You will tick for me,
And I will tock for you.
'Cause when you are in love
That's just what lovers do.

You will turn my gears
And I'll come alive for you;
If I can wind you up
And you will join me too.

When you are in love
You do your best to prove,
That every word you say,
And all your heart is true.

So I hope you know
There's nothing I won't do,
To put a smile on your face
And make your dreams come true.

Just like how for me
You always come through
To chime out loud for me
"I'll do anything, for you."

You will tick for me,
And I will tock for you.
Because we are in love,
And that's what we will do.

A pillow fort castle,
A couch for a throne.
And if I leant into your shoulder?
I'd always be at home.

Let's steal games instead of jems,
Rule words instead of the world
And I promise, by your side,
Will stay a lucky girl

Origami crown to top your head,
And a grin to grace your face,
In one hand, a gun, or cane,
And the other? in my hand you'll place.

The prince will light the lamps
And the princess will wear a tie.
And always they'll remain,
At eachothers side.

If you look past the pane
Or perhaps the pain?
(Whichever my friend says to do)
Apparently there is a sun
(Or was it a son?)
And happiness waits for you.

there's a tear in the fabric of time
and in your dress
of which i am sneaking glances through.

you'd look up for my response
I'd nod to the ground
(not quite at my shoes)

"The world will fall apart!
The universe is breaking!"
And I sit and lick my lips.

"What do we do?"
I pick you up, and tear you away
from the constrictions of all fabric.

Stay by my side, through all the darkest nights?
Kiss me to sleep, and tell me its alright?

I'll live in your arms, and make you smile.
All you have to do, is stay a while.

I'll tuck you in at night,
And lay parallel,

I'll bring you food and tea,
If you feel unwell.

I promise you all this,
And also my heart,

Just please stay,
For I don't want to part.

I'm not sure I trust anyone with the whole entire part of this. But I feel I need to tell someone.

will you listen, my friend, even though this piece is not a poem?

My friends feel a little too distant, but I think that is how i see them, not how they really are. They make me feel bad, but i'm pretty sure that's my fault too- do I take them too seriously? Or do they mean what they say...I don't remember.

My ex still haunts me. I don't wanna call it emotional abuse and i don't want my mum to tell me I'm depressed and have anxiety and that's what the panic attacks are. In fact, I want to say it's my fault and am being silly, as always. I don't wanna admit the nightmares are underlying issues, because I'm scared anyone I tell won't take me seriously, or will treat me different. But I am different.

My boyfriend...gosh I love him. But I feel bad that I feel bad when I have him on my arm, when i look into his eyes, when he smiles, and his face lights up as though having a good waking dream...and says he loves me. All I can manage is a half smile and an I love you too, which i do! But my love doesn't carry into the words, I am too tired and sad (but only this past two weeks, don't get me wrong.)

If I were to be entirely honest I kinda wanna cry everywhere and tell everyone i hate them but i love them and will stop hating them soon. But I don't know if I would stop.

So you tell me, how does one struggling, feeling inadequate, wishing she wasn't so ****** 'perfect' to everyone...how does she ask for help? And could you possibly give it?

Because sometimes us poets are far from wise.

Poets are sent to a special kind of hell;
Where you put in a coin,
and the gumball colour you want comes out.

It is by being given what we feel we deserve
That we run out of things to write.

It is spring soon,
which means
;
Flowers will bloom
outside of my dreams.

The garden of
my heart
will overflow
once more, with beauty.

Come walk with me
And see!--
Each flower is
a new thought of you.

"fingerprint tracking technology"
articles are so foolish.
They can seek my fingerprints,
all they like
but it's my footprints
along the ashphalt by the shore-
it is those which will never fade.

They'll lead you to my place,
through my visceral dreams
and to the darkest places on earth.

And if you'll walk my path tonight,
you may also see the sea
looking black.
And if you've the right sorta soul,
At dark ocean waves
it'll wave back.

The sky yields no stars
but don't fret;
this was never to be a poem of beauty.
No, just of darkness,
and stars
that a midnight sky lacks.

I am less than honorable
My intent less than clean.
And the canker of my life?
Greater than you've ever seen!

Virtues; I have none.
Morals; I have none.
Light: I have one.
It's in the nightlight of her heart.

She follows me around
like a sweet haunting ghost.
Sometimes, i forget she is there
watching me, without thought.
I am a blank space to her;
For her.
A blank space to stare into.

