I am your masterpiece,
I am what you made me; every stitch and every crease.
Like the finest tailor, you cut me open at the seams,
And sewed me back together as a quilt of your insecurities and dreams.
I was hand-stitched and handpicked to bare the weight of your pain.
And in my strength you found another string to pull time and time again.
Before I collapse and fall apart, you sew yourself into me,
So instead of all the holes and tears, it is only the beautiful patches that they see.
Your strength was drawn from my frayed and fragile heart,
I am your creation; I was built for you to use and tear apart.

I used to write for fear of forgetting.
I stopped writing for fear of remembering.
Your arms loosening from around me
as you said final thoughts of us.
Your taillights trailing down the street.
Mirroring the floodgates from my eyes.

Now I have the typewriter you gave me.
An incessant reminder of all the words I never said.
All the words that are too late to make up for time lost.

I wrote to you anyway.

Without the intention of winning you.
Only hoping not to lose you,
the only person who could scare the **** out of me
and make me feel like I was floating
using one stupid look
that made me fall ceaselessly and unnervingly
in love with you.

I wanted you to know
that all of my convictions
that true love and fate
were just lies that are spoon-fed to us
so that we aren't starved by an empty life,
it all wavered when you smiled at me.

I want to tell you
that I used to never have dreams
and now you're in all of them.
Making reality that much harder.

Every letter was returned.

She opened the cabinet
Took the pills,
one too many would seal the deal She broke a glass
And took a piece
She held it in her pearly teeth
She spat it out and began to spin
Piercing her own porcelain skin
Crimson drips run down her arm
Pooling at her feet like rain after a storm

She plunged into her sadness
Bricks tied to her feet
She wanted to drown the demons
She gave in to defeat
She thought it was the only way out, who cared if she didn't come back?
She tried to destroy the demons
And by this destroyed herself

It wasn't the heartbreak, no.
It wasn't the anxiety or lack of motivation.
It wasn't the drugs that killed him.

I think that he simply got tired
Of all those lined up houses
In his neighbourhood.


F.Z.**N

Try to help everyone,
But I'm the one who's losing..

timid breath of winter
shy and silent
sigh, gasp and shout
the cold at its peak
slowly comes the winter,
slowly comes the grief
as sadness fills the valley
when words are brief