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L Smida Jan 2016
I'm wasting my time
She is never coming back
She can not come back
L Smida Jan 2016
I found love
And when it was torn away
I wasn't ready
I stopped my clock
And now I am living a lie
Trapped in time
I see her in my dreams
I feel her in my heart
I roll over at night
Wishing she was there
For me to hold onto
I still cry
I still miss her
But I wear a mask
I tell everyone that I'm great
But I have nightmares
And every day
I smile the best crooked smile I know
And it's good enough to get me through
Half the time I can't breathe
Hot tears sting my cheeks
But I just wipe them away
Before anyone can see
Back to bed I go
I am broken
I can't feel anything but pain
I am in love
And I cannot function
I cannot move on
I lay in bed
Unable to move
Unable to face the world
Clutching my pillow
Hoping one day
I will wake up
And she will be sleeping next to me again
I don't want anyone else
No one else can make me feel the way she did
Even in my dreams
No one will ever compare
L Smida Jan 2016
Frozen in bed
Buried beneath the weight of dread
Unable to break the covers
Unable to meet my feet to the ground
Unable to face the world of lies
I just want to stay here
In bed
I see her
When I close my eyes
My dreams have become my reality
She feels real
Her breath
Warm on my neck
Her hands
Soft on my face
Her body
Curled around mine
I don't want to be anywhere else
I want to be lost here
Please don't wake me up
My bed has become my portal to my dreams which are now my reality.
L Smida Jan 2016
I am coerced into loathsome desperation
Unable to elicit a feeling of existence
All because my dreams violently clash with reality

I cannot prevail
I will not survive
I am weak

Failing to hunt down a sufficient supply of motivation
Buried beneath the world of paperbacks
Scrambling to bump into an emotion that will jump start my heart

An adrenaline ****** suffering withdrawal
Tormenting this flaccid ***** in my chest
Please, someone tackle me into relapse

Every attempt to ascend from darkness
With each crash and burn
Extracts the impossible truth

I cannot feel
I do not care
I am dead

Where is the spark that I used to lust for?
Am I Blind or Broken?!

I need to feel
I need to want
I need to prosper

Taunting a pair of keen eyes to electrify my neurons
Demanding a bitten lip to punch a hole in my gut
Slamming bodies against bodies into doorways

Grabbing confidently
Kissing forcefully
Unbuttoning frantically


I can't

Love and Lust are one in the same
I can't coddle one without the other
My butterflies are broken....
L Smida Jan 2016
I am in loathsome desperation
This lack of feeling is drowning me
And I can't find a sufficiently safe distraction to break me through the surface
(I'm not sure I want to be safe)

Buried beneath the world of novels
Living vicariously through characters that I wished were real
Scrambling to bump into an emotion that will jump start my heart

I feel dead
I want someone to punch a hole in my gut with their lips
I want someone's touch to ignite the fire
(I want to meet an arsonist)

Where is that spark that I used to lust for?
Am I blind or broken?
Possibly just lost

Suffering through horrified adrenaline withdrawal
I'm a ****** for standing on the edge
Please, someone push me into relapse
I am no longer capable of feeling butterflies.....
L Smida Aug 2015
I have no conscious left to guide me through this one
My brain doesn't know how to handle all this hatred
There are no options left

I will not waste another exhausting moment trying to understand
My heart doesn't know how to handle all this pain
There are no options left

I had never been so ******* caught off guard
My soul doesn't know how to juggle all these broken pieces
There is not a single ******* option left
*******. I hate you.
L Smida Aug 2015
With the night
Comes coldness
Seeping in quickly
In time
Becomes darkness
A flicker of a flame
Barely serving a purpose
Silently hoping
That someone notices
The pitiful smoke signal
The slow sad light
Holds my long lost gaze
For countless moments
I am
And forever thinking so
And careless to feel again
And undeserving
At everything
Refraining from the worst
But the impulse is torture
Desperately in need
Of a body
For comfort
When suddenly
A voice
From the depth of the shadows
Calls out
Too low and deep
That it pokes at my imagination
The voice steps
Into the poor pitiful light
"Do you want a beer?"
He saved my life and didn't even know it
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