Razor blades and thoughts
tear us apart as we let them.
We see ourselves as we see no other.
When we look in the mirror, we see our flaws.
The birthmark on our neck only we can see.
The flaws we grew up with.
The imperfections we learned to hate.
The more compliments we receive, the more conscious we become.
The more we try to hide our true selves.
Try to draw attention away from them;
From our scars.
Our wrinkles.
Our past.
Our future.
Our NOW.
Our later.
Until we find that person.
That  one person
Who will break down our walls just to be able to be the one to build them up again once they're with you.
Strive to find and **be that person.

I've always dreamed of someone
who'll make his love show
That when I'm sad and full of dismay,
he'll always know what to say
That everytime I throw a fit and when i'm mad
he'll calm me down and hold my hand

that when i'm tired and unwell,
he'll always be there for me,in a ring of a bell
he'll say sweet things that will tickle my heart
and will promise me that we will never part
he'll call me in the middle of the night,
wishing he can hold me tight

he'll make me laugh to a point of tears,
washing away all my fears
he'll take me to walks by the moon,
making cute faces like a funny cartoon

he'll gladly hold my hand in front of his friends,
telling them it was "us" till the end
he'll run after me through the rain,
holding me on through the pain

he'll dance with me though there's no music
and he'll steal a kiss real quick
he'll sing sweet melodies into my ears,
with a song that only both our hearts can hear...

i'm up still and my body aches,
and my chest hurts,
and my bones quake.
~
something inside came out today,
it tore through my skin,
and lead me astray.
~
it made a hole when it left,
and it wont close up,
and i don't know how to fix it,

i'm so ******.

I was designed to have a broken perspective,
A fragile state and my emotions are selective,
I feel like a robot, a creation of steel,
But this machine has the capability to feel,
The cogs, they may turn,
The engines may burn,
But this hollow, metal collection,
Has reserved a special section,
To be able to love,
To be able to show affection,

Life is a tiny black x on the calendar,
Wedged between play dates and rescheduled doctors appointments.
2:00 floods into 4:00, until the entire day lies crumpled at the foot of the bed,
Lifeless except for the coffee stain memories of yesterday.
Nothing happens here.
Self questions self, and we all sit criss cross apple sauce on the linoleum floor;
Is this what it means to be alive?
Red and blue parachute above our tiny shoulders,
Mixing with green, yellow, and orange wedges
The same as pizza or convenience store cheesecake.
Outside, noisy blurs of grey and black whir by
Full of passengers too preoccupied with routine to venture
Into the far off world of innocence
That softly plagues everything detached enough to feel it.
Covered in paintings of a reality that's missing all of it's fingers.
Nothing lives here- beyond the faint ripple
Of three o'clock snack time:
Rosy cheeks and small, stubby fingers concealed by apple sauce,
The preservative of youth, it slowly takes on the texture
Of dad's lung cancer-
Dying pigeons rest nostalgically upon city rooftops,
As strangers stop to admire their stagnant beauty,
Crying out acclaim for the regal presence of those
Who can bear to sit still amidst the chaos of an hour:
Cigarette and polyester feathered Madonnas of the modern world-
Installation art at its finest.
Face paint and spaghetti hair
Are only tangible until replaced with something a little closer to
Reality. The American dream sinks to the bottom of a hollow mason jar, as preservatives soak the bones
Of every tiny heart, alive enough to give out at the faintest malfunction.
Dilapidated, our heavy feet tread over spare Lego pieces,
The tiny rectangles push up against our translucent flesh-
Leaving abstract indentations of a city that never was.
Images of the earth projected upon tiny marble surfaces,
Fallen from a cardboard box that was once on isle five,
Impress upon the weary feet
Of strangers, running to throw up beneath the red, green, and yellow windows
Of a Target grocery store.
Nothing grows here, yet we eagerly pluck our wilted produce
From the clammy hands of a metal machine
Programmed one, two, three
To dilute our logic with an even mist of something
Almost like water, but with more promise.
Until, we can easily swallow the bitter pill that
Holds the secrets of the world.

Just looking at you yesterday,
I figured out so much.

Like how deep "Us" goes.
And how much I respect you,
Trust you,
And mostly Love you.

There are too many things to name,
But trying and failing is better than never beginning.

But I don't even know where to start....
Your determination
To change the world in your unique way,
One step at a time?

Your gentle smile when we meet eyes and
(I think) you know I'm wondering?

Your distant stares with complex codes that I have yet
To crack?

Your laugh... Where do I begin?
Just that alone gives me goosebumps
Only because the sound belongs to you alone.

And of course your toned body and skilled lips
Are a bonus.

I love you.
There's so many reasons,
And so many unknown factors.
But I don't care.

I just hope this made you smile,
Just like I did when I read it for the first time.