I get out,
And it's dark,
I can hear her whispering.
The darkness sheds,
And my heart seems to fade,
With each step I make,
Her shadow follows me,
I can't escape.
Where's my light?
I come home,
And she's redecorated the house again.
The rooms look the same but are rearranged,
Or do they look different but still in the same space?
I can feel her sink in and embed herself in my skin,
And I try to take a shower,
And I try to scrub as hard as I can to wash her away,
And I can feel my body cry and scream,
Telling her to leave,
As if depression could leave when you asked for it to leave,
But she just stays.
She stays.

And with my final words,
I tell her,
"Depression, please go away."

The new moon rises,
And the day has just end,
Here I come to my pillow,
And a worry filled bed.
The trees sing with the wind,
The wind floats and swims through the leaves,
My mind is ready to commit sin.
I must be insane for doing this again.

A lavender bed,
Where we were to lie in,
The soft green carpet,
That would tickle our feet,
Seems a bit expensive to keep.
The trees, they weep,
Because the birds sing,
They sing of their missing bird.

A hungry pup sits on the porch,
Forgets its appetite in hopes of its friend coming back.
The pup grows old,
And thunder appears one day.
The pup goes inside.
The pup whimpers,
Sad because its friend is not there to comfort it.
Poor pup.

3 years have passed,
The pup is a full grown dog.
The birds have stopped singing,
The trees have stopped weeping.
Pup no longer waits,
But just sleeps.

The bird comes back,
With a new tune,
The full grown dog,
Recognizes the voice.

"It's been so long",
Said the dog.
"What took you so long?"

"I got sidetracked,
And needed to see the world."
Said the bird.

"I wish you came back sooner."
The dog says as it takes its last breath.

The bird chirps their song,
And finally says,
"I wish I did too."

She managed to forge her way through my forest of tainted leafed thoughts,
Torn ****** memories,
And a ripped, corrupted bible,
She became the book I could read over and over,
While expecting a different result,
Am I insane?
The soft pillows of her smile crawled all over my body and landed on my collarbone, hipbone, chest, and forehead.
The small wrinkles I have around my eyes and smile seemed to always let her in,
Even when she's never asked to come in.
The curves I have fit perfectly into the cups of her sweet nourishing hands.
She left her fingerprints on me.
I swear I didn't see them sink in.
I don't know how they got there.
She left her thoughts in me.
I swear I shredded them.
I don't know how they got there.
How would I know that she could ruin me?
Her fingertips would fly across the frets and I'd sit there idly, wondering why she let me stay there.
The tips of her hair would reflect against the sun's rays and I would think they were little snowflakes.
She was the dark midnight sky,
And the trees would sway in awe because of  her pulchritude.
She was harmonious,
The way she blinked with her dark straight lashes fit uniquely with the way she stepped on the cracked, root showing, LA pavement.
The way she spoke and the way her lips moved made you wonder if she was singing.
And if she was singing,
Could she sing your name?
The way she wrote and the letters that were painted made you wonder if she was an artist,
If only she could sketch you.
The way she breathed with the slight sighs,
Made you want to breathe the way she did.
She made you want to write poetry.
And that all made you uncomfortable.
You wish you could just hit the restart button and have no saved changes.
You wish you could have just removed the tangling thoughts of her that slithered into your head.
You wish you could just walk away without second thoughts.
But there's only a tiny part that wants that.
Only a tiny part of this points to heart
Wishes she'd never existed.
The rest would let her slowly make your mind intact,
Even when you know that's not possible.
The rest would give up nights only to think if she was thinking of you too,
The rest would give up sleep so she'd have the best sleep ever.
The rest would stay up lonely, so she wouldn't be.
The rest would let itself be the paper she'd scribble on about how she wants to leave this dead end town.
The rest would do anything.
Anything for her.
Always.
I swear I don't know how this happened.
I didn't think she'd mess me up.

