you focus on the pills,
I try to stop the fading,
I've been fading,

and the thing that breaks my heart the most,
is You love me with your demons,
and I take it in,
I take you in.
every time.

and there's bruises on my arm love,
from another fight once one,
just to be lost again.

And you, you find lovers in smoke covered rooms,
and the demons run rampant,
and you leave me,
worrying at home,
all alone,
ever alone.

You say,"you do not own me, you cannot control me"

and you carry you modge podge jaded notions of romance,
around like it's a suitcase, to wear and tear,

but you light my fire from the outside in,
proving your the one to make me feel,
you smile like the crooked monster you've become,
now your smiles don't even meet my eyes,

and "baby baby baby..."
you promise me rainbows and picket fences after every time.
its the line, I've bought it,
and for every step you take a yard,

there are scars to prove it,
I have scars to prove it.

And there are days i wear them like stitches,
they hold the broken pieces
of this broken heart,

still there are other days where the light of a new days dawning,
and I can pass the etch a sketch on my skin
as creative badges,
ugly to be sure,
reluctant trails to nowhere safe,
and lines to color in.

BUT I refuse to be your prisoner, so please sir, watch me leave.

If my words could kiss you,
I wouldn't stop talking.
If my silence could speak,
I wouldn't say a thing.

If my steps could love you,
I wouldn't stop walking.
If your fingers could listen,
they'd hear my skin sing.

I run my fingers over the scars,
that line your wrist,
and I smile,
thinking that they are parking spots,
for my wayward hands.

and your voice I hear it still,
and I follow the sound of your whispers,
dancing in the echo of my hollowed out heart,
and my innocence reverberates against all I know,
against all I know now.

we laid together under a canopy of stars,
and the fear of getting caught the mosquitoes of our existence.
we stood close to the fire hoping we'd get burnt,
seeking the danger in desire, just to feel,
and we exchanged hearts communicable disease...

the split wasn't even..
it never was.

If someone wrote a book about me,
about my life,
it would be boring.
It would be the same thing everyday with occasional flare ups of happiness and love.
The ending would be good though.
The part where the main character kills himself, that will make the book.
Up until the final chapter it will be boring but you have to read it.
You have to understand.
You have to understand why the book must end.

Today, I had an urge to tell you that I will write a poem about you.
I told you and you embraced me. I held you tight, careful to not get my burning cigarette in your hair.

You make me happy, which is something I haven't been able to say to anybody in a long time.
And it's constant, it's everlasting. It's beautiful.
I'll giggle and I feel like I'm high.
I am high, but I have not smoked.
Yeah, that's corny and I do not give a single care.
But I give two cares about you.
And I give three cares about holding your hand, not squeezing it too hard.
And I give four cares about holding your body close to mine.
And I give five cares about kissing you.
And I give six cares about us.
And I give seven cares about your hair, not lighting it on fire, or touching it too much.
And I give eight cares about nothing. I'm just not capable.
But if I could, I think they would be about you.

And I took for granted your love dear,
I trampled the edges of your heart,
And I sink my teeth into your raw parts,

you've paper mache-d back together,
made with the feelings you hide,
and the bits and pieces you despise.

AND WE ARE BROKEN.

broken parts,
angles, and points,
ragged edges,
like our ragged breath,
we fight the war,
we live,
everyday,
fighting the existence,

We live for the moment we stop and feel,
and I have been  living my tomorrows today,
in search of the escape of my sorrows,
and I've been planning my life like I'm already late.

I hung mistletoe
I heard you were in town
visiting your parents,
or something.
I cleaned my house
and I shaved
and I bought three packs of cigarettes.
I sat in my room,
by the phone,
smoking cigarettes,
waiting for you to call.
Finally,
4 packs,
and two days later you did
and I picked up
before the first ring ended.
And the second I heard your voice say "hello"
I hung up.

I met him today
At first he was distant,
nothing but darkness
Then he walked slowly
over the hills
That was when he saw me.
Benevolent bursts of love,
affection
adoration
warmth...
I was engulfed with his presence.
All that was left was to give in,
to run to him and cry.
Whither away to nothing in his arms
only ro be born again as a child,
innocent and ignorant to anything
less than this celestial being
holding me
encapsulating me
keeping me safe,
at last.
I am home Father,
raise me up to be as stunning as you,
with your kind face,
and your sun beam hair.

the eyes are probably the truest--
but even my dad said that people
may see colors differently