Her smile is my favorite geometrical anomaly

Mathematicians have yet to discovered a name for it

Expressing sunshine

Solving the issue of yesterdays broken equations

The corners of her lips are the product of perfection

Like smoke in my lungs, it is an acquired taste that I could not bring myself to quit. And now that I have, the flavor is unprecedentedly toxic.
2. Your name is merely a catalyst to my relapse. You turned your head away from it then, and I know you will turn your head away from it now.
3. To hear that beautiful arrangement of letters coming from my own lips only reminds me of the genuine smile on your face that you can only have when I am gone. And every time it makes me wonder if I truly mean it when I say I am happy for you.
4. I cannot reconcile what is with what could have been. Maybe if I was still yours and you were still mine, it would be endearing to say your name.
5. When it's 4 am and I am falling apart in my half empty bed, I cannot find the breath to utter your name between sobs.
6. I have spent too much time pretending that your absence has had no affect on me that I have not yet grieved. But, I could never pity myself without shouting your name into an empty void.
7. Maybe I am only idealizing you, but his name left a bitter taste and I have been craving yours on my lips.
8. I cannot say your name because I know that if you were to turn your head in recognition, I'd get lost in those blue eyes and fall for you all over again.
9. There is no logic behind how I inherited the right to say your name. Since you have left, this complacency is eating me alive and I am only left to wonder why someone so beautiful would have ever touched a soul like mine.
10. I cannot speak of your name any longer because it is no longer my privilege. It is hers to say now.

They call me Jack! A Jack the Lad
a man who likes to go out late.
I must confess that I'm a cad
and often seen in Aldegate.

Whitechapel and Spittlefield
are other locations I frequent.
Tis where I often draw my yield
and nay for that I'll not lament.

Inspired by my ill repute,
repugnant chanting of my name,
I'll seek and find a *******,
commencing to secure my fame.

Reference books cannot advise
what two skilled hands can show.
Exacting cuts when I excise,
instructing where my blade doth flow.

My first, Miss Nichols, I recall,
whom blinded by the lure of coin,
into my clutches she did fall
and she, I did indeed refine.

Chapman then I did impress
with incision so demanding.
Nothing taken to excess
an ***** now made outstanding.

Stride and Eddowes in one night
but fortune demanded I should race.
Though well presented to the light,
embarrassment is my disgrace.

My final lady played the game,
Miss Kelly whom at my insistence.
She alone recoiled my fame,
my very own Piece de Resistance.

I should not dream so much about you
Yet I do
That even when I close my eyes,my slumber calls out your name in the dark
It tangles it's legs in thoughts of you
And even when I have days I try to pry them free
I still fail,because you cannot untangle your soul,you cannot untangle everything you are without drawing blood
And I don't want to bleed

related to childhood emotional abuse or neglect...
not to be confused with derealization or 'fantasy prone personality'

maladaptive daydreaming is seeing your face when I fall asleep at night
or hearing your voice in a children's store

"Come look! Look at these shoes!", and seeing you scramble at a pair of sandals

Big brown eyes begging me to buy them as "an early birthday present, just this once."

Maladaptive daydreaming
is blinking and not even having time to register the fact that you'd disappeared

and I was standing alone in the children's shoe aisle,
on my knees holding a pair of sandals
and feeling that same twist in my gut that I did on the day

the papers were signed and my passport was stamped,
to get on a plane to another country

without so much as waving goodbye

Maladaptive daydreaming is crying through anti-abortion rhetoric
and sympathising with teenage mothers

it's seeing you smile behind a nikon camera, calling
"Look at this pretty picture I took! See, see?"

and then realising that I was only smiling at a fallen camera in the sand

Maladaptive daydreaming
is regretting a choice I didn't make

it's steeling my jaw at immature jokes
and relating to all those children raising children

Maladaptive daydreaming
is regretting giving up a daughter
I never had

Roses are red,
Violets are blue,
Sugar is sweet,
And so are you.



But the roses have wilted,
And the violets are dead,
The sugar bowl is empty,
And my wrist are stained red.