i miss you
all the time
i want you to be happy
you make me happy
i love you
i dont know how
or why
i just do
i love your smile
it lights me up inside
and i love your laugh
it makes me giggle
i love the way you make me feel
so grown up but still young and free
i love he way you touch me
like im something to be cherished
i love you
so much

I've lost my will
My need to speak
My words are just words
And my lungs have grown weak
There is no more beauty
To be spilled from my heart
My hands have gone stiff
Incapable of art

Do you ever wish to go back
To before we all died
Before the lights went dim
And we went out with the tide

i want to be loved
and held
and helped
i want to be
something small
to carry around in a lovers pocket
like a rock
a nice smooth
nearly round rock
like a squished oval in shape
i want someone to look at me
for hours
discovering and observing
but never judging
i want someone
who sees the cracks in my stone skin
and runs their thumb over them
cherishing the contrast
from light to dark
i want the tiny dimples and spots on my face
to be seen like glittering minerals
embedded in stone
trapped from years of movement and change
i want someone to look at me
and see my journey
appreciate the things hidden within

i want to be loved
the way i loved
when i was still young
and fun

i dont want to be pretty or perfect
i dont want to be loved
or held close and adored
i dont want to be her world
her sunshine, her favorite person

i dont want people to depend on me
it hurts too much to let them down

i dont want those memories back
of being wrong, feeling evil and disgusted with myself
i never want to see those guilty scars
the ones i used to write anger on my arms

i dont want to hate myself
which means i cant let anyone love me

i realized something
recently

i don't care anymore
what people think of me

i love my friends
and i have real ones now
people that make me laugh
and never judge

they think of me

every goodbye
is followed by a hello
and every storm
has a ******* rainbow
im stupid
and im young
and i dont understand things like love
and im glad
that some six months ago
i survived myself
because yeah
life is worth living
more often than
it isnt

my poetry is not art anymore
it isn't expression
it isn't even honest
it's filtered and edited
so as not to be disturbing
or concerning
to any number of people
often all that is left of me then
is anger

but in truth
in a final attempt
at honesty in my art
I am lonely.
and confused and stupid and tired and heartbroken and homesick
and so many other human things

to be disgustingly honest
and simple minded
in the least amount of words
I love you