Some things I cannot resist; I blame my own self worth.
I got shot in a dream once...it didn't hurt.
The apple is never as sweet
as the whispered words that slither out of your mouth.

Still moonstruck, still insane,
You throw me straight into the flame.,
and I like the burn
enough to go back for seconds.

Because even though I don't owe you anything,
I feel an obligation, like muscle memory
it falls out my open mouth, gasping
to remember the last few fragments
of the nightmare you woke me from.

So here's to biting off more than you can chew,
and having no regrets about finding yourself
cracked beneath the covers, and disarrayed
among the reflections of mistakes already made.

Maybe I needed this
reality check. I'm on my own, I know.
The temporal frustrates me, the birds
fly south for the winter, I fly...nowhere.
Permanence is a dream as fleeting as
its own contradiction.
It makes no sense, but what did I
expect from you?

Do you remember the nights
we laid across each others ankles
to see if either would break under
the weight of the other?

These fractured bones
don't mean a thing. (promise)

I still remember every detail.
The pit of fear in my stomach.
The grip you had on my wrists and arms.
The smell of Jaegar and tobacco pouring out of your disgusting mouth along with the slur of

"It's going to be fine, sweetheart"

My skin crawling as you forced me out of my clothes.
The acid tears burning my face as you took what wasn't yours to take.
The value of my already worthless body gone.
Forever.

And in the place of something once pure,
You left these haunting memories from which I cannot escape.

I read things she wrote about you and her today.
And every word broke my heart.
I thought I could trust you.
But now, I have every reason not to.

I have every right to throw every little bad thing about you in your face.
To curse and scream and say things that will make you hurt as badly as I am.

But for some reason I can't bring myself to do so.
I cant make your heart ache like mine.
And even though vengeance is calling, I won' t fall into temptation.

Because I truly love you.
It's hard though because I'm suppose to be the hard *** that doesn't care about anything or anyone.

When it came to you, I couldn't be that person.

But now I can't be anything.
Because I feel like nothing.

The only thing I can think about is

all of the time I invested in you
and all the trust I had given you.
and every piece of my heart I let you caress,
But you went and threw it all away.
because it was meaningless to you, wasnt it?

The worst part of it all is that you dont even know that I know.
So for the sake of you and I,
I wont bring it up.
I'll play pretend and act like everything is fine and dandy.

I wont let you know how badly you have hurt me or how much I cared about you.
I wont let you hear me cry "how could you do this to me" or about how shattered I am.

I'll say "hey babe!" when I answer the phone and when you ask how I am
I'll tell you that I'm missing you.
Because no matter how much pain I'm in,
that will always be the truth.

And when you say you love me I'll say "I love you too"
Because no matter how badly you hurt me,
that will always be the truth too.

When I wrote before, it was because I needed an outlet for my emotions.
Whether they were morbid or buoyant.
But now, it seems that I have found that I cannot feel.

I suppose this is why I haven't wrote.

I can't talk about how infatuated I am with a mysterious man because I do not have that person to write about. And I could not feel infatuation even if I did have a lover.  
I am unable to express the depressive ambiance coming from within because I am sure it has dissolved by now.

I'm no longer the pathetic being I was just months ago.
I've evolved into something lesser than a sadness-consumed commodity and I've concluded a robotic, cold substance was left after the despondency faded.

And if this is all that I am, than how could I write anything worth reading.

I lay on my hospital bed,
waiting for the anesthesia to kick in.
Feeling dizzy. Turning sleepy.
There's no one there to hold my hand.

The nurses looking at me,
waiting to start the procedure.
Looking tired. Pacing quiet.
My body starts to go numb.

I will soon be out of this world,
at least for a few hours.
Running free. Feel no pain.
My eyes start to lose reality.

I wish I could stay numb
until I have to sleep forever.
Have no fear. Living strong.
So please, Mr. surgeon, leave the anesthesia on.

I think it’s the way I write,
So you can’t cease my words
and you can’t see me
Wandering.
You try following me through a pool of thoughts.
To be what?
A friend?
A comfort?
But I read you.
You take it all back within seconds.
Maybe it’s the way I talk
So you don’t understand my language
Or grab it away
Like you can’t find me
Or like my thoughts
They’re hiding
I’m hiding
You’re hiding.
And I’m wondering.
Maybe it’s the way I observe, so closely catching any forbidden words,
I sing those that land in my ear.
I’m the outsider that knows every one of your expressions,
every movement you make,
I’m already 3 steps ahead of you.
My body watches closely,
Digs into every sound, a shovel to bury you underground.
Wouldn’t you know?
You never thought to look
Inside me, inside my words
Myself, only I carry a hate as conspicuous as the hate you give everyone who touches you.
But you know. Don’t you?
Everyone knows.
I know
But I wonder
I wonder, I wander, I’m trapped in a corner of pressure, unfinished business.
I don’t want you here, I don’t want you anywhere near me.
I can’t be stuck with you forever.
So I think I’ll walk myself back,
And crush your words.