The scar tissue that covers my forearm fades more with each year, And I wonder if any of you notice.
Each disfigurement is marked with a name.
Every single line contains its own story, and holds its own pain.
I could narrate it for you but I doubt you'd understand, very few truly do.
The stinging pain can creep back with a subtle memory, and I can still feel it.
I can remember each scars meaning but I can't explain to you the feeling of how it felt,
Or what type of clarity came over me,
Or how great it felt to be flooded with relief,
Or what I was hoping the outcome would be,
Or if I made it deep enough to sleep forever.
You might think I'm crazy.
I can never make you get it.
I'd be lying if I told you these stories ended happily.
This isn't a fairy tale,
This is reality.

I want to light 

My couch on fire

Because whenever I turn the corner

All I see is you 

Running your fingers

Through my hair

While I’m looking up 

Smiling

Then I blink

And you disappear.

I don’t keep 

My phone on me

Anymore

What’s the point?

Your name won’t show up

And everyone else is white noise

Compared to your bass

That revived the butterflies 

Making them dance in

What now is a vacant space.

I’m thinking 

If I keep myself busy

Maybe my heartbreak 
won’t catch up to me

But this day will end

I’ll run out of breath

The pinnacle of my anxiety

Crushes me like a train

For now my nightmare is living

A sunset without you again.