I could be the person who knows you
best
but god knows you aren't ready and
here we are in the void
this ******* space that makes no
sense
you and I
we are in it
even though I never asked to be

rejected postcards from friends tells me
I shouldn't be here
but you
you roped me in
you chose me and I didn't know I'd
get this deep
you were it
you gave me a fake cushion for the
chair
and the hard seat hit harder
and I felt so pulled and stupid
but god knows you weren't ready

on saturday I bought myself a dress
and you bought yourself more time
in my head

i've decided that
i could **** myself,
but instead, i'll find the words
that will do it for me.

I need to stand out
Like typos in a paregraph

Caught in a Tornado,
I tried to reach the eye.
To my dismay, I found nothing on my arrival.
So once again I threw myself into nature's breathe,
only to be greeted by a zephyr.

He threw caution into his red cup.
He named his drink the forget-me-not.
This would be the night of remembrance.
One-fourth Sprite and three-fourths *****.
The crisp wind greeted him as he stepped outside.

He charged into the night.
Forget-me-not.
He babbled with his friends.
Forgt-me-not.
He took another sip.
Forgt-me-nit.
He danced with a girl.
Firgtn-e-nit.
He drank every drop of his forget-me-not.
fIrgtne-nit


He went till the break of dawn only to be swept up by the wind.
The next day he woke up with saliva crust down the side of his mouth.
He had forgotten.
The night forgot him.