i don't miss you
let me establish this
the second guessing
the guilt
your overwhelming presence
i know i'm better off
it will never be you i miss
just the company

nothing is true and everything is bland
you're naive for thinking otherwise
we're force fed these stories
of princesses and castles and love and friendship
but nothing is true and everything is a lie
you'll thank me late for ripping that off
love will end and trust is dead
you're naive for wanting otherwise

when the tears overflow
shaking me to the core
hysteria, they call it
i don't realize that i am pulling my hair
until the strands are wrapped neatly around my fingers
and pulled from my face
mad woman syndrome i would have been diagnosed
if i lived in a different age
and i suppose its a fitting name
how else can i describe my world falling internally
white noise in the air
and flashes of lines clouding my vision
when i wake up and my voice has left
will i remember that i screamed

by the turn of the clock
i have not done as i said
my head and i have frailed
lonely and failed becomes

funny isn't it
been four years and suddenly i'm back
but it's not you this time
someone else
trust me, i'm shocked as well
it's actually really nice to like someone romantically
and still know that they don't feel the same way
there's no pressure
no labels to conform to
just my feelings and not theirs
and i think i prefer it this way

it doesn't get better
learn this now
if i can save you from the longing
endless nights when that's all you crave
you're wasting time
nothing gets better
only situations change
you were born alone and you'll die alone
i'll be with you
of course
but do not doubt that if given the chance
i would not hesitate to leave you

the last words she said to me
or rather, typed;
"no one will ever love you
in the same way i have."
and the reason i turn back to you
every other month or so
is because you make me,
along with the other sixty beaus,
feel the slightest bit loved

I am both a sadist and a *******
When it comes to myself

The brown-eyed boy, a beauty
A distraction
It develops and flourishes
I knock it down

The girl who sings, a star
A nuisance
The roots intertwine
I set the fire

At last
The red-haired girl, my past
My love
The seed begins to bloom
I salt the earth

pity we live in a seaside town
because i can't stand the smell
of those cheaply made and over sugared things
3 pounds for a bag of six
and we'd sit and eat them
not all mind you,
the doughy texture would always become too much
and we'd admit defeat before one of us lays claim to them
i wince every time my friends plead to get some
and offer them around
because nothing on this green earth
could ever remind me more of you

i prayed for this moment
longed for countless years
but the kisses aren't soft
nor tender
they burn and stain in ways i despise
every move feels clumsy and unnatural
you pull me close yet i want to throw you off
uncoordinated fumbling
your eyes no longer glisten but instead bore into me
but i smile and moan like i practiced
when i spent all those nights longing

define me as the wasted youth
the ungrateful living
dare i be a poet during the days of Wordsworth?
or shall i rot like the predecessors?
every day is a continuum
of me wanting you back
wishing away my youth and dreaming
of emptiness

when i was younger i used to believe
that every one is good or bad
no in between
catholic upbringing, you know the drill
now as i grow i realize
the lines are a lot more blurred than when first perceived
and sometimes it's good to be bad

it's fuzzy at the edges
my ground feels real but i'm sane enough to know better
real you wouldn't hold me like this
so gentle and tender
saying everything right and still making me laugh
your actions scream dream

when the blinding light returns
and i'm out and about
i see you
and i know you're real because you look away

i hate lana del ray for reasons beyond her control
I've never met the woman
i don't care about her personal life
nor how she spends her time
and i only listen to her when the radio dictates
but she makes my love think of me
and for that i hate her

its been nearly a year
and it's finally time
but i can't help feeling
that i'm betraying you

is it a need to self destruct
or to just hurt others
i struggle to pinpoint
all i know is the moment i start feeling safe
that's when it needs to end

im so tired of being sad
and spending my nights alone
with nothing but Morrissey's wailing
echoing in my room

there is a certain bitterness that fills my throat
when i watch romantic movies
two pretty girls fall in love and live a beautiful life together
overcoming adversity and battling through
despite everything against them
i'm sure i threw my shoe the last time
in my heart i know its fictional
that relationships don't work like that
i should know, I've lived through them
but even when the lover eventually dies
it scorns me
why did their love work but not mine?

i always forget how stomach wrenching the lows are. When I speak to you and you speak back it feels as if the world falls away. That you are the one whom poets beckoned for, whom stars crafted and whom romantics yearned for. But oh god, how the silence hurts. I'm too busy gliding that I forget the foundations of salt crumbling beneath me. The silence is sharp and red against my soft skin, and stands out as a bark of tree in the ocean. Perhaps I should have the words, "My fault" etched into my skin, so I know where to place blame as I desperately scratch myself away. I find myself once again furious at myself for letting you sink your teeth in and find a home in my arteries.

