Everyone has scars
But you're showing me yours.
The deep, red cuts
Like tears on your arms.
Each small line
Is something so big.
Too big.
Maybe not to me, but to you,
Isn't it?
I wouldn't know.
My only scars being from
A scrap, fall, or something more raw.
Something more raw.
Family, friends, lovers, simply reality
Each so beautiful,
But in the end those are the ones.
The ones that draw the most blood.
Those are the ones.
The ones that remind us.  
They stay on your arm,
Your own personal lifeline.
Who knew a razor
Would keep you going?
Slipping on your feet,
But never truely falling.

Slow tears
Trickle down my face
Escaping
From my tight hold

Soar throat
As I scream so loud
Deafening
The only one that hears

Strictly together
I cover my wounds
Pretending
That nothing ever happened

I look at you
And I see us.
Happy,
Together,
In love.
But then they talk.

I hear them
And I understand their
Anger,
Frustration,
For me.
But then I see you.

It's a constant battle
Inside of me.
Mind,
Heart,
Against one another.
And I can't decide.

Confessing is pointless
It's a two way street
That only has one
Right answer

You can't confess
Without disappointing
Someone's always hoping
For the answer they want

I wanted your confession
But I got it
And your honest answer
Was the wrong one.

I thought I was done,
I thought me hurting over you
had stopped,
that me smiling at him
would cause the flashbacks
to vanish.
They did stop-
until now.
Maybe they came back because
even though we never had
anything
you seemed to be everything,
and you're everywhere.
You're in the songs I hear,
the sarcastic comments I make,
and the lists we created together.
But with each of these things
comes a red flag
that I chose not to see.
Like how every song we sang
is the saddest of them all.
Or maybe it's because I found out
another lie,
another game changer.
That I wasn't the only one
that you kissed,
Not the only one you used that
great line on.
Or walked away from without
a single ******* glance.
You didn't think I'd find out, right?
"Make a mistake or regret one"
The words that haunt me.
The words that played me for
a fool
on that magical night.
Or maybe they came back
for none of these reasons.
Maybe it's because not only
did you throw away
what we could've been,
but our friendship too.
And I loved you.
So I hate you for that.
I hate that I can't even look at you
because it's not even you anymore,
you've become a monster to me,
and you hid him so well.
But most of all I hate that every time
I look at you
I can still hear those words,
those promises,
and taste your lying lips
so perfectly.
Feel your hands touching my back
taking me to where it all began.
Where we began.
Where this began.
But even more I hate
that I have the power.
and the will,
to hate you this deeply,
and for all this,
I hate myself.

Im still mad,
but not for the reasons
you're thinking.
I'm still mad for different
reasons completely.

I'm mad
that we couldn't be.
That you chose
to keep walking,
away from me.

I'm mad
that I let you play me.
Yes you strung me,
like chords on your
sad, lonely guitar

But mostly I'm mad
that you're still
in my heartbroken mind,
with me hearing that
sad, lonely song,
that you play so well.