Love is delicate and beautiful. Think of it as a flower. If you dont treat it right it will wilt and die. And sometimes even when you do everything perfectly,  it still dies. But thats okay. You take a petal from the dead flower and press it into your scrap book. You move on and plant another flower. You will love romantically but only if you open up. You are a very closed off person.  You cant expect others to love you when you dont show them anything to love. You are loveable and I love you. You will **** a lot of relationships and thats okay but one day you will find one that you would rather die yourself than to watch that flower wilt.

Maybe we're not meant to be.
Maybe our last departure should have been all.
Maybe fate ******* up.
Maybe that day in the restaurant I never go to was fate.
Maybe fate didn't ***** up.
Maybe we are meant to be.
Maybe I'm delusional.

The blackboard had been wiped clean
of all the equations and answers.
All but one question remained.
"Why Are You Here?"

My first thought was
I'm here to try and
keep myself out of
there.

I'm here to bring
attention to
the broken hearts,
the alcoholic writers
and the dreams we
never share.

I'm here to show my face
and prove to them that
I am  everything  they
could not  ****.

I'm here to read the works
the mad men left
behind.
I'm here for the ******,
the ***** and the one
night stands.

I'm here to fall in love
and fall out of favor.

I'm here to use as much
as I can without dying.

I'm here to break their laws
and  to expose all those who claim
to understand this vision.

I'm here to **** them off and
provide them with  reasons
to speak thy name in vain.

I'm here to steal from
the rich and keep it.

I'm here to write it
all down without
losing my mind or my life.

I'm here to avoid the crowds
and admire the
empty city streets at midnight.

I'm here to burn the red candles and
fear not the coming age.

I'm here for what lays beyond
the ice.
Here to share the
secrets they  all **** to keep.

I'm here to give thanks to
La Muerte, Little Martha
and The Skinny girl.

I'm here for the girls who
sing alone and shiver at the memories
of growing up  in a broken home.

I'm here to write something that the
Convicts and the Delinquents could
both relate to.

I'm here for that Raven haired
girl with the perfect bangs and
sculpted brows.
The girl who smiled her Blood red lips
and called me Dangerous.

I'm here to write about the Hummingbird,
the lonely Writer  and the habit that
killed a certain girls everything.

I'm here to laugh as they
all cry.
Here to cheer over their hissing sounds.
Here to celebrate at their time of mourning.

I'm here to be as far apart
from all of you as I can.

I'm here for the invitation
that I never received.

I'm here to take the
blame and provide an escape.

Here to prove her right when
she was oh so wrong.

I'm here to act as if I didn't know.
Here to play with the
guilt that plagues them in their sleep.

Here for the Latch key kids
and unwanted dogs.

I'm here for DMT ,the LSD
and the secrets they both
hold but never tell.

I'm here even though
most times I wish I  wasn't.

I'm here all alone
although it
wasn't always this way.

I'm here to try and put these
words in their place.

Here to keep their spirits
up while trying to keep
my own from dying.

Here to fill the pages the young
will read tomorrow.

Here to share what it is I do
without exposing my true sorrows.

I'm here to finish what they  
started without mimicking their style.

I'm here to keep them
on their toes while
concentrating on tomorrow.

I'm here to remove the  Globe
from all curriculum's.

Here to put an ending to
all of the foolish lies.

I'm here to answer your questions
as honestly I can.

I'm here today but can be gone
tomorrow.

I don't know what we're all
doing here,
I can only speak
for me.

Thine leaves art wilted, flying to and fro,
And thy limbs reach out as if in sorrow.
"Dost thou not remember what once was held?”
Thy branches crack whilst leaves into dance meld.
The moon doth rise as children’s laughter rings.
Through the night thy old hollow solemnly sings
Of twisted grins and melancholy wolf cries,
And how every man thee meet sadly dies.
But thy eternal heartbreak shall not wane
Thy every breath will be met with pure pain;
Death shall not return thee to its icy grip.
Forevermore, thou shalt bring people to Death.
Until the rope that hangs on thine branch cease,
Cursed to be known only as The Hanging Tree.

Your love for this girl has been noted,
processed and rejected.
Try again at another time.

Your love for this girl has be noted,
error in transmission.
Try again at another time.

Your love for this girl has been noted,
message failed,
Try again at another time.

Your hatred for this girl has been noted,
message sent.

Your apology for this girl has been noted,
processed and rejected.

Circuit overload.
Do not try again.

His words said he loved me
But his hands told another story
His eyes saw right through me
And his soul was just hungry.
He was hungry for love
But he didn't know what that was
He had seen it in movies
And felt it growing up...
But the love that he needed
Was stolen from him
By another past lover
Who turned out to be a witch.
What she took from his soul
He could not find in anyone
So he scours the earth
Still in hope that someone,
Possesses the power
To fill that void inside
And no matter how many women he holds
He is still left empty by night.
He held me and I knew this
But I thought I could save him
I thought that maybe our voids together
Would help us both feel less broken.
But he moved on so quickly
Before I could try
That witch, how I loathe her
For what she has done to his life.