of unsent letters and unwritten songs
And there's nowhere to begin to explain, nowhere to end this madness
Every place of solace has been swept away to trespassed territory,
Your haunting presence follows me everywhere
And I have come to the likely conclusion
That maybe you are the ghost
You are the phantom of a boy who once knew love beyond such uninhabited stories
A spirit who enchants my dreams with who you used to be
And maybe I am the one who is alive, just a little less conscious