I was her greatest gift, she once said.
I remember the way she said it,
All the words tender
and running together.
Yes; and with no voice. Only
the movement of lips
into silent sleeptalking mumbles
in my sleepwalking hours.

So my nightlight,
won't you come with me
and haunt me beside the shores once more?
My darling, remind me of how worthless I am
And let me rot in your arms.
(without fingerprints or footprints,
i could never touch your heart.)
Always, in her arms.

If someday your fascinating eyes grow playful
And you turn your assassins knife to my heart...
Held in frightening play,
Yet not to tear me apart.

If someday you wonder if my inners are pretty,
(Like you claim my outer frame to be.)
And you decide to peel back my skin,
And peer into the rest of me..
If someday you decide it could be fun to **** me?

I will not be sorry
I will not be sad
Instead? I will be happy of the times we've had.

I'll remember how long your words held me
And the shivers given by your touch.
The degrees of sharpness in your teeth
And yet how you weren't too rough.

I'll remember Winter days.
And how they passed in a daze.
I'll remember saying everything to you twice,
And you never seeming to mind.

I'll recall the promises you made
And the sanity we resisted so well.
I'll dream of every second spent with you,
And being caught under your spell.

You'll seriously hold the blade
And speak quiet words to me.
And I'll think it rather charming,
Such particularity.

You'll grin as you trace it along
that grin I love to see.
You'll tell me it's a joke,
As if you'd ever dispose of me!

And lost in my memories,
I'll forget to be terrified.
I will look into your eyes,
and then I shall smile.

You'd allow the knife to fall
and you'd remain all mine.

A dreary morning ensemble
Of broken instruments.
Curtains spread, so do my eyes,
To the light that ensues.

Glinting light off the tangled marionette
And The already sprung jack in the box.
The room illuminated slowly;
I conduct a silent orchestra, to my twisted audience.

The cymbals crash not
The lute strings yield no twang.
As for the birds outside
Has that chorus ever sang?
The accordion doesn't breathe,
So I stop as well.
Before long I must leave,
I bow to the audience; farewell.

I leave the doormat at the front door,
And the musicians I don't own.
Down the stairs
Past the mailbox
I leave my home.

In my walks I dream of you
Sharing my path.

I think of the curves of your neck,
The creases of your eyes,
And hands.
The weight of you,
As I lay face down,
And You rest on my back.
The silence between us at times,
That I don't ever seem to mind.
But just incase, you reach for my hand,
Just incase silence feels unkind.
I think of your laugh,
At my awkward jokes.
Mostly;
I think of your smile.

I reach the school
Still lost with you.

"Hey" they all say.
And conversation flows.
I listen, comment, even join in,
Of my dreams,they do not know.
The pensive mood of my journey lingers,
A fifteen minute walk feels years ago.

I think of the instruments left alone,
The time I once spent with them
(Not so long ago.)

I laugh at a joke,
Oh he's a funny friend!
And then someone speaks your name.

The light passes over my face
Like open curtains,
Across the drums.

If you could place your hand on my heartbeat today,
You may comment on how it races.
The blood it pumps
(Thumpity Thump)
Is taken to many places.

Let's start at my head, at my brain,
It allows me to think of you.
The thoughts I find
(Always so kind)
Remind me you are true.

The blood trails down my arms, a river inside,
That would wrap around your waist.
The flow is always on,
(Splashing along)
Travelling with such haste.

Now to my fingertips, it carries on,
And they would caress your cheek.
The warmth of your face,
(A favourite place)
Is something that I seek.

So believe me as I speak the truth,
My heart beats for you.

Ah my lamplighter-
I do my best to escape this place
And imagine
You, here,
Or I, with you.
I pull down the sleeves of your jacket
Covering my hands
That I may raise them to my face and breathe in your scent.
It envelops me,
And all at once;

I can imagine kissing your cheek
Your hands
Your lips
And then I'm counting you like spaces on a board game.

I like it there.
Before long someone speaks my name,
Following with concern.
"Are you okay?"
I quietly say that I am well.
(And quietly don't say
That I am missing your dreamed up arms already.)

Cuddled into your jacket,
I study the lights above
So harsh.
So cold.
My lamplighter would never allow such a thing
If he knew.

But never mind that.
I sit here, Phantom as can be
And I stop existing again-
It's the best way to miss you.

