I know you do not love
the space in my mind
nor do you love
the demon that lives there.
If we had met sooner
perhaps you could have been the lifeboat
sent out to save me
from my drowning depression.
I'm sorry for knowing you
and bringing you in to this;
I'm sorry I asked you to save me
in my own silent cry for help.
I know I am hard to love
and understand if you can't bring yourself
to love me.
Trust me,
I find it hard enough to even exist.
I wish you were there
when the darkest shadows creep through my head
isolating me from everything.
I wish you were there
when the cigarettes aren't enough
and turn in to some kind of self-infliction;
punishing myself for hurting others.
I would rather sink in to
the safe confines of your arms
than sink in to my sadness once more.
I'm sorry I couldn't be stronger than this,
and I'm sorry that you're all I think about.
I'm sorry that you're the only thing making me want to breathe,
hoping I could catch your scent in the air
which would pull me out of this
so that I can devote my time to loving you
rather than finding reasons to live.
Writing hasn't saved me.
Nobody has tried to save me,
but I need you
to save me.

There will come a time
when you are sick of trying
to understand my wrists
and my mind
and how I am more than one person
when I do this.
I know you will become sick
of saving me
and that you will regret knowing my mind.
You will not miss
my selfishness
or inconsideration when I do this
and you will not miss the 2am phone calls
that come with trying to love me.
You will hurt
when I push you away
and flinch at your touch
and you will hurt
when I isolate myself
and hate myself.
You will leave when I try to love you
and you will leave
when I lose it.
You will leave
and you will not come back--

*I am not worth the fight.

I fell in love
with the way your hand
wrapped around my waist when the crowds were violent;
this hand was not to ****** me
but to protect me--
to love me.

Tonight,
you said goodnight four times
and called me 'darling'.
If only I could walk upstairs
and find you there
to kiss and hold
and watch in gentle slumber.

I am in love
with the way your hands move;
how they caress
and trace
and adore.
I could fall asleep inside those hands,
keeping me safe until I wake up
to your wandering eyes.

I felt you
before I saw you;
your almighty presence filling the room,
filling me.
I turned and met your eyes;
blazing green prisons
that confine me,
emerald pools
that drown me.
I move closer,
and you smile that
all-knowing smile,
wrapping your arm around my waist
feeling the bone of my hip
your hand moving down
stroking my thigh whilst I quiver.
How can this be wrong?
These feelings I have when you enter a room,
when you touch me,
when you know me...
how can they be wrong?
Your fingertips dance over my body,
tattooing your name under my forbidden skin
scarring your lust in to my heart.
I look up
to meet those burning eyes once more
and we lose ourselves for a moment;
your lips almost grazing mine
longing for a silent lament of love
in the form of a kiss,
getting ever closer to fulfilling your desire until...

You stop.
You pull away.
You swallow your love.
You walk away
from what is sinful
tempting
and above all--

*forbidden.