They say missing someone is
a lot like pins and needles into your heart
but I don't remember missing you
when you were gone,
I missed you when we were together
I feel nothing but emptiness I filled in the spot where you once were in my heart

and that's comfort to put my pale skin to the mattress from now until the rest of time

The path of this waterfall is abruptly misdirected by the boulders that have been placed throughout her destination
Where is she going ? She's crashing, her smooth flow is screaming because of these obstacles that she slithers and forms around, she still has a place to be
She flows until she can't anymore; what determines her arrival ? Where does the water lead once it falls? Where is she going? She doesn't know but she keeps flowing
She's screaming and no one can make out what she's saying because she's crying violently and that pain flows past them
they just hear her noise as a faint distraction in the distance because they cant stop and open their ears to actually listen
Appreciate the beauty because it always comes with pain
And her pain is aspiration to flow throughout the day
I'm watching these rocks, her water smashes against them violently she wants them to move but she's not dense enough to push them out of her way and they can't move because their placement too has a purpose that is meant to guide her away but instead she keeps heading in her straight shoot path, she's just adapted to avoiding the misconception
I can see the way these rocks have manipulated her path, im watching, and parts of her flow to a dead end
the water is still and the forces used to keep her pushing through has worked against her to interrupt her journey but she's fighting through and she's battling to get to where she needs to be
She doesn't know where, it's clear to see but she knows she needs to get somewhere and although parts of her have been abandoned and have settled and stopped rushing she aches to keep going and that determination keeps her flowing

You will meet a boy and the color of his eyes will remind you of poetry.*
I loved him, purely, and unconditionally
But there’s nothing beautiful about the bruises his hands left
Or the acid in his voice that singed my temples .
There’s nothing beautiful about self destruction
There’s nothing beautiful about sleepless nights just to make your body experience deprivation
There's nothing beautiful about the stomach full of pills that replaced the well balanced meal
There's nothing beautiful about loving a narcissist.
I used to be okay with the seemingly never-ending pain of loving someone who couldn't reciprocate
I was no better than a kicked dog
Limping back with my tail between my legs, seeking a gentle touch
I spit idea of you out and the aftertaste was just as bad
You were a cascade of of destruction and i was a thrill seeker

Twitched strings, the clang of metal, beaten drums; dull, shrill, continuous, disquieting. The stealthy dancer comes undulant with cat-like steps that cling. The smile of evil crept between her painted lids, a smile. Motionless, unintelligible, she twines her fingers into mazy lines, the scarves across her fingers twine the while.
One, two, three, four glide forth, and, to and fro, delicately and imperceptibly.
You could hear the seraphs cry in between the swift dessous topped off with a jeté.
The observers watched every move, they have no idea what the young coryphée has in store.
A crimson blade covered her legs during every hypnotizing glide and sway; a matching blade for every female in the assembly, they wouldn't move from their spots on stage. They formed a pentagram with their swords; they were each so beautiful. So mesmerizing for the crowd to be graced with such pure refinement. The lead dancer gave a gesture and that's when it happened.
The girls twirled, gravitated away from their positions. Blood covers the entire floor like the rain falling; drenching the ground, dark red blood seeps into the nice hardwood floor. A body lays dead and bled out. They compiled a dance of death and evil, every pirouette sliced into the already rotted flesh. Slabs of skin thrown across the platform, horrified viewers didn't speak. Gruesome, yet beautiful. They finished and returned to their previous, assigned places of formation and the only sound is that of the maggots eating away at the rotting flesh, swallowing bites at a time adding more to the foul smell of decay.
The eyes burned onto the stage, heat built up. No one said a word; no one knew what they were suppose to say. Is it all an act? It must be, these things don't just happen, right? A few vomited because of the gut wrenching stench that overwhelmed the room.
The dancers eyes never left the floor, she simply bowed and twirled off stage; Her legs were never visible but you could see the foot prints forming behind her, they were made from blood.

It burns so much to think that his hands touched another girls' the way they touched me
I waited for him and he took advantage of me never being able to say no
and I couldn't smell the cinnamon whiskey on his breath because I was already drowning in it
but he could never touch me unless he threw a few back

Two people could never have been more in love than the two of us. A spark at first glance, suddenly roaring as a huge fire. At every moment we'd tell the other how much we loved them and how we wish they'd never leave. Two hearts and two minds, completely intertwined. But now it feels different. The light in your eyes has gone. My smile wiped from your mind. Is this what love is? A flurry of passion then nothing? I thought love was to be shared, nurtured over time, a never ending passion. As I lay here seemingly forgotten, in endless confusion, It seems "love" is just a syllable, it's meaning lost to history and its intent ignored in the doldrum of life. It is why I now ask: Do you even remember my name?