It was one of the best years
Of my short 17 year life.
I managed to drown
In the lake that was your eyes.
I managed to tumble
Down a hill into your arms.
I managed to fall
In love,
But for me it was an easy feat.
I wanted to fall in love,
And I wanted it to be with you,
But maybe love isn't so easy to come by.
Maybe I was
Drowning,
Tumbling,
And falling
Into another reality.
One where we were both happy
100% of the time.
Not just happy 30%
And angry or upset 70% of the time.
Is that love?

I will never be someone's first option.
I get that,
Or at least I am trying to.
But for once I actually thought
That I might not get used.
Maybe that's all I'm good for.
And maybe I'm taking this all too far-
And too personally.

The emptiness,
It filled the void.

The silence,
It filled my mind.

I feel that nothingness
Can be something too.

It is a catalyst to
Creation.

A development in the mind
That extracts the most inner inkling
And transforms it into your grandest idea.

Maybe silence seems like a handicap to you,
But to me it is a

Six thousand five ***-
dred and twenty nine days I
Have lived on this sphere.

If you are not recovering you are dying
A phrase I have taken to heart
Tattooed on every bone of this skeleton inside of me
Despite its harshness, it's beyond true
If you are not recovering you are dying
Naturally, it didn’t offend me until I learned it was supposed to
I often sit and think of you for hours on hours
Wasting my time, as most people do on thinking of those they love who do not love them in return
It is the bittersweet past time of humans
Coffee shops are stained with more than coffee stains
I wonder how many chairs I've sat in that held someone else broken off of the ground
I wonder how many salt water lakes I have walked over when approaching the barista
My coffee burns my tongue
But no other feeling lingers worse on my mouth than the feeling of your lips
I have taken understanding that love does not mind giving scars
Remorse was never it's best attribute to conscience
We must know that in the midst of something wonderful chaos is making blueprints
Planning attack like a predator that has not eaten for days due to the winter
Nutrients to keep it alive have been hiding in trees and under snow
It is the middle of December and I ache for nothing more than your warmth
No amount of coats and sweaters can comfort me like your arms
Wrapped around me like a Christmas present
My coffee burns my tongue
But the flame of his words pressed against my skin
I do not love you anymore
Does not amount to the physical distress my body undergoes
My coffee burns my tongue
And I have not eaten because I am too full of a love
How strange it is to feel so empty but so unable to consume
Like a vase with no flowers
I am waiting for something beautiful to offer me meaning
And though waiting is not deemed to be the worst
The hands of my clock are leaving bruises on my wrist
My coffee burns my tongue
But in a few hours, it will heal
And I will taste cold coffee as the heater in my car warms my hands
If you are not recovering, you are dying
And at this point, I fear I will not see tomorrow
The dew on my window will not meet the ashes from my cigarette
Tomorrow I will not make it out of bed
Tomorrow I will not go downstairs and make coffee
It will not burn me
Cause I fear I will already have burned out

I would stop all my
Lying, but it is my sole
Attempt to forget.