Sometimes I want to take her up in my arms
and feel like a man,
because I'm a lot bigger than her
and my hands dwarf hers,
but we both know I can't.

My heart rises up to my throat
when I think of her
and it swells from the love I hold so dear
and it breaks when I remember that I can't be close to her.

I'm not close enough to stroke her knotted hair,
and I'm not close enough to make sure nobody hurts her.
She can protect herself sometimes, and I know she isn't hurt as Much as I am angry when she is insulted.

Their jokes about me loving her hardly seem like jokes now,
and I might just be a bit high on pain or hunger or maybe it's just the lonely hurt,
but I want to hold her
and love her,
but I have to know that it isn't possible.
A love between us is impossible,
however much I wish I could be a man to her, for her, just to simply be
for her.

if my brain was bigger
and i had more room up there
youd think id fill it with important stuff
facts and ideas to share
like maybe science, math, and tech
or art and lit instead
but no, for me, whats worth the most
is remembering every sweet thing youve said

Go asphyxiate yourself

On your dilusional thought of love
One day you'll find the one

And all your problems will dissolve

Your happily ever after

The true perfect match
that you cant spend a waking hour without dreaming of how much they mean to you

Grow old with
Every second of your life as long as you both shall live

Scrap book with and share vows of love
Love
   Love

Your fairy tail ending with your Cinderalla and Prince Charming

Search for the eternal solution to loneliness

Your soulmate
     Your other half

True love will set you free


Is that right?



Go **** yourself

theres a trail out there
and shattered glass at the top of its hill
made it all the way up
just to be left broken and ***** at the finish line
im sorry
not because youre broken
(being broken isnt so bad)
but because all you can see is the dust that coats you
i promise
all your pieces make a window
and all the stars make a sky
and all this dust makes the adventure of a lifetime

fall back into the midnight grass
where are you?....... it doesn't matter
lie still as your luminescent irises reflect
glittering pinpoints in the night sky
graph them all in your gridded mind
a glorious correlation of novas and dark mist
calculations in the cold
PAIN as a star explodes spontaneously
light years away, undetectable
to most
but PAIN ONLY PAIN as your lungs…
they explode inside you
an unpredictable gone unmeasured.
your frozen head falls
90 degrees
shattered cochlea inches off of holy ground

streams of a Savior's blood on the temple floors
cracks of a whip echo off the marble
fresh splinters wedge themselves in the cracks
in the skin
in the soul
the screams and tears go mute for a moment
His moment
to look up from afar
and into these black, clouded eyes
this black, clouded heart
the same weight on His back the same weight in His gaze
the same pain in his crown the same pain in the irises
that bore into blackness and flood it with
glorious light
glorious light
and effortless omniscience of all the terror
of the hell that has entered into the holy place
and stained it with despair
except for the eyes that contain visions of eternal hope
and they are staring at me

Like an old friend inviting you to come inside.
Familiar. Comforting.
It will grasp you in its arms and hold you close;
And when you're ready to leave, it wont let you go.
You will beg and plead to be happy,
and it will put up a fight.
It will make you think that the only way to escape it is to take your own life.
If you are lucky, you can break free;
and it will sit and watch you from afar.
Calling your name.
Welcoming you back into it's arms.
It will intrude your thoughts.
Make you think you are worthless.
That you're better off dead.
Just keep telling yourself that it's all in your head.
Keep moving. You will get far.
Depression is not who you are.

For a few months,
you’ll think you’re making progress;
don’t fool yourself,
You haven’t even started.
Everything will smell like him.
Your pillow,
your clothes,
even the air.
You'll even still have their cards and photos
lined upon your bedside table.
You'll get drunk,
and you'll send them poems you wrote,
and songs that remind you of them.  
They'll tell you you’re a good writer,
and this will be the last real thing
they ever say to you.
You'll find you won't be able to write
if it's not about them,
they still plague your mind,
your thoughts,
and your dreams.
The first poem you write that’s not about them
will feel like victory at last.
It won’t be.
They'll always find a way
to slither back into your words.
Your friends will keep listening to you weep,
as they weep over the one that got away too.
They come and go in the middle of your favorite songs,
between each beat you see their smile,
and their beauty in every piece of art;
their beauty in every stroke.
Whenever someone asks you what your favorite color is,
you just want to say 'their eyes'.
They light up like a lake in twilight,
like the moon you shared your first kiss below.
You'll want to go back there for closure.
You still haven’t done it yet.
You aren’t ready to let go.
If you do go you know it'll only make it worse.
And for the rest of your life,
you will be hoping to meet someone
as magical as them.
Every soul that catches your eye,
you won’t really be looking at them.
You’ll be searching for them.
You’ll never find them again.