I’m a wreck
If I don’t have anything
I’m a machine
Running on oil
Waiting for you to fill me up
It feels like the world is almost over
And I can’t live to not look low
As I’m pulled apart from this car crash
Of misery, I see it was all pointless
And that the bullets were temporary pain
I don’t know much about fighting
But with you around, I felt like I knew it all
I threw my blow to my entrapped heart
And broke my walls down
The ashes and smoke looked like stars
And a cosmic journey was now mine
I looked for the sign in the rubble
In each disaster I created
And found a heartbeat
Worthy of life

I do not like this phase of a heart break.

When you purposely avoid love songs,
Or sometimes you play them just to make yourself feel like your hearts still pounding.

When the person you loved and hid from every waking soul is brought into a conversation.
Or when he isn't.

When you see other lovers who have made it years without the cruel hand of fate ripping their love from them.
Or when you see they haven't.

When you notice him writing you smaller, casual messages when they use to be breathtaking and beautiful.
Or when he doesn't write at all.

When I ask you if I am pushing you away and you say no.

"Alright, happy birthday! Text me later tonight?"

"Will do"

When every hidden goodbye ends with those two words. And my broken, belittled heart.

(i. r.)

Saying goodbye
To someone you love
Is like reading the final page
Of an amazing book.

As the last chapter ends
You begin to notice
Just how beautiful
And perfect
The plot always was.  

You appreciate the joy
And even the pain
As you read and thumb
Through every page.

Finally understanding
The moral of the story,
You realize you've reached
The end of this journey.

Although the last sentence  
Is the most difficult to read
Another great book awaits
Once you turn the final page.

Eventually you may stumble
Upon yet another great find.
Or maybe you'll return
To the book you left behind.

You may just discover
Once all is said and done
That this particular book  
Was your favorite story
All along.

Before a story is ever continued
It must fully begin
My life has been confusing
Because of this
I never know how to explain my own story

Look out my window
There's a lifeless frame in the streets
As disturbing as the truth
The violins make their dark tremble
The walls talk to me in whispers
But always wish to scream
They just sit and stare
As cold as that frame

I'm drifting along the streets
Ignoring the cars and the people around
There's a beauty to loving yourself
And embracing sadness at the same time