And now you've apologized. Your face pressed against the cool wood and whispering sweet nothings into the bark. And our love is a circle and I'm going to come back, and I want nothing more than the will power to walk away. How freeing it must be to love without a leash...

she comes out every hour
I see her sporadically
desperately ******* the life from
the hollowed stick she brings
a new one each time.
sometimes she stands and looks
up at the stars
her breath not far ahead of her
and i watch her from the window
slowly loving her with every passing moment

I spilled treacle on the floor
Not carpet, luckily.
For hours I stared at the mess I made
I sat in it, letting the stickiness consume me
I tried to start to clean
But every moment I thought about it
I sobbed a little bit more
It’s just treacle
Treacle on the floor

I moved eventually
Stuck my hands in and scooped
It slipped through mostly
Resuming on the floor

Where would I put it?
What use do I have for treacle from the floor?

If I walk away from the treacle, it will still be on the floor
If I try to clean it, it will fall back on the floor
If I lay with the treacle, we both stay on the floor

Days go by and no one calls
No one cares that I’m on the floor
Or how long I’ve been here
Or how long I’ll stay
Or why I tried to make a **** today

Should not be sobbing in her bed at night,
over the concept of change.
Things have changed before, and things will
eventually change again,
for it is the only constant in our lives.
But still, I can't let it go,
as the granary slips through my fingers.

I've waited so long to leave,
and to be my own person.
To love, to hurt and to mend.
But in all my wishful thinking,
I forgot who I was leaving.
And I'm not ready to say goodbye.

im constantly chasing my life
clinging to the jagged rocks
so tantalisingly close
then the crimson threads under my nails
envelops me in a blanket of scarlet
suffocating me sofly
till i remind myself to breathe and i pull away
and i call out to my life
deliberately ignoring the ruby spots
thread together the tattered parts
soothe it with honey and lemon
until the crimson threads under my nails
until the crimson threads under my nails
until the crimson threads

the rational part of me respects you
after all you made me who i am today
without you i would have dwindled and suffocated
the pain fine tuned me
and i know deep down that i would trade anything
any memory or any riches
just to be fourteen again
and living my days with you

but the irrational part hates you
wants to forget everything
all the lies and the pain
i need the suffocation and dwindling
who would i be without it
i miss you but you're not you anymore

If I wanted it, it could have been perfect.
Not romantic, but fun and casual.
Just a casual hook-up, no strings attached.
I'd leave in the morning with a spring in my step,
and a smile on my face.
Or you'd wake me up with coffee, or hold me close.
And I'd feel warm, and safe.

But I didn't want it.
I didn't want your hand burning my skin, nor your
face pressed near mine.
I didn't want to see you or feel you
or know you.
Why didn't I speak up? Tell you no?

Would you have stopped?

nothing i write or contribute will ever mean anything to anybody
to you this is ink on a screen
i am shapeless and nameless
eighteen years soon and i will die alone
you can't love a manipulator

I crave the mediocrity
as a scorned woman tainted by spoils
seeking the excitement with water has left
exhaustion and a lesson learned
I miss it sometimes
such as lily misses the sun
nurtured and shrived

when it is dark out and the world no longer listens
i sit there and think
about all the times i caused hurt to myself
because of my bull-ish qualities
maybe i should let go
let loose
lie down and become a rug
so what if they all secretly hate me
love doesn't need to be explicit

i'm aware of the patterns
of course i am
it's just unfortunate that my flight instinct is stronger
just sit back 'sea
let them say it
words are meaningless anyway
deep down they love you
no they don't
is it happening again?
my fault or theirs?
look at their eyes
it's slight but they glance away
that doesn't mean anything
yes it does

who cares
there's always someone better
seven billion and i'm going through fast

you ever just get
absolutely sick to your guts?
no rhyme or reason, just a sickening feeling
brewing where god intended
i'm living my ******* teenage Holden Caulfield
******* of teenage angst
fueled by hatred of self rather than rebellion for the sake of nobody

effervescent in winter
yet drawled in summer
i despise the way you crawl over my mind
scratching each surface
this position could have landed to anyone
anyone but you