So the clever artist manages to push all her friends away,
And the clever artist decides to distract herself from her plight.
The clever artist goes outside to paint
In the rain.
In the middle of the night.
The clever artist crafts damaged brushstrokes.
And the very clever artist watches them wash away.

The clever artist sends herself mostly blind
As she watches her foggy breath over a flashlight.
The clever artist thinks about the silence that blares,
Despite the music coming from everywhere.
And oh the clever artist!--
Dropped her brush in the dirt.
But she still managed to disguise her hurt..
The artist cleverly insulted the paintbrush in hand;
Clever words, metaphorically meant.

It was then the clever artist ran inside
Her hair dripping from the rain, tangled and wild.
The stupid artist sits down before a page,
Taking her favourite seat.
And writes the worst excuse of a poem ever made.
Becoming the least worthy poet you'll ever meet
The stupid artist can't write,
Nor paint for ****.
And of her friendship skills?
Well, **** it.

Moonlight fills the empty shadow
Where you should be, on my pillow.
I stretch my arm across the moon,
It still doesn't feel quite like you.

Far from home, across the sea,
A boat lies there for you and me.
Sailing on the star crossed sky,
Reflections write our lullaby..

Our shoulders hold more than just air,
Seeking something else instead.
They are the dreamy places where,
You and I could rest our heads...

And if you look to the concrete,
The light glimmers in puddles deep.
It is there my heart will rest,
Waiting for the next sunset.

I think you'll find It's in your eyes,
The way across the greatest sky.
Between your palm and my cheek,
The whole space between you and me..

If you'd only follow me
I'd show you just what I see.
And you'd allow a kiss or three,
And forever we'd only need to be.

Once upon a time there was a little family in a little cottage in some little woods just beyond a little river.  And in this little family in the little cottage in the little woods beyond the little river was a big person. They weren’t really big to look at, no not much. But they did big things with their big heart filled with big love for all the little things. But sometimes, little people hurt the big people, and they become little people too, and hide in their own heart, because there is no-one else’s to hide in. They try to look after themselves, wishing they could be a bigger person again. But they only wish, and wishing is a little person thing, doing is a big person thing. They want to stand up for what they need, but instead they get walked on, and they tire of this and eventually become narrow minded and smaller than even the smallest family in the smallest cottage of the smallest woods beyond a river so small it’s barely a trickle.

Petty things become important, annoyances become plague. Sometimes, the once-big-now-small people try to say it’s okay for them to be small, they did more for everyone in a minute of being big than a lifetime of being small could do, they think it makes up for it. But everyone needs to be big sometimes. Everyone can help another person in some way, even if it is rather small. Hugs are free, listening is free. And what if you’ve no arms and no ears? A heart is always free, rent it to people if they need a safe place. If they graffiti your heart, disrespect it, tell them you don’t like it, try again. Make effort, believe in them, don’t give up. That’s what big people do. They do little things with big love.

And if they keep hurting you, take a little time out, but don’t be little about it. Care for yourself, but don’t be selfish in your ways, still hold that love. And if right now they can’t learn from the  love in your big heart or your little gestures and big meanings, maybe they need time. If you can do no more, do no more, but always believe in someone, because everyone can be a big person.

And I bet right now you’re thinking like a big person, thinking of a big person thing you did. Was it a few little words, a few little thoughts? A few little minutes? Did it make someone else happier, just a little bit, or at least help? Then you have a done a big person thing. And I also bet you’re thinking of someone who you don’t think could ever really be a big person, someone who did little person things to you and made you be a little person for a little while. And it probably makes you feel like a little person to be thinking like that. But that’s okay, just because anyone and everyone can be a big person, does not mean everyone will be. Those with little to give, still have something to give. Those with a lot to give think they’ve nothing to lose, and give. But sometimes, sometimes, where big people can grow a little person remains, no matter how many big people do big people things for them.

And I know you’ll hear this, compelled to be a big person. To do something nice today, ask someone how they are, or buy someone lunch, or give time to someone less fortunate, or even more fortunate, we are all as equals. But will you stay with this? Doing one big person thing sometimes is good, but imagine if you could do something every day? There are days where being a big person gets tiring, but your heart only grows to make room for more love if it’s needed. It is but one thing to feel the glow for a week, being a big person, only to become small again, it’s another to spend every day living as the biggest person you can be.

Remember, it only takes a little love to be a big person.

We are just two people;
Who found,
Eachother.

