Loneliness and bitterness
fill her empty shell

Her lying words of love
slowly craft her hell

Trapped within the cell
of dark and twisted brain

All that she can ever give
is cold uncaring pain

Not a tendril of tender emotion
can reach into that soul

Except her own self pity
Poured endlessly down that hole

The poet sits in lamplit gloom
alone in ebb and flow
how strange it seems to write of love
but never feel it's glow

A sigh, a lie, a broken heart,
a kiss on untouched skin
yet still this writers heart it sits
uncharted deep within.

The poet sits in lamplit gloom
and stares at paper bare,
then puts to it her broken heart
and leaves it bleeding there.

but how do you hate someone that makes every particle in your body sing at the slightest glance?

I remember the time you stood outside my door
in a suit and tie and asked my parents for permission to take me out

I remember the flowers you gave me
and the smile on your face
and the way your eyes glistened in the pale glow of the moon

I remember the scent of you and the cliche romantic gestures
I assured you you didn't have to do, but you said that a lady deserves a gentleman

I remember that was the first day my scars were visible
and I was so afraid you would be disgusted and angry

I remember your hands travelling up my arms and tracing over the marks
red, raised, recent

I remember you telling me
I was the most beautiful thing you've ever seen
and I remember how you held me as I cried
because no one had ever cared before
not ever

I want you to know that I understand
I see the sadness in your eyes
I see the emptiness and longing
It's familiar and painful
and I want more than anything
to make it better for you,
but I'm still trying to stay afloat too
and in trying to help you
we'd both drown