The best heart stopping experience
It doesn't sound healthy
But without it I would die
Seeing the texts my very soul begins to fly
My heart then stops to see what she has written
Maybe she has become braver than I
Maybe she has said those fatal words
The words that will stop my heart
The words of "I love you"
Alas it was not so
So along with my gloomy but hopeful life I go.

I was covered in gasoline
And with the ghost of a smirk playing on on your lips,
You dropped a lit match and set me aflame.

Thick black smoke swallowed me whole
And I felt your fingers dancing across my skin,
searing a path across my body.
I can't see the difference between pain and ecstasy,
(maybe there isn't one at all)
But I can't think of a more violent ecstasy
Or a more pleasurable pain than you--
the beginning to my end.

All that's left to you now is cinder, ash,
And a whispered "I think I love you..."

last night i found out that you still hold a cigarette between your lips and i just want to smack your stupid face for not quitting,
but what hurts me even more is that you didn't offer me yours and i have been thinking of buying one pack myself and drowning myself in pity and coughed smoke/

what i hate to admit is that you look even more beautiful with a cigarette between your fingers but i refuse to go back to my old self, to the old me who loved the boy with no heart, with smoke in his lungs instead of air, the boy with charming smile, because he wasn't even real, it was a person my mind had created in hopes he would become even more beautiful than he already was/

but at least i hope you had fun on new years and i'm thankful that some girl's lips weren't pressed against yours at midnight, but i don't love you anymore, so i don't know why i even care/

but even with smoke in his mouth, i knew i wanted to kiss him and savor his taste, which i only had presumptions of-
maybe his tongue was a mixture of mint and hurricane or strawberries and sun kissed rose pedals or maybe chocolate and rain but i felt dizzy and out of place when the realization hit me that i will never find out how his lips tasted and felt against mine/

I am not a daisy yet your words cut me down.
Neither am I a rusty bucket, yet my eyes pour out.
My throat is pained with the words that refuse to come through, can't you see?
I am broken, and here I cry out in need of help.
Help me, I lied, I am not okay. I am not fine.
Life is a daily struggle, a horrible one of mine.
I need someone, it used to be you, don't you remember?
Now I have no one. No one indeed.
My hands have not ceased their shaking, my heart, quickly palpitating.
What is this called? This place I am alone in? Hell? Purgatory?
My soul is damaged, please leave me be.

A lot has happened since I last looked at the girl in the reflection, and I mean really look. Look into her blue green movie screen eyes and scorn that sarcastic smirk and wonder why she lies so much.

Strangely enough, on some days I am beautifully broken glass, and I am able to accept that. But some days I am still fifteen, and I still wish more than anything I never have to feel that way again.

Yet, those days that I'm fifteen sometimes mean so much more than the days I'm average, the days I'm nobody special. The days I am broken lead to make the days I am elated to be even brighter, like sunlight. They make my cheerful days ones of pure sunshine.

I have finally solidified friends who accept the darkness and the light, and love me regardless. They have been welcomed into Wonderland and to not turn nor run. But Wonderland is another place in another time that should not be spoken of here.

So I digress.

Her story is still the most foreign yet familiar ting to me, for I still pretend it didn't happen yet know so fully that it is my life. New people have joined the ranks of those fallen from me, and many have also joined themselves to my sides. Some days are perfect, some days are hell, but i would have it no other way.

I am beautifully broken glass and the stars in my life, those I show affection for and who return that love, accept and possibly even love me for it.

And that's all I could ever wish for.

I work.
Everyday without fail
I work.
It is tough
Grueling
Painful
Arduous
Work.
But I do it
Not for Riches

For you...