They tell me there are 7 billion people
On the planet Earth.
That's nine zero's
And for whatever it's worth,
I am glad to have found a Phantom
Among all these births.

There is more people than I'll ever know
But they'll never have their own lamplighter.
The sunrises and sunsets
Makes things a little brighter.
They never pass without a glance,
From your letter-writer.

The world around me is so full
With this, and that, and this!
But at least when I am in your arms,
I needn't exist.
The luxury of not being
It is simply utter bliss.

Though these words are odd-sounding
They are all for you.
You keep my heart pounding,
One out of 7 billion (plus two.)
Though us Phantoms aren't abounding
At least you came through.
Some would call this astounding!
Nevertheless-

We are just two people;
Who found,
Eachother.

We are just two people;
Who found,
Eachother.

They tell me there is 7 billion people
On the planet Earth.
That's nine zero's
And for whatever it's worth,
I am glad to have found a Phantom
Among all these births.

There is more people than I'll ever know
But they'll never have their own lamplighter.
The sun rises and sets
And makes things a little brighter.
They never pass without a glance,
From your letter-writer.

The world around me is so full
With this, and that, and this!
But at least when I am in your arms,
I needn't exist.
The luxury of not being
It is simply utter bliss.

Though these words are odd-sounding
They are all for you.
You keep my heart pounding,
One out of 7 billion (plus two.)
Though us Phantoms aren't abounding
At least you came through.
Some would call this astounding!
Nevertheless-

We are just two people;
Who found,
Eachother.

I read the article.

Not once, not twice,
Not even 3 times.
I read the **** thing over and over,
And then sought others like it.

"Emotional Abuse"

surely that's not what I had suffered.
Not something with a title
A name.

It starts with the love phase.
He makes you feel like a princess.
Sweeps you off of your feet.
(takes your defenses)

All the poems you wrote,
All the words you said.
When you told me to never change
Because I was perfect.

Then comes the part
where you take control
and make me feel worthless.

"I hate people with piercings.
Oh, not you love...of course not."
But you made sure to remind me how I was stupid enough to have them.
"You remind me of her when you say that."
"You walk funny when you're sad."
"I love you, even if your **** are uneven."

It wore me down.
And I felt
worthless.
By now I realise you emotionally abused me.

We are a label
a title
a word
a stereotype
a definition.

And that hurt, because you used to say
We were special.
I was special.
Even though...I had so much wrong with me.
It was always my fault.

And this isn't even really a poem.
It hasn't been edited.
Or loved.
But I need to say it, and i need to say it before i tell someone i know.
Or else I might have to suffer
The pity.

If only he knew how well he ****** me up.

I thought you were watercolors,
And I could wash my mind of your scent.

I pace around, half here, half where I was,
Thinking only of you.
I am lost in the crevices of your neck,
Your pulse lapping gently at the surface,
And thumping through my lips.

It seems I remember your every curve,
And each shadow that lined you.
Your jawline had me in a daze,
And your eyes held the longest gaze.

“The ceiling is wonderful…”
You whispered in a throaty tone,
And I laughed, warning you to enjoy it.
You assured me it was amazing,
Oh how the ceiling must have intrigued you!

My lips brushed yours,
And then turned to seek the rest of you.
They glided on your skin,
And sometimes they lingered,
Long enough to pull you a little closer to me.

Your breathing was shaky,
Laughing at the **** ceiling.
You seemed so nervous.

I stopped to stare in your eyes,
And you challenge me, with a longing in your voice.
“I’m still functioning.”
And so I seek down your jaw again
And hold each kiss longer,
Holding your skin between my lips softly.

I thought you were water colors,
But look at you now.
Here in my mind, stuck like a song
And keeping me up at night.

Your arms held me close,
And I held your attention.
You ran your hands over my neck,
Just to see me shiver with you.

I remember it all, picture perfect.
Your touch, your laugh, your face,
That sound in your voice that asked for more,
But couldn’t possibly handle it.

I remember it all,
Picture perfect,
The bliss in your eyes.

And we both knew I was treading dangerous waters,
For soon you’d get your revenge.

I was always more easily affected.

But for this time, you were mine,
And I could do as I pleased.
So I kissed you, and kissed you,
And you loved the ceiling.
And I felt the shivers you contained,
And I felt the air shift.

I thought you were watercolors,
Easily washed away.
But in my mind you won’t cease to replay.

