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You were supposed to be my constant,
The one that I could always trust to be kind.
Now you are always missing in action,
And you dance off always with the same promise,
"We need to talk sometime, okay?"
Well, I'm ready when you are.

You
Were supposed to be my caretaker,
To love me always and to teach me that I
Was amazing.
Now I see you rarely, and you always see me with regret.

You
Were supposed to be my mentor, to lead me
Through the dark stages.
Instead you rummage through my haven
And leave a disgusting mess in your wake.

You
Were supposed to be my amazement,
To show me that any person can change.
Now I'm scared that you are slipping back to the person you once were.

You
Were supposed to be my sponsor,
The one who encouraged me and be proud of me.
Now I disgust you?

And you
You were supposed to be my protector,
You promised to be my protector.
You shielded me and lifted me,
You mocked me and beat me down.
You
Were supposed to be my protector,
And now you are the one I fear most.
Go **** yourself.

And I
I was supposed to be
Intelligent
Kind
Honest
Benevolent
Faithful
Individual
Account­able
Amazing
Remarkable
I was supposed to blow the world away.
I was supposed to be so much more.
I was supposed to go off in millions of sparks
I was supposed to be
Not this.
She gave me a six foot copper wire
Infused with delicate lights
That glowed like small, rosy Suns.

Little does she know
That I bathe in this faint light
And I am no longer afraid
Of the Dark.
A marvelous friend gave me a copper wire that powered tiny LED lights. I never told her what it meant to me.
"And I swear
I loved that boy
With all that I could.

Loving him was
A painful venture,
And I cherished
every
    excruciating
         step."
I can't breathe without
A crescendo of panic
Crashing into my lungs
Like a flood of salty, bitter water.
My darling,
You did nothing wrong.
You were just caught in the crossfire,
Swept up with collateral damage.
You were meant to be so much more
Than a receiver of my shrapnel.

You
Were
Innocent.
Mental illness is painful for everyone involved.
Don't.
Don't touch me if you only want
To know what it feels like to **** with my head.
Don't caress my cheek if all you desire
Is the sensation of my skin.
Don't even think about gripping your hand
Over my mouth just because you think it would make a marvelous joke.
If I hand you something, don't take my fingers with yours
So you can keep up your reputation.
Stop looking into my eyes if all you are searching for
Is a reflection of your emotions.
And I need you to stop pulling me into your arms.
Just stop taking me in,
Stop cradling me,
Don't trace my spine and shoulders with your fingers,
Don't embrace my little body,
Don't try to trick me into thinking that you care about me.
Don't you dare say that you love me,
Because you don't mean it.
Based on the overheard words of a Stranger fighting against someone who was clearly poison to her.
The Sun played with her hair as if It were her lover,
Stroking scarlet strands with Its finger-like rays.
How beautiful she must have seemed to the Sun!
Its warmth cupped her chin and guided her smile closer to the light.
Only the Sun could make her cheeks blush the way they did,
Flushing full of color to match her mass of locks.

She danced with the Sun, toes pointed and back poised.
Her arms caressed the warm beams, and her fingers trailed across the streams of light,
The ends of her hair twirling along her hips,
The same hips that the Sun wrapped around.

The two celestial bodies were so intimate,
Embracing and intertwining.
And I was just a boy longing for a love
Such as the love between
Her and the Sun.
I went gentle into that good night;
A decision with which I am rather pleased,
For what would it profit me to rage?

When the absolute of the darkness slides in,
And grants me these last few moments
I see no incentive for them to waste.

Dissatisfied men may cry out in indignance,
And let anger and rebellion consume their last breaths,
And frivolously spend their last minutes in livid disdain.

Wild men who chase and pursue the stars in flight
Feel their chests swell with the hatred of submission,
But I? I know that the setting of the sun does not oppress.

Disappointing men reserve all defiance when it is most required;
When others’ blood pours freely and tears spill liberally
They will shackle all insurrection to themselves.

