excitement rushes through my veins
hold me close in the rain
let the rain wash away my fear
whisper in my ear
send shivers down my spine
oh, you're fatally mine

I have given fragments of myself to people
who have only broken them into smaller pieces;
at this point my skeleton is made more of paper
thin apologies and not actual bones so when
I become an avalanche of emotions I've convinced
myself I don't feel and anxiety, when even the
shadows that still manage to scare me have managed
to fall asleep but I still haven't, there is nothing left
to turn to but this poem. and I don't know what this is.
I could call it an ode to all the people that have decided
I am just a damaged garden and there is nothing poetic
about planting flowers where the sun does not exist but
even then that would insist there were people willing to
plant weeds in abandoned graveyards
in the first place.
maybe I am selfish.
maybe it is wrong to want people to stay;
how could I have ever expected you
to love me when I never loved myself?
all I have are memories.
people I can only write stanzas about.
letters I can only read over and over again trying to
convince myself that I must've mattered.
I have given fragments of myself to people who have only
broken them into smaller pieces. this poem is probably
just an ode to my imagination for actually believing my
relationships with them were ever anything more
than just that, fragments

(h.l.)

I still think of you, you know
     in the dead of night,
     in the quietest hours,
     in the lonesome dark

I still dream of you, you know
     in my midnight slumber,
     in my subconscious life,
     in my somnambulistic searching

I still long for you, you know
     when I feel that itch,
     when relationships fail,
     when I crave attention

I still think of you, you know -- Do you ever think of me?

Forsworn am I, yet doomed to die,
Lest I deny myself and cast off my pride,
Humbling myself in His righteous eye.
My path is clear, but I can't move forward,
Held back by myself, ensnared in my fear.
Unworthy and hypocritical,
I throw myself at Your mercy as I make my petition;
"Please, raise this prodigal son from perdition."