It's hard to explain
how this heart feels.
Like laughter lost in echo
and your warm touch
now long gone cold.

Anxious, breathless;
something lost I need
so desperately found.

Empty perhaps.
Abandoned like houses,
broken like silence.

These hands can't reach as far
as where you lay.
Somehow I feel like I burn at both ends;
the flames now reaching their meeting place.

But it's always better to burn out
than to fade away.

why can't i write about happy things?
i want to tell of love,
of breathless nights, and twinkling stars
of soft grass and beautiful sunlight
but the words will not come
the phrases don't string themselves together
all that i can tell of is the hurt
of the days of being lost and forgotten
of the loneliness that overwhelms me
i know this world is beautiful
but it won't reveal itself to me anymore

Why do i always do this,
i always seem to be that one,
who try a little too hard,
for people who would only put half the effort in.