You told me you loved me,
And I whispered in your ear.
(Oh how I made a meal of it,
Moving slowly up,
Breathing warmly for you!)
I whispered, enigmatic as none other,
“I love you too.”
And ended it in a delightful sigh.

That ceiling, oh how you had words for it.
So interesting, so full of life,
So nice to stare at, head laid back.
Oh how you loved the words I spoke with my kisses.
Gentle little bites to keep you on edge,
And my teeth dragged just enough,
Oh just enough to keep you mine.

I thought you could be water colors…
But you just won’t leave me alone.
And as I pace the space around me,
I am anywhere but here;
I’m home.

And you** stand out the front of your house
And you see me coming up the street
And you bound down the stairs
And you race past the Autumn leaves
And you fill my arms
And you couldn't wait another minute for me to reach you.
And...
I missed you too.

The sound of your footsteps
On the wet concrete
I carry in my soul.

When I am alone
They echo in me,
A small sound made great.

The way paper moves
When you breathe out;
You inject it with life.

So come on over
Breathe on me too
And ******* to life.

The sound of your footsteps
On the wet concrete
Sound better beside mine.

I can't find a better thought to wake to each morning but you.
Just know my heart is in the lion pit for you;
If you're going to run, go now.

You're giving me withdrawal symptoms.

Headaches
       Nausea
              Mood swings.

Often violent, swung at no-one,
                                        hitting all the wrong people.

                            Never You.

Fix me up.
Inject me.

I'm killing for something I haven't even tasted.
                     Yet.

"Indeed, tick."

Overdose.
Overdose.
Overdose.

Tick,tick,tock.

Tick, tick, tock, tick,
Listen to all the clocks, tick.
Horology drew me with all of it's sounds,
The shop here simply resounds,
I'm bound.

Tick, tick, tock, click!
Turn the key in the lock, click.
There is no quiet in this place,
But I can hear my own heart pace,
Trying to win a race.

Tick, tick, tock, chime!
All the bells go off, chime!
The time chimes right exactly on nine,
The noise is less than divine,
All mine.

None knows the hollow sound,
But me!
Up all night listening,
Listening.
None knows the auditory drowning,
But me!
Deep in my veins,
With it's deathly melody!

Tick, tick, tock, cuckoo!
Chimes weren't enough, cuckoo, cuckoo!
The little birds jump out of thier beds,
Swirling into my tired head,
A moment later, the noise is dead.

Tick, tick, tock, hush.
I mutter under my breath, hush.
I'm trying to write for my own peace of mind,
Where are the words I need to find?
I'm blind, I must be blind.

Tick, tick, tock, clunk,
The thud of the door behind, clunk.
Free of this shop and it's midnight embrace,
The ideas it tried to lace,
The end of a day.

No tick, no tock, no clicks, no locks,
Home where I await,
The sun to rise and touch my eyes,
The light can only harmonize.
And now I'm here the day is so loud,
But you help me forget the sound.

Tick, tick, tock, tick,
Even out here the clocks, tick.
All I want is the silence,
Devoid of this silly rhyming,
The silence I found  in you.

Poetic ***.
There is a song I heard,
And I read a review.
It was called a poetic form of ***.
But the *** it described,
Despite the beautiful words,
Was not at all poetic.

I should be studying right now.
I wanted to leave to game
Gaming is how I cope,
Yeah, I suppose that’s lame.
Instead of finishing my study,
My science work
(which was due a week ago,
But that I never did.)
I am pretending to be busy.
The Play Station was taken,
So now I sit here
Alone
And cold.

I’m marveling at the ring you gave me,
Tightening the bracelet strings
And checking the clasp of the necklace,
And thinking of the happiness it can bring.
I suppose I am upset.
Really badly upset.
And I thought of all people, I could talk to you,
Because everyone seems to be calling me a failure
Or making me feel like one.
Instead you don’t want to talk to me.

So I’m looking at the pictures from you I have.
The one you drew of us kissing,
The note in Elvish.
The skull you turned my eye picture into.
I’m holding two screws,
Thinking of you
And what more I can do.
And your copper tiger
And that pink stone.
Reminding me how badly I want to be “home”

I’m upset- but most of it is pride.
The fact that instead of asking explanation
You automatically assumed I’d lied.

But instead of sitting here studying
Or crying more
Or feeling bad and apologizing again
And again.
Or cursing your name and pretending you don’t exist,
I’m remembering I love you.
Because I do
I always do.
You’re sick of me right now-
By all means push me away.

