I stay awake and wonder
what you think
when you hear my name,
what you think
before you go to sleep,
if you think of me at all
because I absentmindedly smile
when I hear your name,
I think of you
when I can't sleep at night,
I think of you a lot,
and I walk the Earth hoping
you think of me the way
I think of you.

It used to be a garden with
daisy chains and flower beds,
a little girl with a flower crown,
laughter in the air and butterflies around.
Then came the storm,
it stole the charm.
The once innocent girl lost her sight,
warm eyes turned cold as ice.
It was then guarded by razor blades
and the sky had darkened a couple shades,
no longer the breathtaking sight of flower beds.
This little girl was now made of stone,
the happiness had been withdrawn,
and along with the garden,
the innocent, once-happy girl was gone.

And so the seas of
fresh and salty
liquid pain lapped at
the cold, pale cheek,
painting it the color
of transparency
reflected by the
anything-but-happy
young girl.

It was sad to know that
the only thing to lean
my head on that night
was the cold, tiled
bathroom wall
as my demons had me
at choke hold.

You decorate my mind
like the stars decorate the night sky.

I could jump into the
dark, wavering oceans
as your eyes and find
little parts of me that
captivated me since
the first glance.