If you wake tomorrow
And I am gone,
Then know that I
Will be in some safer place,
And won't not return
No more.

If you wake tomorrow
But light is dim,
You will me not behold
For my silhouette is just a veil,
Flowing in the wind,
Evermore.

If you wake tomorrow
A little colder,
And my shadow is
The only fragment left of me,
I have your dreams
Restored.

If you wake tomorrow
To a silence,
Leaving you trembling
The voice you hear is not me,
But a sigh deploring in
Your core.

I know they've been sung about many times before

Cursed at more times than I've breathed in oxygen

And I know they'll be here for longer than I'll be

And they'll go in their own time, winking out without flare,

But now, if they could feel the cavern gaping in my chest,

Deeper and blacker than dark matter,

If they could hear this scream, supersonic, ultrasound,

They would simply cease to exist.

Blood drips daily.

I say I feel nothing
Don't want to draw attention
From those who suffer openly.

I am strong, but I am weak,
And I can't admit defeat.
Not to you, whose face is so **** smug,
All the time.

Let me be the bite that tears your flesh
And let me cry acidic love,
It will cauterise me, eventually.

I'm coming for you.
We have many years left to live,
You and I.

Unless you end it now.
Coward.

You sit at a piano
We're outside and we're cold.

We're talking about second chances
Now we're apart, now we're old.

I feel your shoulders. You got more toned.
In contrast to anorexia, my fingers have gotten fat.

I miss you, you miss me,
I leave. Almost.

And then you say, you still have to work on things,
The way you talk, what you think, and what you want.

And I am proud of myself for getting angry
For throwing your pride and prejudice right back at you.

I say that you're not perfect either
Your voice, your touch, and your respect for me:

I've had better. But I still want you.
And I know it. And I'm glad you know it now.

Lead me to grace
Allow me to be an angel
An angle in a line
180 degrees perfect symmetry with you

What is love?
Is it an abstract?
Black white blue?
Cheesy and tacky?
Or something sinister.

I remember being me.
What's it like to be you?
Somebody asked me once, and I said it was... normal.

But in truth, it was like having this massive black hole of power in my core.

Being me:
Knowing that if I didn't smile at someone of a morning
They'd spend the rest of the day hating their brain, thinking their name was on everybody's lips
For all the wrong reasons.

Being me:
Knowing that if I wore heels and a tank top,
A girl two years younger than me would start to tweet
About wanting to diet
Not an hour after we say our goodbyes, me towering over her as I hug her loosely,
Because my ribs would hurt her otherwise.

Being me:
Knowing I have some wash of beauty on my features
Knowing my impossible curves rival Helen of Troy's
And knowing my detachment meant the end
Between me and my only honest friend.

Being me:
Never asked to do anything,
Because it was obvious I was too busy, my hands too soft.
But secretly lonely, and outside plotting plants with my father,
Because he's the best girlfriend I've ever had.

Being me:
Painting pretty pictures.
Well done darling girl.
Do you want to see my book of self portraits?
They're perfectly ugly, in black and white, and I love every one.

Being me:
Hating every girl who looks at you funny
Saying no to every other guy,
Because I'm waiting for the day you look at me funny.
Saying yes to everything you ask, because I'm stupid, and I'll play your games
Though you're not perfect.

Being me:
Saying goodbye to all my friends last May,
And not hearing from a single one of those petty people.
I think they'd had enough of pretty people.
And I think I can say the same.

I remember being me.

Being vibrant.
Being brighter than the sun.
Being much too harsh to look at.

What was it about you?
Off in my mind dreaming that i would have you
What was i thinking?

Whatever it was it's gone now
Off to some distant guy who will crush on you
Wow, thats all i can say just WOW