Your hair was back but your hands were nothing but close. I can't remember what it feels like anymore to hate a touch because now it's all I desire. That look in your eyes was threatening but baby you could **** me and I would still give you everything I have.
The sensation of your entity twirling around mine only makes me wish you were here to give me that look one more time.
Put your hands around my throat.
Turn all my previous fears into sinful wishes.
Put your hips around mine and I'll scream your name as if you're leaving forever in my wake.
Stay with me until you come up and I disappear because we run nothing but cycles and I want all 365 days of this annum with you.

My only friend,
I've been in this room for so long that the paintings on the walls have turned into motion pictures. Everything seems to be laughing at me and my lover has been sea sick since I left. The tides are rising and every minor thing makes the waves crash inside of me. I feel like it might be the season because this is about the time where we sink every year but find ourselves in fast paced rewind at the exact moment it started. When I close my eyes to the resting waters I can't take away the screams in my head. I don't know if the paintings even want to be around me anymore. I'm lost at sea and the ship is out of life rings.

I left my life to join the circus only to find that the animals were louder than my demons.
I left my life to go swimming with my inner friends only to find that they drowned out my real self.
I left my life to keep running from my own two feet only to find that they'll never be away from me.

I like the sight of the night sky because it reminds me that there is life outside of mine. I remember when I had the galaxy in my eyes completely burn out and the only way I knew I was still breathing was looking at the moon that billions of people were under struggling with the same feeling. The stars in my eyes have glistened once again and I'm not letting meteors crash through my soul any longer. So look for the planets within my body and Ill take you to places you've never been before.

She had skeletons tucked away in her closet so maybe that's why she grabbed onto the nearest spine. Maybe her step father made her shake until she fell and that's why she held my hand. Maybe he said "let's play a game", so she passed it down to me.
The way the sheets fluttered around my throat has left rings around my neck that I still stroke when I see my reflection. The way her laughter echoes in my ear has only made mine louder just to mellow it out.
I hear them in everyone. It's a set of ghosts that just won't leave my walls. They claw at my spine. They rip at my veins.
People wonder why I don't sleep, I don't sleep because they each scream in a different ear. One screams "you're worthless" and one screams "I'm almost done"
But they're never done. They never leave. They scratch and they bite and they moan and they cry.
So when will I stop crying? When will I stop blaming myself? When will I stop cutting my wrists to make them go away? Right now I'm thinking they are forever with me. The ghost in my walls. The reasons I rattle.

I still remember how your hands felt around my wrists. I felt every single settle squeeze as you kissed my neck. I hated it. I hated every single disgusting second of it. You didn't do anything wrong, you were just the unfortunate boy that couldn't have my heart or purity.
I still remember the music. I only knew you for two weeks. You were much older. You looked at me like I was the meat beneath your teeth and absolutely everything about that made me cringe. I know it was all malice. Nothing but malice. As soon as you took off your shirt I lost my breath. As soon as you bit my collarbones I cried out. No. I don't want it. No I didn't want it. You whispered sweet I love you's in my ear. I don't know how you could love me without knowing my last name or the way my eyes looked sober. I have never gotten dressed so fast. I have never ran so fast. I have never screamed so loud.
I heard him in you two. I boiled off my skin like that would make it go away. Like that disgust would go away.
I saw her in your eyes. I heard "let's play a game" in my head.
Echoes. So many ******* echoes. Now all that remains are the voices in my head.

To finally be intertwined with the one on your mind is so bliss. Your hands fit oh so well on my curves but I bet they feel even better just a tad lower. My mind has never raced so fast at such a settle heartbeat. Every settle pulse vibrates through my body and I just can't bring myself any closer to you. Baby fill me past my line because I can't do it for myself. I can't do much for myself in the first place. Tuck my hair away. Leave those chills down my spine with every blow, kiss, and bite. Tell me you love me even if you don't know if I can return that. Keep the smoke filling in my lungs so you aren't the only one making me this numb. Hand me a drink so I can fall into you with every piece of me I have left. Grace me with your touch because I've been craving nothing less than that for months. I just want to feel you. Put your hands in my hair before we fall asleep because in the morning I need a tug so I can stay there because I've been so used to running I just need to hold on.

Stuck in the past like every single person who enters will be just like him. I wonder why I'm so forgiving but I swear I don't wonder about my trust issues. I have every right to not believe an "I love you" when it approches me. I laugh at apologies. I swear at the world. Because. Why. The. ****. Not. I'm broken but you aren't allowed to call me that. I'm drowning but you aren't allowed to save me. Tie bricks to my ankles baby I like it. Scream in my ear baby I ******* like it. Hold me down I like it.
Let me scream.
Let me drown.
Let me break.
Let me fall.
I'm stuck in the past by everyone who has come in my life but all I see is you.

I always used to wonder why you were so cold. I wondered why you never left your room and why you could never be seen. I remember the night I listened into your room and you spoke so lightly. It had been months since I heard your voice so clear. You said "take me I'm ready"
I asked God why he made you so sad. I asked God why he let this man do this to me. I asked God why you held that rope so tightly.
I remember the first time I ever cut my wrists, it was crimson and bliss. I asked God why he let me do it. I asked God why he let you do it.
I remember watching you pop them like tic tacs. I watched how fast you could clean the house. How fast you moved, talked, and how loud you screamed.
I asked God why you didn't want me. A man answered back with a hand. I asked God why I deserved that. I asked him to not let you go.
I remember when I sat outside your door asking for a hair dryer.  I knocked for 10 minutes. When you finally came out I saw the look on your face. I asked God why you wanted to die. I asked God why I did too.
I remember when you got taken away and I eventually stopped asking God such things.

The heartbroken always become the heartbreakers. If you don't agree, spend the night with me.