Just tell me you’re okay in the morning,
Or you’re not okay.
And if you still don’t want to talk- tell me.
And I’ll be upset, of course I will.
But I’ll shut up and give you the space you need,
And I won’t apologize again, because that seems to annoy you.

Until then, I must get some sleep (if I can indeed, sleep)
Goodnight,
I love you.
Even though you’re not in the mood for me,
And I’m a little sick of you.
Because most of all- I’m just worried,
And I’m just not good at situations.

I do not exist,
Outside the rims of your eyes.
When you see me they sparkle
And you come alive.

My family looks at me,
I do not know what they see-
I think they see nothing at all.
Whatever it is,
Is easily believed.
But you rush to me,
Pull me close.
“Our love is unbelievable”
You whisper as my anxieties doze.

My friends see me,
I am needed and used.
And when the temper flares
I am shamefully abused.
You always say you need me,
But more than that.
You want me in your life,
And never on me have you spat.
Or left me downtrodden,
To hide.

My books shun me,
And spite me with the words.
My cd’s play all the wrong songs,
Even if that is absurd.
Your words seek to lull me,
In a voice like a melody.
Your melody is never wrong,
Even when you sing out of key.

I’ve spent a night not existing,
Lost without a clue.
I do not need to be sad,
When I do exist
If only to you.

I thought we could spend the night outside,
Alone, cut the world behind.
The fireworks burst,
My eyes even hurt
But I couldn’t go inside.

Your hand would grip mine,
You would make me safe.
And your heart beat would race,
Against my best time.

And I thought we could spend the night outside,
On a trampoline so wide.
The stars would trance,
We could dance,
And in our souls confide.

Your feet would move with mine.
And I’d stumble along,
As you sang your song,
And it’d be a magical time.

But I don’t know what I’m thinking,
I guess I am insane.
I thought I could spend the night with you,
And wait for the falling rain.
And yet at home I must be,
By five, mostly four but sometimes three.
I grab you close and you tell me,
It’s time to leave,

And every time I as I walk away,
The second I turn my back,
I cry.
I guess that is our rain,
Until the fireworks jump in our hearts again.

There is meadow of clovers,
And if you look further in than one would care to walk,
There are two.
The first and the second converse,
Onwards they always talk,
Beyond understanding that could be true.

They talk of life and death and past,
And always they say as the sun sets,
We are two clovers, together beyond anything.
The rest of the clovers are silent, no ears,
These are different from the rest.
They can’t hear or talk or sing.

Nothing could part this pair,
They swore to always be there.
Day and night, dusk and dawn,
You would never hear them yawn,
As with promises they filled the starry air.

One day a human came along,
To the near center of the meadow.
And simply, plucks one of the two.
And now because of some higher force,
I’m a lonely clover among the full throes,
And I’ve been separated from you.

There's a paint smear on my arm,
And it means a little more to me,
Than it does to everyone else.

It makes me smile to see my labours,
Are written all over me,
And covering me in love.

There's a boombox on my window,
A stereo on top of my cassette player,
A radio that's 30 years old.

Everyone throws these away for a minimum price,
But I adore them,
My children.

A smell rubbed into a page
Because words just **** me,
It means everything.

I open my book and inhale the scent,
Remembering when I thought,
That brand of perfume wasn't that strong.

I hold certain things very dear,
As silly as they may be,
They mean a lot to me.

Just dont return my heart,
Because it means more to you,
Than it ever would to me.

Do you want me to tell you,
I am trying to break your heart.
Do you want me to say
I aim to fall apart?
Do I whisper in your ear,
“Time to wake up from this dream”
Do I pretend you don’t deserve me,
Do you really want “honesty”?

Because if those words are what you want,
It’s my job to be your need, to try.
I’ll fall at your feet to please you,
I’ll say the words I can’t mean and sigh.
And in a hush beneath my breath,
I’ll remind you,
“I lie.”

The noise of your eyes,
It’s far too loud.
And thus I look away.

Her eyes are filled with gloom,
And screams,
For someone to notice the noise.
I block my ears.

His eyes are filled with passion,
A promise for a future,
But his passion turns too strong,
Over things not to be passionate for.
I refuse to fuel that fire.

My eyes are almost quiet,
A whisper in an empty house.
Longing.
And yet you see the whispers ache.
You hear,
And fuel the dying fires of my heart.
And whisper back to me words I do not need to hear.
For I feel them too.

