This time last year,
I thought I was the ****.
Turns out I was not the ****.
This year, I am the ****.

He was like an addiction.
The kind I needed
to hide from everyone
The kind I needed
to make myself feel okay again.
He numbed the pain
and everything
just ended up foggy-
a haze of gray etched
between these fingers
that would sweat without him.
I craved the touch too much.
So I tried to quit him
when he made me feel like
dying was a better option.
But the withdrawal became
too much for my chest to handle
too much for me to swallow
and I ended up sick-
wishing I was pulling him to my lips and savoring every minute.
He was the drug I ran into
and became my addiction ever since.
These hands shake without him.
I am calm in his embrace.
Do not take me with you
for I do not need fixing anymore.
This drug will keep me warm
His love will keep me warm.
They say addiction changes you into someone you don't want to be.
Maybe they're right-
Or maybe this is me
and always will be.

They tell me to choose
What I love most.
But what I choose
May hurt me more than anything,
No matter how much I love it.

Nothing major to say
but hoping little stupid things
will suffice
Yet I find myself
always on the brink of hesistation
whispers, yells, and screams
practically pleading to find
their way out
but still, even then
My lips stay sealed
While my brain howls

it's all purple now,
our memories.
every time I think of you, the pain deep down in my heart breaks me open like a flower that just couldn't wait to bloom. do you remember? the weekend we just couldn't help but love each other? you promised to spend the day with me, holding me tight when the tears poured out because I knew this wouldn't last. and I was right. you know you  were the first boy to ever call me pretty? and as much as I loved it, it just made the purple a little more violent. our love, once so exciting, has left me banging my head against the bus seat where it first started. every time you wrap your arms around her, I remember how it feels to be in them. every time you laugh with her, I dig my nails a little deeper in my arm because I remember how intoxicating it is, and the pain is my morphine. the purple is uncontrollable. the pain is uncontrollable. you are uncontrollable.

She opens a window
and hopes for the sky
to fall in from outside
and it's tailwind bring

her the moon and the clouds
lined with silver, a crowd
of the finest of stars
and a spare pair of wings..