A riptide
Pull me under and send me away
A million miles of water
And I'm drowning

And the worst part is
I was so caught up in all my pain
I was so selfish
I couldn't see that you were hurting too

Nobody cares

and I wish to be dead

I cannot fall asleep.

The monsters in my head,
won't stop screaming.

They scream for
sweet release.

The feeling of cool sharp metal
against my warm wrist.

The dark red color of my blood.

I yell and scream for them to stop.

But they do not listen.

I comfort them in the only way I can,
without breaking the promise I made.

I imagine slitting my wrists,
the dark, dark red slipping from them.
Then laying down on the cold tile,
and drifting away.
Never waking.

I weep as they smile,
finally at peace.

I made a promise I intended to keep,
but I don't think I can any longer.

As they sleep,

I slip off into the dark
to find that silver blade
and cut my skin.

They're winning.

I'm stuck

walking towards something that you don't believe in,
seeking the non-existent possibility.

Love.

You say that I'm beautiful
that you want every last part of me.

But if that is true,
why am I left out in the dark calling your name?

You've abandoned me,
to suffer a perpetual existence
between being happy in love
or
left to live without it.

You know I won't leave you,
so you put me on your shelf
to be taken out on your rainy days,
because,
to you,
my love is simply a toy to play with.

Those rainy days are my best,
being played with and getting your attention
makes me soar.

It gives me hope that maybe,
someday,
I won't be put back on the shelf.
That my love will be enough for you.

And until that day,
or the day I break,
I will sit happily on your shelf,
collecting dust

Waiting for my love to be returned by you in it's fullest.
My one and only.

don't create distance between us,
like painting oceans between the skies & lands
unreachable,
like,
branches caging you from beneath your deepest
secrets.
and no amount of rain is enough to make the
drought in my eyes leave, like all the people
we said goodbye to
at train stations & graveyards
that soon became as empty & cold as
the bottles she'd drowned her sorrows into;
setting skins on fire & smoking death into the lungs
like snow-kissed bodies whispering love songs to ghosts
oh dear Bukowski, girls like her don’t learn to
walk through fires
they are fire-lungs & burnt skies,
haunted nursery rhymes bleeding out of souls
like volcanoes & violin screams.