It's so easy to hang your head in shame,
To apologise without sincerity.
It's so easy to wither and crumple,
To let self loathing eat away at you like blight.
It's so easy to allow yourself to become nothing; something temporary.

Simplicity is a requirement,
we avoid all which attracts anarchy within us.
We do not anticipate accidents, we do not anticipate
those who clamber into our lives and shine
with individuality and complexion -
we fear those who possess difference.
It reminds us of what we lack,
or of what we are too afraid to expose to others.

And I fell in love with a rose, when I am merely a dandelion.
I write poems only to destroy them immediately;
endless words dedicated to people who will never dedicate a single thing to me.

I wither, I crumple.
I chose simplicity.

I like his voice, his laugh, the bravery that he unintentionally coaxes out of me.
I like the shape of his mouth and the softness of his lips.

I like the way that he walks;
hands in his pockets and facing the floor.
I like the length of his eyelashes and the freckle on his ear
that I once mistook for a piercing.
He is beautiful, so beautiful.

But the words that tumble from him are twisted and cruel,
He is not soft and golden like the hairs on the back of his neck
that my fingertips know all too well.
The butterflies in my stomach are trapped bats
which tear up my insides when he smiles at me.

I crave his outsides, as he craves mine.
He filled a gap, and now it is time for him to leave.

You left a crooked smile and a bitter taste in my mouth

You left shrugs, glares, unanswered questions

You left scraps of your spidery handwriting and an ache in my chest

You left me with people that are hollow, who look at me with disappointment - they want what I cannot give

You left a whisper, a murmur

I awake at 2:32 and I am 
empty

You left.