You
My favorite word
playing in my ears
like my favorite song
on repeat.

You
could mean so much
to so many different people.
To me,
it means the way you laugh
at your own jokes;
The way you sleep
making soft, short breaths
and I can listen
to each and every one;
The way your skin feels
when I run my hand along
your soft and delicate body;
The way you talk
as if every word is important
even though you think it’s pointless
(But it’s not);
The way you worry
about everyone and everything;
The way you cry,
rarely,
but when you do it’s heavy
and needed
and all I want to do is hug you;
But most of all,
the way you love
and care
about everyone.

You
meaning so many things
that this poem would be
everlasting.

You
day and night
I can’t get
my mind off of you.

You,
someone who will
never* love me
the way I love you.
So now I hope
for someone to love,
someone to love me
the way I loved you
(and still do).
But oh, how I wish
how I wish
it could be you.

we are creatures of habit:
give me love
and i will return it
wholeheartedly,
but rip it out from under me
and i will go on
loving you
as if nothing was different.
we are creatures of habit
no matter how much
it tears my heart to shreds.

I spoke to Scarlet this afternoon.
I hadn't seen her in such a long time.
funny thing is,
this is the first time I've ever spoken to her.
I've always liked to pretend she wasn't real,
was never there, and only a figment of my imagination.
but now I've finally found out
what she thinks of me.
what I've always thought of myself.
that, she whispers
was always the truth.

t   r   u   t   h.
what is that anymore?*

"whatever you can imagine is real."

well now I know.

I'm not sure
how much longer I can hold on
pretending everything was okay
or is okay
or will be okay
when in reality,
nothing is.
why do I keep trying to survive,
and continue telling myself I can
when I really, definitely, truly
cannot?
well now
I'll begin admitting.
they say that acceptance is the first step to recovery.
but who cares what they say anymore?
what if the only recovery left
for me
is death?
(the only escape)
well
if this doesn't serve as a suicide note,
I'm not sure anything else could be.

you are beautiful,
but in the way that scares me-
like the end of a cigarette.
beautiful ashes that disperse in the wind
but warm to the touch
and causes scars when pressed against skin.
it's eerie to think
that the smoke surrounding you
and getting between your clothes and tangled mess of hair and face
is slowly rotting you on the inside,
eventually killing you.

(do you see what you're doing to me, scarlet?)

you are stunning,
like the moon on a stormy night.
you stand out amongst the dark clouds and lightning strikes
but do nothing to stop the thunderous booms
and heavy rain pelting down upon me.
you simply watch; serene and illuminated,
you watch
me
suffer.

but you are dark
not the mysterious darkness of a newly discovered cave
or dingy attic begging to be explored,
but a darkness that has become familiar to me
the gloominess of a soul
the dimming of a heart-
you've put out every light of hope and belief
I've ever known
and you've ignited the fire that holds no luminescence,
only the ability to burn and smoke
the fire of pain; your fire.

and it is (you are) corroding me.