I feel your skin,
And taste your lips,
I see your eyes,
I hear your words,
I smell your hair,
You always linger on my clothes,
I hear your steps,
Walk along an empty broken road,
I hear your voice faintly yell,
My name,  
I think that's where I'll go,
I rush and run,
Wait for me,
I say,
Don't leave me behind,
I don't know what I'll do,
If you say you're not mine,
Look at your watch,
It's not time to go,
Just wait a little longer,
I'll come home soon,
This poem is a *******,
And I can't help but cry,
I can't help, but wonder why.
I wonder how much time you got,
And wonder if I steal some,
I wonder how long you'll stay,
On my empty path,
Full of cracks and shatters,
I wonder if you smell me when you're home alone,
Or if you hear my voice,
Laughing at what you'd think I'd find funny,
I wonder if every song reminds you of me,
I wonder if you think of me while doing laundry,
I wonder if I'm constant thought,
Or an occasional event,
I wonder if you want to scream my name,
When you break a dish,
I wonder if you touch your lips,
While thinking there's something amiss,
I wonder if you picture me in bed,
With me wrapped around your arms,
Do you want to be wrapped around mine?
Because that's fine,
More than fine with me.
I've felt your skin,
And tasted your lips,
I've seen your eyes,
And now I wonder why,
I heard your words,
And smelled your hair,
But now wonder why you linger there,
I hear your steps,
Walk along an empty broken road,
I hear your voice faintly yell,
My name,
Yet there's no one when I turn,
I'm going crazy,
That must be it,
It has to be a lie,
But for once,
I actually thought someone might have wanted me in their life.

Tomorrow, I will sing a song,
Tie every note,
and sing as if it were the epitome of beauty,
Tomorrow, I will sing a song,
Full of he said, she said,
Full of me wanting to believe,
in my so-called reality,
Tomorrow,
During noon,
the wind's grasp upon me will be cold,
like the nostalgia I have for last year,
Cold,
like how I've been imagining their words,
if they were spoken to my face,
rather than read through text,
Tomorrow,
Predictably,
I will sing the saddest song,
A song that reeks of blue,
and looks like a mixed emotion,
sounds like a cliche,
I know,
The lyrics will be about distance,
how they kidnapped my favorite person away from me,
How the moon still feels lonely,
even when the sun comes up,
and glances at the moon for a second,
because though the great big star rises,
the moon is still alone,
people sleep and don't pay attention to the beautiful blank moon,
but when the sun comes up,
everyone's out and about,
The moon is the definition of solitude,
a poet once explained how my soul is not satisfied,
and it is true,
I have cursed at the stars that do not comfort the moon,
for the moon seeks comfort,
not neglect,
I can hear the moon speak to itself,
saying,
I might've loved the sun,
I might've not,
oh, but how I loved the sun,
yesterday,
let me go back to yesterday,
So the moon can spend its last night under the bright stars,
dancing by herself,
So the gentle whisper of the wind will feel like a soft touch,
rather than a punch in the stomach,
Yesterday,
Let me go back to yesterday,
To when the moon speaks her last fluttery words of her joy, the sun,
Yesterday,
To when I wrote my last poem,
With the cold hands I bared,
when I carved the name of the sun onto an ice cube that could not melt into my aching pores,
yesterday,
it feels like today,
Let me prepare for tomorrow's song,
For the moon,
Until then,
I'll stay here in today.

Oh,
Little does she know,
And little does she see,
She's the one I want,
And I want to be with her for eternity,
And I,
Can't find my place,
But she seems to be the space,
I want to be in,
Lord, lord,
Now,
Help me now,
I can't believe she picked me,
Oh,
She picked me,
Why did she pick me?
Oh,
*She picked me.

A ripple in a calm lake,
My almost constant headache,
Almost because it's only when we talk,
via Facebook,
And few words spoken,
Eye to eye,
Headache,
Because I almost pull my hair out,
From her lack of words of her own,
While I ramble on,
Like this poem,
A foreign country,
But somehow feels like my bed,
Same butterfly-printed blankets,
White linen sheets,
And purple pillow,
A brown-eyed girl.

Takes a picture of oneself,
And deletes it.