The roses lift their wearied heads,
To witness my half-hearted death.
They bow in the most solemn honour
To my corpse and rotting flesh.
And as the ants try drag me together,
They only pull me apart again.
Greedy bites of my insides,
Tried and denied a new friend.
I just waited for the therapy to delete the problem,
And fought against the fight.
Til all at once I finally broke,
And I could never lose this sight.

The vines grow across me now,
Silent sepulchre to possess.
I toss and turn in my perpetual sleep,
Til there is no skin left.
As I'm ensnared in my ivy tomb,
Who left me here to bleed?
Was it your poorly executed handiwork?
Or my own special needs?
A dried zero carved with liquid,
Resembles the prisoner you made of me.
Zero oh so lonely,
But not existent to see.

Still my skin peels away,
Wind runs through my scattered guts.
And as the raw meat finally decays,
Know I've had deeper cuts.
As the last wisps of hair linger in the breeze,
Do you ever reach to catch them?
Maybe this time I'll trap you in my web,
Except not with lies, but truth instead.
You helped build this self-made cage,
I tore free past the thorns.
I'll tie you in knots of lies you made me believe
In a dead shell a soul reborn.

The bony remnants of my fading body,
A harrowing sight indeed.
Butterflies dance and flounce right past,
And never know that it was me.
They kiss my new found fatal wounds,
In beauty you'll never perceive.
I'm ethereal, eternal,
Though my internal never again seen.
I've forgotten you now,
For I've no emotion for you left.
And never again will the roses lift their wearied heads,
To witness my half-hearted death.

You know I'm in love with you,
But you’re breaking me apart.
You know I'm in love with you,
But you're controlling my puppet heart.

I cannot complain,
I gave you those strings,
I spun those webs,
I handed you those reigns.
You know I’m in love with you, but you’re pulling to tight.

You know I love you,
Perfect in my eyes.
You know I love you,
But we’re just killing time.

You know I’m in love with you,
But sometimes I need to escape.
You know I’m in love with you,
But I’ve begun to, suffocate.
You know I love you,
You know I’m in love with you.
Don’t hate yourself,
I just can’t reciprocate.

You know I love you,
You’re the safe option in my life.
You know I love you,
But is it love or crime?
Don’t change a thing,
Don’t blame your fear of me,
You’re perfect in my eyes,
You know I love you,
But we’re just killing time.

You know I’m in love with you,
But I don’t anymore.
You know I’m in love with you,
I wipe the tears that pour.
You know I’m in love with you,
I don’t walk out the door.
You know I’m in love with you,
My heart so sore.
You know I’m in love with you,
I’ll stay, til you’re gone,
Til you’re gone,
Til like all those before,
My love seems too perfect to be more,
I’ll stay,
Til you’re gone.

Cold morning,
Cigarette smoke.
Dancing rain,
On the front porch

I inhale that cloud of,
Someone else’s dreams.

Cold heart,
Lights for the show.
Curtains fall,
Over the front row.

I play the part but,
Is it really me?

Pacing halls,
In this dead house.
Night falls,
But I’m awake now.

Dawn will break again
For you darling.
Light will crash the sky
For you darling.
Just close your eyes.
Until the morning
Dawn will break for you.

Full silence
Unbidden respect.
Smashed plates
Might be the suspect.

I clench my hands and
Ache for the noise.

My voice
It talks to you now.
Where did you hide,
All of your pained doubt?

The answers are so frosty
In this air.

A winning bell,
Who’s it toll for?
Did we forget
Who to run from?

Dawn will break again
For you darling.
Light will crash the sky
For you darling.
Just close your eyes.
Until the morning
Dawn will break for you….

Break-up is when you take his things
Wrap them in his jacket
And put them away,
Hoping that through this you won't think about him.
Out of sight, out of
mind.
But then you crawl into bed and it still smells like him
So you cry.

Break-up is when you lay his vest on the floor
And flatten on top of it
Collapsing.
Just to cry into it that you're sorry, "I love you, I'm sorry..."
Then throw it to the corner like it's trash.
It isn't.

Break-up is when you put on all the perfume you stopped wearing
Because he said he liked the smell
Of untainted you.
Then you vow to wear one
Every day
Until it makes you sick at yourself.

Break-up is when all your poetry turns free form
So that you won't send it to him
And your friends know it's serious.
Every poem ends the same;
Before its time
And dramatically.
Just like the last time you kissed.