it's summer and i am awake
forced to live with myself
i often think to just how simple it would be
to curve the metal across
or drape silk around my neck
winter asks no questions
just wraps its arms around and lulls me away
summer torments me
mocks me with every waking moment
spits in my eye as i'm forced to breathe
it won't leave a visible mark
i'm too old for that now
i'm a coward at heart
and that summer knows

it's easy i suppose
to ignore the neon pills
to look past the crumpled notes
to forget the stained face
but it wasn't easy i suppose
to ignore the teachers qualms
to look past the overnight stay
to forget the growing grudge

my life still hangs by a thread
but its easy i suppose

manipulation is a bad quality
but ****, does it feel good to do it.
i never go to extremes, i'm not that bad
just a taste, small things
the power it gives is inexplicable
it makes me want more
test the waters and see how far i can go

every artist needs one
so would it be vain to place my intent for a muse
into my path of self loathing

god i was so young
i'm looking back on old photos
and there's a glint in my eye i didn't notice
a small hope that you felt the same way
you'd break my heart but only briefly
always at your beck and call
my hair was vibrant and purple
and too many freckles to count
i don't pine for you anymore
just old me and the time we lost

I could give us forever, my love.
I could give you forever.
It's not selfish of you,
to want to die is natural.
But, I want you for more
than the natural time given.

I have wandered this earth,
lost and lonely.
Waiting for someone, who I didn't
even know.
Your wick is burning low,
and the wax has evaporated.

How could you stand to leave me?
I can give us more.
I want more.

its so so easy
to close my eyes at night
and i am back in that hospital rooms
my un-slit wrists begging for release
and all i can think
is how you should have let me die

its hard to describe
that melted n burning wax on my fingers feels like christmas
and fruitshoots smell like mcdonalds
and the way that pez tastes like someones house
or that pig from winnie the pooh

its been seven months
nearly 8
since i last physically touched you
it was a hug goodbye
because we both assumed we'd meet again

sure i slipped here and there
while you were high
or when we matched on tinder
brief words between is
but its been seven months since we touched
and im determined to make it a year

one error of continuity, the death of passion;
take it from father time
enraptured in this ill fitting body
i'll watch you fizzle in a week.
Find Comfort In No One.

and here's what you missed on the pathetic melancholy of me,
she hasn't looked me in the eye since friday
and im swallowing my spite
every impulse is screaming at me to lash out
take him
hurt her
a warpath of destruction that knows no bounds
but that story has been played
six or seven times now
i can't afford to slip again

A marble statue down the isle.
Picturesque as you want me,
an image in ivory.
My heart breaks to say it,
or it would if i cared,
but for me to be authentic and
marble, as you want me,
then I should be painted neon and worshiped
accordingly.

If I clean my room, then I
can allow myself to be
happy.
But, at the end of the day
I'm just a sad girl
sad in a very large room.

You know I was sad,
and that my teenage years were rough.
Yet you still stare in disbelief at the
proof of purchase scattering my thighs
wrists
ankles
stomach.
The only valid form of proof i have
that i was sad,
and i never grew out of it

In another life,
we would wake up intertwined.
Silly grins on our faces,
and teasing each other about
our morning breath.

In that life,
we are kind and loving.
Playful kisses, and reasonable fights.

To me, you will never be
The one that got away.
Instead, I let go of something
that was not meant for this life.

Amazing now,
children in love.
I pay time away, let them love.
Lose yourself in each other,
hold out.
It'll end, course it will.
Ah, but that doesn't mean you should stop.
Love freely and open yourselves.
Time is cruel but now,
now is beautiful.

exhausted, ill, and young
I trodded along to meet you.
I felt dizzy and tired, yet
still I went to meet you.
Is it because we were young?
That now I realize that sickness
and in health should not be
at my own expense.

When we lie there, counting the stars together,
the warmth of the bonfire still blazing,
and stinging our eyes to tears,
You admit to me that you believe us twin flames.
That we were once conjoined souls, and now
we have found each other again.

The world keeps turning as I process these words.
Twin flames...
This is a proposal you are making.
To tie a band around my finger and cut off my blood flow,
suffocating me back to purple- the colour you loved.

"Stay here" the air around us begs,
"Please don't go so far, this town is enough for now"
Suddenly I feel as Aeneas did,
when tricked by Venus and Juno.
And you have suddenly morphed into Dido before my eyes.

I turn back to the stars, because I cannot bear to see your face,
as I tell you instead, that we are soul mates.
And although I love you with every inch of my heart,
we are Laurie and Jo, and I feel nothing more.