It comes in waves and surges,
aching in my bones and coursing through my veins,
and I wish I could hate you and curse your name,
but at the end of the day it is I who takes the blame.

I wish I could rewind back,
think to myself stop and think about what is wrong,
because I would see it's not us or you but me
and I could apologise and cry and tell you how much I am sorry but now when the moon is in the sky and my only companions are the scabs on my arms and the ***** burning in my throat my words aren't so clear and my message isn't so simple and I just wish
I could hate you and curse your name,
but at the end of the day it is I who takes the blame.

Sometimes it is impossible to express myself,
not because I cannot find the right words,
but because I cannot understand what it is that I want to say.
My mind is like all the books I have ever read,
all the TV shows I have ever watched,
all the songs I have ever listened to,
twisted and spinning on repeat all at once and I cannot pick out one single thing,
let alone comprehend it.
I am a muddle of all things good, bad and ugly,
The only thing constant is the beating of the muscle under my ribs,
and even then I sometimes feel like it stops.
When people ask me
"How are you?" or even "Are you okay?"
It is so much easier to reply with a simple "Yes"
Because even though it is not,
I cannot say why.
I don't know what is wrong,
there is a disease in my mind and it is spreading,
and the cure is somewhere deep within my thoughts,
but it is muffled in so much else that I can't find it,
which is funny because I am the cure to my own sickness but I am too sick to find out what the cure is.

i wonder if i'll ever forget,
the way your teeth show just a little bit when you laugh,
or how your eyes seem like big beautiful orbs in the sunlight.
how your hair does that thing where it looks like a nest when you first wake up,
or the sound of your voice when you haven't had enough sleep.
your big ugly sweater that would look awful on anyone but you,
or the way you paint your nails as if you had just minutes to spare.
the sound of your sobs when you watch sad films,
or how your entire face lights up and glows when your favourite song comes on.
i wonder if i'll ever forget,
the things that made me love you,
because you seem to have forgotten the same things about me.

She cries.
Not tears of sorrow, or loneliness.
She cries the pure essence of pain,
like some ****** extract of the harsh reality of life.
Her eyes are opened and with each blink she pops the bubble we live within,
beyond her years in sadness and hurt and beyond her beauty in hatred.

She smiles.
Not laughter from jokes, or satisfaction.
She smiles the broken fragments of hope and dreams,
each curve of her lips pressing the shards deeper into her skin as it rips open and the feelings she keeps under lock and key spill out,
dripping sweet red desperation onto already blood stained sheets,
and imagines a world where her eyes were not opened to what life really has to offer.

Hush now,
dry your tears,
I know you wonder how,
it has been going on for years.
Promise me you'll stay,
keep quiet and don't you cry,
Happiness will find you one day,
So please just cling on and try.