"He doesn't deserve you" she whispered to herself, but her emotions betrayed her soul,
She looked and felt older, her heart slightly colder, because loving him had taken it's toll,
It was a one-way street in which to him she gave it her very all,
but he was never there, he never cared, he didn't even try to prevent her fall,
She made excuses for everything wrong and told herself he could find redemption,
it seemed as if with him, her perfect sin, she could always make an exception,
He made her feel as if she was hard to love, and she would always wonder what was wrong,
She would lie awake at night and wonder why with him she couldn't be strong,
There came a moment when it all made sense, she knew what she had to do,
He wasn't worth it, and he never could be, because you can't love someone who doesn't love you.

If you loved me as hard as you ****** me, maybe we could turn this into something extraordinary. Instead your hands caress my curves as you try to pound the sadness out of me. But here’s the truth, if I loved myself even an ounce more than I hate the person I have become, there’d be no chance in hell that I would be between your sheets wanting to crawl out of my skin. I would be glowing in the arms of someone who holds me like they’d lose a part of themselves if they ever lost me. So here I am fighting back tears as you tell me how good I am. Finally breaking down, “I never meant to make you cry” as you just watch me sob uncontrollably. This is who I’ve become, a reflection of you. Yet your still the only person I have eyes for.

I see the way you look at her.
You can't deny the attraction.
Why don't you do the honors?
Subtract me from that fraction!

Cause our relationship is only half of what
it was.
You had me drunk on love but now I'm just
slightly buzzed.

You can't talk about long distance relationships until
the only way you can hear his voice, is through the voice mail he made
6 months ago

You can't talk about long distance relationships until
you can no longer feel his arms around you

You can't talk about long distance relationships until
you forget the colour of his eyes
and the shape of his jaw

You can't talk about long distance relationships until
the faded memory of his laugh breaks your heart
because you can no longer hear it

You can't talk about long distance relationships until
you say I love you to him
and his grave says nothing back

You can't talk about long distance relationships until
you're in love with a boy
*six feet under

life has become a jumble
of tear stained pillowcases
fake smiles
and memories of you
four hundred twenty three days later
you still have all my thoughts
every endless maze in my mind
is me chasing you
but i can never catch up
and now i'm just walking
turning this way and that
hoping i'll turn around
and you'll be looking for me
you'll smile and tell me
you always planned on
keeping your promise
and then i'll sit up
look around my dark room
and lay my head back on
my tear stained pillowcase
36,547,200 seconds later

The pain never really goes away, does it?
I sighed in realization that I accepted a part of me would always be dark, and broken; while the other part of me still wondered why things turned out this way.

Because when you look back at the memories, you remember the good times. Smiling, happy, free. Or so you thought. But just like you and everyone else around you there was a sickness inside of her.
An eternal sadness.. something that can’t be fixed overnight. Or by one more hit. But she didn’t know that either.

It’s not how she wanted to end up, alone and scared; desperate for a needle to subside the pain. But it was what she knew, and she had no one else to rely on in that moment.

I think about that morning over and over, I overanalyze and try to remember a detail I missed, something I could do to go back and fix this.

But the damage was done.  And you can spend days, months, years trying to change the memory and the destiny that landed at your footsteps

But your fate is sealed, and you are different now.

Forever changed, by grief; a tragedy you hadn’t written into your story. It wasn’t a mere bump in the plot, it was a **** catastrophe.  But  now it’s yours to carry, and it’s yours to overcome.

And I’ve been trying.

The raindrops are Morse code outside my window
tap tap tapping secret messages like
“The trees told me you’re lonely”
“I’m sorry”
“Stay in bed”
I watch as they roll down
and I want to capture them
keep them in a jar
and listen while they whisper sweet nothings
about the soil and the clouds
and in return I could ask them
why the earth cries or maybe
to explain the art of sliding down walls
and puddling at the door frame,
maybe take notes on how they
make it look so graceful.