That is, until they are faced with this finality, this ultimatum
That they cannot change, no matter how they rage. Not I. I was content.
And with the last gifts,
I went gentle into that good night.
A reflection of Dylan Thomas' famed poem, "Do Not Go Gentle Into That Good Night."
Don't
     Touch
          Me
     Ever
Again,
     You
*******.
How convenient it is for you to forget me. 
The persona that I carefully slipped on for you Ended Up being nothing more than clutter around you,
Something that wasn't even distracting, it was just there and
You needed it to not be there. 
Please say you haven't forgotten me yet. 

But here is truth: you are preparing to forget me,
You are already hiring my replacements,
You are already scheduling your life around the space that I once filled,
You are already waving me off as if
I am leaving and I am still here. 

It's hard to do well in life when you are no more than what people remember of you.
So what will you remember?
Better yet,
What do you remember?
Will you remember how I nearly passed out and you caught me, or will you remember the time
I spat out the Unholiest of word to you,
When I said that I hated you. 

Believe me, I will remember you. And you will live to be so much more than what I remember. Just know that I loved you with all that I could.
I have yet to decide if this is a love letter to life,
Or a ransom note for my own existence.
Much like a small pearl
Refined by the ocean's waves,
Her flaws were heaven.
“Doubt thou the stars are fire,
  Doubt that the sun doth move,
  Doubt truth to be a liar,
  But never doubt I love,"
He wrote.

"Never doubt," she whispered
As her foot hovered over the fallen tree.
Tentative and cautious she treads,
As if to make up for her blind trust
She had in his words.
"Never doubt."

Words, words, words, words.

"Never doubt," she choked
While her eyes hungrily stared at the water below.
To die, to sleep.
To drown, to float.
"Never doubt."

"I love I love I love I love," she sings
Sobbing.

She is here.
She is standing on the fallen tree over the water,
Flowers in hand,
Melodies in mind,
Her choice in her throat.

"Not to be."

She is there.
Her self
Fell in the weeping brooke,
      her cloathes spread wide,
And Mermaid-like, a while they bore her up,
Which time she chaunted
snatches of old tunes,
As one incapable of her own distress,
Or like a creature Natiue, and indued
Unto that Element but long it could not be,
Till that her garments,
heavy with her drink,
Pulled the poor wretch from her melodious lay,
To muddy death.

Now tell me, my dear prince,
Would you call that "love?"
Many of these lines are appropriated from Shakespeare's "Hamlet." No plagiarism intended.
It's all so simple.
I exist on the terms of
Those who will use me.
Trapped within a crowd,
Never in my life I felt
So isolated.
A haiku to describe what my existentialism did to me. To all who understand this feeling too well, may you find happiness like I did.
It starts out small,
Quiet and pathetic.
The kind of sobbing that gives bystanders the feeling of
Awkward pity.
She whimpers and every once in a moment,
She chokes on top of her hiccups.
She sounds like such a child.

It grows.
The ******* sound grows.
The crying is a little more panicked, more chokes force through.
It sounds a bit more like she is heaving on misery.
She can’t make her lungs work
The way they need her to.
She cannot breathe without her lungs
Catching on regret
And frustration.

If you look at her,
She is curled up inside her own body,
Wrapping her arms around her core.

Oh God, it’s growing louder.
Can’t You fix it?

She is screaming now.
She shrieks in some sort of pain that we don’t know,
And neither does she.
But she feels it.

The noise of hysteria rips out of her.
She can’t control this anymore.
She is pushing and gripping at the hair on her head
Trying to simulate some degree of comfort,
But there is a excruciating pain swelling against her ribs inside of her.

She screams so loudly.
Her fears reverb
Back
And
Forth
Against the walls of my mind.

She can’t breathe without
A crescendo of panic
Crashing into her lungs
Like a flood of salty, bitter water.

I look at her and I wonder,
Who is she,
And how does she know my pain?
Your absence weighs down on me like... Like atmosphere.
Yet being with you
Seems to absolutely crush me.
Why?
The air rushes out of my lungs,
Making an involuntary exodus;
Or rather, this bad news purges the air from my body.

Purges?

It tackles my breath and-
It grabs the oxygen and forces it-
It shoves the wind right out-

This calamity leaves me unable to say how I feel.
I suppose I never thought
That someone could care for me so little.

So little
As you.

— The End —