with no direction or purpose,
we find ourselves
wallowing in pools of
self-pity.
we find ourselves longing
for those who whisper spurious words of affection.
after all it has always been better to have someone to hold
on those cold nights
than
being alone.

it starts in the winter,
with the darkness that swirls
in my head.
and its all a blur,
and i am nothing but a mess,
lying on the floor amongst the
shattered glass
of your tears.

and my words are not bound by
rhymes and other silly little things,
they are my thoughts,
raw
and scrambled.
they are my wounds that
i pick at with every word,
but they are my wounds that
heal with every sentence
the ink of my pen spits.

it is those thoughts of you
that remain,  
they plague me to
the point of insanity;
still, i want nothing but    
to hear your voice and feel
your body close to mine.

you,
are my downfall.

and suddenly my throat runs
dry and
my hands still their typing,
the mask finally falls.

and underneath it all i am just
    m e .
the girl who forgets words
and doesn't finish her sentences,
the girl who finds catharsis in
words of sadness and the
sound of glass shattering .

i am just me, the girl who bleeds
in ink and cries with words.
the brave girl who never sheds tears
but silently dies inside,
because she understands that
all of this means nothing.

underneath it all
I am
just
bones.

nothing   m o r e ,
nothing   l e s s.

maybe if i hold my breath for a little while longer
everything would start to fade and
my vision would start with a tinge of darkness
to black out your face as
you spit out your words of hatred
that must taste so foul falling from your lips
but don't worry, darling, i know you're afraid of showing kindness
so i'll turn them into words of affection
(and maybe all i wanted was to feel worthy of
something other than the sadness that had started to
gnaw its way inside my mind to the point of contentment)

I wish that I could
purge you from
my mind.