I wanted to tell you that
this cut on my leg
wasn't a shaving accident.
That the beads of rubies
weren't from clumsy fingers,
but from strong trembling hands.
I thought I'd tell you that
I enjoyed the way it felt,
the idea that I was alive --
that string of scarlet pearls
was proof that I had a heart,
that it still beat --
no matter how faint.
I wanted to wear the red jewels
around my neck
as some sort of prize.
No,
as some kind of evidence
that I
          was
                 not
                       hollow --
                 I'm
         still
here.
Try to wipe them away,
but they only become
one of Van Gogh's strokes --
beautiful.
meaningful.
I am alive.

Three weeks ago you were telling her how much you missed her at 4am. It must have been the alcohol...because you have avoided her ever since. The amount of texts she sends to you with no reply is almost embarrassing, but more than that it's painful-your silence screams volumes in her ears.

It was her birthday three days ago...and you said nothing. As the sun began to set her heart began to drop when she realized the one "happy birthday" she was waiting for never came. And that's when she knew it was over. You've let her down multiple times...but never quiet like this.

You destroyed the one person who would drop everything for you, who fought for you and loved you with all honesty.

So, she confused a lesson for a soulmate and because of that she is broken...but not beyond repair. You see time and Jesus will heal her soon enough. And when she's too busy enjoying the simple beauties and marveling at what it means to be alive-someone will walk into her life. Someone who will protect and cherish her heart instead of use it for selfish gain.

The storm you set on her is now a light drizzle...and soon you will be nothing but a mist

She will wake up one day and the memories won't haunt her, because now she is strong enough to finally put the past in the past. And all you will be is a distant memory with a lesson learned, and you will lose all power you ever had over her.

You say you love me.
You don't know my biggest fears.
You know my favorite band.
You know my favorite color.
You don't know my dreams.
You don't know my greatest struggles.
You don't react when I tell you
I lost my virginity by force.
You basically tell me it was my fault.
You say you love me,
You say you love how I feel
when you're inside me.
You say you love my eyes.
You say you love my ***.
You say I'm ****.
You tell me to turn that **** off
when I put on a song that
makes my heart sing.
You criticize my ideas
and make me feel stupid for
even thinking in the first place.
But it's okay right?
You said you love me right?
I believe you, right?

I am still looking up
Still looking up
For you