I am uncomfortable.
This type of lifestyle doesn't fit me.

I just had a really nice night.
With my friends.
I call them my friends.
Since we have nice times together.
But we all talk **** on each other.
So I guess it's not the nicest friendship.
But we're friends to say the most.
And that's me saying a lot.
This is a normalcy I am sick of dealing with.
So I need to leave.
Because I would much rather.
Be at peace with myself.
Than have a fake happiness.
So hopefully this is goodbye.
Because I am tired of you.

Being in a large dark room with nothing but rows of emptiness was the least lonely I've felt in such a long time,
with the ends of your hair poking at my temple and my eyelashes fluttering against your cheek, I caught a glimpse of the entire world without ever setting foot outside of that room.
It probably wasn't the world you're thinking of, though.
In you, I saw streams for veins and earth for eyes and entire ecosystems in your pores.
I want to rip each of the hairs out of my head one by one because my hands don't know what else do to when you're not around
and when your fingertips lightly trace my jawline you tell me I'm the most beautiful work of art you've ever seen in your entire existence.
Your existence is such an important thing though and my brain can't wrap around how it possibly came to be considering so many flaws were thrown together so perfectly that something astonishing was created,
but what's even more astonishing is the fact that I love every bit of it and being so ******* happy is about to drive me insane (in the best way possible).

I haven’t called you,
But you haven’t called me, too,
So I guess that makes us both guilty
Of letting the past live on
Where it belongs.

I was never made with wings,
so I hadn't known a life other than
the one made of dirt.
I wanted a companion,
but I fell in love with a bird,
whom would never be happy
with the ground.

i fall in love with melancholy—
it undresses my mind and ushers out words
i didn’t know i had in me

there are some things that i can only say
when i am swimming in loneliness,
but not drowning

but sometimes it’s too much;
sad songs don’t caress the wound anymore

they poke at them,
make them bleed,
worsen it

i guess they were right, after all

when you feel darkness
knocking on your door,
don’t let it in—
it is not your friend

you deserve more than this sadness.