Is it too much to ask
For someone to say
'How are you?
And how is your day?'

Because if I'm honest
That's all I need
For someone to show
That they really care about me.

Because I sit at home
Alone all day,
With these voices in my head
Wasting me away.

They're telling me to cut
'Pop some pills, you won't be sad'
And I just need the confrontation
That it's making me mad.

All I need is a shoulder to cry on
Someone to wipe away these tears,
A companion in this mess
Because I've been like this for years.

Always alone
And never with a smile.
An extroverte living like an introverte,
Lonely all the while.
                                                       (K R W)

I don't know how yet
Or in what context
But all I know is that one day,
One day
I want to tell my story.
Of love, heartbreak.
Life, death and wanting both.
Trying to run away but instead getting lost in the haze that is my mind.
Finding comfort in a packet of cigarettes because they're really the only constant thing in my life right now.
Of failure, regrets.
Moving in body but static in mind.
But more importantly I want to be able to tell people of how I recovered from this never ending battle of self hate and loss of time.
I want to be able to finally say 'I wanted to end it all, because that - at the time - seemed to be like the easiest, most painless way out. But I didn't, and now I'm here, I finally made it.'
                                                       (K R W)

I wonder,
If ever you lay in bed at night
And like me before the tears threaten to fall
You think of all the times we shared.
The good, the bad and everything inbetween.
To a time you'd say I'd make your heart melt just by unexpectedly waking through your door.
Or a moment when we'd argue over sheer nothings out of fright of losing one another.
Because I always do.
My mind is always drifting off to a place where you would whisper sweet words into my ears or where I'd be kissing the red hand mark on your face trying to take away the pain I've inflicted.
I hope you have that with her now.
Moments that aren't filled with big gestures but little ones that stay with you forever, because times like now?
I feel as though they're all that's holding me together.  
                                                     ­  (K R W)

It’s been months since we last kissed
and I’ve been trying to figure out why love sounds more like an apology
than a confession when it comes from my mouth.

I came to the conclusion it’s because I have been emotionally unavailable
since I learned that no matter how much you love someone
it will not make them miss you.

I find myself surrounded by those who have left more than those who have stayed
so often they start to blur together.

You once said that loving me is like
constantly struggling to come up for air without ever being underwater,
but you didn’t notice I was suffocating under the absence of everyone
who had promised to stay.

Someone once told me “leave before they love you,
or you’ll stay until they don’t anymore.”

You were writing my name in cement and I was carving yours
in trees marked to be cut down, saying
“this is what happens when someone ruins you before you have a chance to ruin them.”

I’ve fallen in love with you more times than I can count,
and I’m not sure if that means I’ve fallen out of love just as many.

I kept showing you the way out because I wanted to see if you would leave
or find a way to lock the door.

I was too busy tearing them off their hinges
to notice you were desperately trying to bolt them shut.

I guess it’s only fitting I’m left asking the windowpanes where you went.

I think of the things I want to say to you like “it’s for the best”
and
“maybe it was never that good anyways”
but when I get the chance to say anything I know
all that will come out is I miss you, let me stay.

I’m trying not to let this bitterness leave a bad taste in my mouth
but you never saw the point of someone else’s lips on yours
unless they made your teeth shake,
and all I can ******* think about is you leaning in first for anyone but me.

The weight of your absence is so heavy
I can’t remember what it feels like to breathe without gasping.

There are a hundred different ways to say I miss you
but I’m stumbling over every single one
and I’ve realized you can only write about someone so much
before the only thing you can write about is the last time you saw them.

They say you’re only as good as the company you keep,
so I guess that’s why I haven’t been doing so well since you left me.