My mother always kept a supply of chocolate and rain boots close.  

I never questioned her morals because mother knew best.

I realised down the line , after many attepmts to work it out , she showed me her love in many different ways.

There was no problem chocolate couldn't fix , sometimes chocolate wasn't enough so she would hand me my rain boots and tell me to go stand in the rain .

She would join me and  hold her hands out , palms facing upwards towards the sky that was crying, I would copy her stance and hope I understood.

I never quite liked the feel of wet hair draped against my neck , wrapping around my face , it always resembled a tangled mess.

But my mother always looked content with the rain pouring down , beating off her chest.

She often told me life had a peculiar way of showing you what needed to be done.

So with her hair wrapped around her face, getting caught in her mouth, the water dripping off her chin a smile would appear.

She told me good things come in three but so dose the bad, she told me don't hold your nose up in the air unless you plan on smelling the rain .

She looked at me and said " rain is good, it washes away everything , i hope you learn from this "

We would go in and hang up our coats , make sure to wipe our  boots , she really did love that wooden floor.

Years on I released something that I'm sure she knows herself, rain can cause a mess , but like she always said " wipe your feet on the mat darling , the past is in the past"

365
Three simple numbers, a lot of meaning.
365 the number of freckles scattered over your body
365 the amount of times you told me you loved me in one day
365 the last 3 didgits of your cell number
365 the amount of times I watched your chest rise and fall until I fell asleep

365 the total ammount of days since you left
365 May no longer be the amount of freckles you have, she may have found one I missed
365 the amount of times you've said you loved her, it may have multiplied or tripled
365 no longer your last three digits, believe me I've checked

365 days of living without you
365 has tore me down and brought me to hell and back
365 no longer stands for the total number of days in a year
365 stands for how may days my heart has broken and how may times you've said goodbye

Never once in my life did I ever think about what the stars in the night sky would look like behind your head,
We're both just burnt out,
Too exhausted by what life has thrown at us,
Each curve ball has taken a curve of us with it ,
You jumped over the cracks in my heart like the cracks in your life,
I'm sorry I'm not her,
I'm sorry for all the wrongs I could never make right,
But I'm not sorry for the way that I feel,
In the state where I could never feel anything, where I was as good as dead you were the very thing that made me feel most alive,
For that I thank you.
Sorry but I'm not sorry.

Mould has grown in the places you used to touch .

Darling what a terrible thing that is.

I was once a rose with so many thorns but have turned into nothing but a fungus , a ****  , nothing but a disaster.

You came to me with your edges so sharp willing to cut off my petals if things got too much .

I let you in and moulded myself around you , my vines intertwined with your limbs trying to make us one.

You never liked the felling of another pressed against you , never quite understood how one could stay in the same place for such a length of time without wanting to expand further and Interrupt another's path.

What you didn't know was I gave you everything , I shed my petals to give you a bed of roses , but it seemed my path wasn't good enough nor my petals bright enough or even my vines intertwined with your limbs enough to make you stay.

So I sit here , as my body withers with nothing but a fungus to keep me warm , I intertwine my body with the mould given and hope that one day you will come back , with your edges not so sharp and sinful and tell me how bright my petals were and how sorry you are for making me nothing more than a notch in your bedpost.

I said I never liked commitment , I've said it half my life .

When you first met me I made it clear I was bitter and would only use you for the night..

You took me on broken and bruised and picked me up piece by piece .

I told you you would cut yourself I will most defiantly leave.

You looked at me and said it was okay because you needed new scars.

You picked me up bit by bit , cut yourself on the shattered parts.

Told me you loved me every day and every night.

You never really knew if I heard you so you made sure to say it twice.

Commitment was never for me you would always here me say.

But you never quite understood how I could my ink my skin but not let you stay.

You choose to leave me and that's fine .

I hope I see you soon , well maybe not today , or tomorrow , or even in a year , but eventually you're going to turn up and realise the damage has been done .

It has taken me years of scratching at my skin , opening up my wounds with fresh heartache from another bitter night with another guy, you see it's not considered a one night stand , no , never, it's more of an audition but nobody ever gets a call back.  They made me half believe that for a few hours I was the one they need , but little did they know in reality we both just wanted to be held in another's arms no matter how foreign they felt.

Now all I can do is lay on my bed , fall asleep , hope that dreams of you and I never come to  mind then wake up and do nothing about it .

I want to set a good example for my younger sister.
I want to be the reason she won't cry alone but instead confine in somebody, I want to help her understand that good things come in threes but so do bad things and her hands will never catch all the hurt in the world no matter how hard she tires.
I'll tell her sometimes somebody has to save you for a change , you cant always be the superhero.

Little girl you'll get confronted with so many deamons at once you won't have a choice but to clock out of life
But that's okay , because I'll always be here
You may think that seeing me cheer on the sidelines is embarrsing but I want you too feel loved.
That's all baby girl, just a whole lot of love.

I feel like I was given a second chance at life.
I was given this struggle so I can find a way to overcome it or work around it, I was always told I could talk myself out of my own death.

The purpose of it all was to make me stronger but **** , some days are great and some are so bad I don't even know who I am anymore.
That's the joy of living I guess. Maybe , I dont know anymore.
I'm a complete ****** up mess and I'm one hell of a storm once I get started but there is a few things I know out of everything I don't-
When I love I love with all I have
When I give I give everything I can

I guess I was just built differently than others, maybe a piece was missing or one was too big so the edges had to be cut down to size and somewhere along the way it went wrong but I was still put here and for that I will never deny myself the simple pleasures of life.