why do we leave the ones that'll do anything to see us smile,
for the ones that love to watch us bleed?

Our love isn't like poetry,
There aren't stars in your eyes,
I've been blinded by lies,

Our love doesn't make me feel alive,
The way poets paint love to be,

Our love isn't like poetry
As a matter of fact
You're dead to me.

I like it loud.
You turn it off.  
Why don't you go?
You stand in shock.
I want to dance
You make me stop
You ruin us.
I stare at the clock.
All I can say
Is just get out.

it's been around ten months since:

1. our last moments of conversation.
2. the last time I'd wait, eager for love clarification.
3. one last glance at the love of my life.
4. I'm sorry I haven't gotten you out of my head.
5. you smelled like cigarettes & lust.
6. true love is something I can't forget.
7. nothing compares to your eyes.
8. I certainly wish you'd take me back.
9. hoping the memories rock your bed.
10. months since I left your heart, I cry.

You could illuminate as bright as the North Star
but you're settling for a shine as insignificant as
a street light in a crowded city.

the sound of your voice
reminds me of an ice cube
cracking against water's touch
maybe it's because
your soul is frozen
and your words are cold

As if my burnt lungs, swollen heart, and pill filled stomach disintegrated into little fragments of sand, pouring effortlessly down my spine.
Feeling so empty, yet gaining the weight of constant regret, pain, and sadness as the sand sinks down to my waist.
An endless hourglass, feeling everything I’ve ever felt, thickly gliding through my body, only to pile up heavier, and heavier, until I can’t move.
The inability do anything but feel it draining and filling me as a whole.
No solution, the sand will not run out, not until the day I die, the day I am at peace. A constant reminder of what I feel, everything at once, yet, nothing at all.