Open eyelids, dry and stale
A soul just the same
How many times do I have to
Keep opening and walking through
The same ******* door.
Fuse shut already door,
eyes,
soul.

i am a collector
i collect tears and panic attacks
scratched skin and nervous twitches

Over the years i've accumulated much
i collect desperate whispers to nothing in the dark
choked sighs, and raw swallows

i've collected rare winter princes and indian summers
then bittersweet kisses and hollow darkened loneliness
i collect i miss you's they'll never hear
and haunting memories that **** your breath away like a deep gust of wind

i have a gallery filled with years of depression
i collect plaguing relentless thoughts of self depreciation
should've, would've, cant's.
i've got bags and bags full of fears and failure.

There were those times i thought i found promises,
but only turned out accumulating more lies.
i've got a surplus of hurt, and pain
i've collected those times of overeating, under-eating, self harm, self medication.

At night especially, the walls come alive,
Shall i show you my collection?

I miss you in my bed, still.
Still.
I miss you still, in my bed.
Our bed. Our hearts.
My bed. No heart.

when you're depressed
you learn to
always wear waterproof makeup

loneliness is
looking at the imprint your shape left on our bed
gripping your shirt in my clenched fists

you left more than that behind, but memories won't fit in the washing machine.

I'm cutting myself on broken glass,
from the night we clicked
and you shattered my world.

I just.
want someone to look at my face
drenched in tears
                                                           ­   and understand.