A steady minded person might tell you that everything can be measured, calculated and converted into a language of black and white, solutions worked out with sharpened pencils.

How do I measure my heart breaking?

Tell me,at what rate did my heartstrings snap when he told me he was leaving?
How long until all of my broken bones turn into dust?
Calculate at what speed the tears rolled down my checks.
How many doctors will it take to sew my heart back together?
Was it when he crumpled me up like a wasted idea etched onto a piece of notebook paper that everything started to bleed?
What part of my brain did his gentle hands touch that woke my monsters from their slumber?
How many days until this aching in my swollen chest turns into a gentle throb?
When will I be okay again?

Takes this pain and your sharpened pencils and rip the numbers from the dead hands of his name. Do away with the emotion like he did away with me.

Lose my keys.
Lose my sleep.
Lose my thoughts.
Lose my pride.
Lose my lover.
Lose my mind.
This is a skill I've mastered.
What I am is a loser.

Trust me darling it only hurts the first time.
The pain?
You'll lose that too.

you don't have to buy expensive things
you don't have to be skinny
and you don't have to show it off
you don't have to be taken
you don't have to tell why you're single
you don't have to wipe your tears,
and you don't have to be like the ones who put them there
you don't have to love someone
you don't have to love yourself
you really don't have to
the only one who's making you,
is yourself.

Would it tear you apart to know that I was clean for so long.
Would it tear you apart to know that the the number is back to zero.
Would it hurt if I told you how you woke up those monsters inside my head that all steer me towards steep cliffs of insanity.
Would it hurt you to know that I stepped off.
Would you cry knowing that you choosing her broke me.
Would you cry if you saw my shattered bones spelled your name.


No I don't think it would.
My screams are not silent, they are carved into my body, they erupt from my eyes but baby you never were one to notice how my heart bled for you.
Our love was a metaphor written in a language you didn't understand.





maybe you need to learn to read.

it's okay really,
it's okay that you can't commit
it's okay that it's been awhile since somebody wanted me
and it's okay if you decide you don't want to save me from these waves of loneliness that seem to have crashed over my head.
it's okay if you don't like to swim
I'll tell you that I'm easy, that it's okay if you don't want to kiss me goodbye, or hold my hand,
that I don't want you to.
and I'll tell myself it's okay to lie.
it's okay if you don't want to drink a glass of the sad songs  my broken heart will pour out for you.
it's okay.
it's okay.
it's okay really,
I'm not broken, just lonely.

People who fight
their battles alone
either lose the battle
or lose themselves.

The pain

Inside my brain

Is slowly driving

Me insane

I still can’t see

What leads

The way

I might be leaving you

Today

Although I might be gone

Please know I won’t be long

We’ll meet again one day