How can I sleep
when her absence
has it's fingers
gripped tightly
around my throat
and my patience
has slipped away
with my last breath
and my words can't
make her stay? My
eyes refuse to close
until they see her
by my side hand in
hand with no
distractions her voice
ringing in my ears
and my heart
radiating with joy.

You have the world at your fingertips and
inside there is an entire universe that I was
ready to explore. To find the deepest cracks
and brush my soft fingers along their jagged
edges so they could remember what it felt
like to feel whole. To press my lips to the
water's edge and set it on your tongue so
you would forget the ache of your thirst.
I'd take your heart in the palm of my hand
and massage every weak spot to remind
you that each heartbreak made you stronger.
Your bones kept you walking, and your
muscles, like gravity, brought you
right to me.

When I concentrate
the ache goes away
and I am beautiful
with my ribs hiding
under this flesh
the extra body heat
that is so unnecessary
and I know the mirror
tells me lies and its
my brain that tells
me otherwise but the
act of resistance is
an addiction;
to deprive myself
is an obsession I
can't break I can't  
heal it's a disease its
a paradox, like me,
nonsensical, there is
no substance to it
only absence, no
release, there is no
relief.  The  voices in
my head are screaming
at me to not give up
to stay away to keep
my distance.  The more
I resist, the more
beautiful I become.
Does it tire me out?
Does it keep me alive?
I persuade myself to
believe that I will not
lose myself resisting
but then I am empty
and I feel the dark
engulf my soul that
fades away and my
mind begins to fight
with me, myself, and I
and then I realize that
I love the way I hate
myself not that I am
loving myself because
I have lost myself
I lost my way and
before I heal the fear
creeps in and hysteria
takes its toll and there
is pain everywhere and
I become completely
dark so that the light
can sneak back in and
light up my sky once again.
But I know the ache
always makes a reappearance..

She handed me a rose,
its stem studded with thorns,
when I swept my hand gracefully toward it
she forced it roughly into my palm.
She pressed down hard, breaking the skin,
and as the blood began to run down my arm
she turned around and laughed at my pain,
breaking my trust with one single act,
but as she walked away I followed
with my head held high I continued
to let her stab me in the back.

I love you
     I love you, I do.
             your sleepy eyes,
             your heavy heart,
             the way your faded smile turns around
             and makes your eyes shine bright,
             the look you give me when I have a complaint,
             the look you give me when you see my happiness.
     The love of the world you have through the bad,
     The love of the world you have through the good.
I love you, I do, and I love
             the way you giggle to yourself when you're lost in thought,
             the way you ignore me during your favorite song,
             the way your soul helps you to dance through this battle-filled life.
             and I love the way you let your light shine through your scars.
                              I love you, I love you, I do.

She hated that I knew her,
whispered it in my ear,
as my head rested on her lap
and we sat in the fresh-cut grass,
watching the clouds make the sun disappear.
Hiding from the party,
holding onto each others' arms,
we kept each other safe
as we tore each other apart.
When her lips touched mine
for the first and last time
I felt everything we had melt into my fingertips
and **** me inside.
I think she knew that I would die.

I will teach myself
to forget my name
and the names of many others
so that when Sunday comes
I'll be able to lay in peace
and remember who I am
without the world's influence
at play.
I lose myself
throughout each week
as each new person that I meet
pulls me apart
and places their judgments;
they only see light
but I remember the dark,
I like to let it come out and play,
the dark that made me most of
what I am today.
Everyone else is so afraid
to stick their fingers
in the holes inside my soul
that ooze the light.
Why is everyone so afraid
of the dark?

At the end of the day,
only you can make you happy.