I promise I wasn't hurt from the fall. The smack of your door frame was my wake up call that I wasn't swimming I was sinking. It was like the pills and alcohol were my go-to when nothing else around me would spin ; in reality they were the weights on my ankles. Sinking, sinking, gone.
I thought I was in your room, I thought I was in your bed. I thought I heard you talking, but that was your sister's worried voice asking what happened over and over. My lip was bleeding, my face was bruised and I kept thinking it was just your kiss and the way your words hit my head.
It wasn't. That night was the death of me.
It was the death of that pill bottle also.
I wonder if you still think I was sobbing from the pain. Mentally, yes. Physically couldn't compare.
I wasn't sad from you. Trust me, your arms were the only stable place I thought I had in this world. Until I found out that you were just the vortex of lies I grew up with.
I wanted to love you.
I did.
You couldn't return that and I know you tried but I know I was just the unstable mess that couldn't wash out of your bed.
I apologize for ruining things for you and myself.
I still think of you.
I promise.

Dear Dad,
This is my first letter I've ever written out to you. I guess words run through my head everyday of all the things I wish I could scream at you. I don't know you. You don't know me. The last image I have of you is the time you set me up on the roof and told me about reality, I didn't know what you meant at the time and I still don't. I still dream about the overlook of where I was sitting and how your voice sounded when you talked passionately. Fast and sharp.
I heard your mom died, that's unfortunate. I shrugged when I heard the news because she was never really nice to me, she never talked to much at all for that matter. I remember your crazy sister also. She always had barbies and lollipops. I used to think they for me when I was younger but I know now that they weren't and she was just stuck in a childhood she never received.
It's really hard not having you around, or anyone around for that matter. Anyone who has tried to come in my life has only shown me what the strike of a hand feels and looks like compared to the fatherly image I have always wanted. I just decided to never let a man in because they all **** up. Girls do too I suppose. All relationships are ******. I like being alone anyway.
Mom talks about you sometimes and we constantly listen to your favorite songs. She misses you. I just personally hate you for picking such stupid things over me. Many people ******* do that and I only see your ******* eyes behind them. It's hard looking into the mirror because everyone says I look just like you. Act just like you. Talk just like you. *******. I hate being compared to your ******* being and you have left me with nothing.
I think after I finish writing this I will have a funeral and think of creative ways that you may have died oh-so-young, because when people ask what happened to my dad I can feel more confident about the answer "he's gone".

Sincerely,
The daughter who will never let you back in.

At first I wanted to be the only one you wanted, now I just want to be the only person who doesn't want you.
I used to think about the way you kissed me before we fell asleep, now I just think about the way you left me before I drift off.
I used to laugh at your corny jokes. Now I just laugh at everything I hear about you because the only thing that's funny is the concept of what we were.
All my best friends became yours and now I'm out of the picture all together. I guess I am used to that.
I regret kissing you that night, because then maybe I would still have my friend instead of resentment.

Civil disobedience is not a moral obligation. Moral obligation is an act of belief and self values. So if you feel the need to break a little law to fight for what you believe in , then yes, go for it, but obeying the laws may also be part of your morals. After all the police brutality that we have heard about on the news, some people decided to stand up and protest. Even I wanted to protest downtown because I found it absolutely ridiculous that people were being killed without extreme cause by police and they only got a slap on the wrist. There are always two sides to a story. So am I obligated to rally because of inequality displayed on the media? No, not really but due to my values I would love to. "But through the other method of combating injustice, we alone suffer the consequences of our mistakes" which was said by Ghandi. It can be applied to the protests, to me it means we can scream our opinions and we can make an impact, but some will be damaged and some will be arrested in the process. Sadly, the thing we were fighting for in the first place will be served and protected. So what is justice? What is civil obedience when our enforcement can't even comply? I guess we aren't obligated to anything.

I tried really hard to be mad at you and blame you for the way we panned out. I did. But then I realized that you were ******* beautiful and honestly one of the greatest lessons. I don't need you and I never really needed you, I wanted you. I spent so much time breathing for you and trying to figure out why you couldn't love me but I know you did and that's why we weren't gonna work. You can never invest yourself into someone when you are dead. I'm dead and you are dead and we never had a chance to heal. You just need a chance to heal. Maybe love will never be your thing and maybe it's not real at all. Love has no definition and love can't just be spoken and it can't be acted and its not a real emotion let alone an essence. I enjoyed being with you, like physically around you and that was love when we were together. Outside of our bubble when we were home sitting on our phones writing about each other or just pretty much anything that was completely different. And maybe we weren't meant to actually be together but we were meant to teach each other. So yes. I understand now that you aren't healed and you have every right to want to be your own instead of being claimed as someone's. "You're mine" is a statement that can be so scary when everyone you ever let call you theirs completely ****** you over and left you thinking that everything ends badly so why begin it. So I get it and I thank you for giving me a chance to be vulnerable and let my walls down for once.

Dating a writer seems to be some kind of relationship goal. It seems so heavenly when you read a piece they wrote about you, but what happens when everything they ever wrote ends up in a box in the highest point of your closet because you couldn't dare to take it down. I promise you the words of loss will impact you more than the words of "love" that they promised were oh-so deep.

I really like pills and cigarettes and things that can **** me but haven't yet. I really like how fast it's draining my life but I really just want it to speed up. I really like when I get so mad that I can't feel because feelings can genuinely hurt. I take away that hurt with 16 to my head and filled ashtrays that scream teen angst.

The only time I feel alright or even remotely close is with you in my arms watching the smoke from the cigarette fly around the tops of the ceiling. Both are killers, but **** would it be bliss to die like this. Can you tell me why you could quite possibly be the only reason I can stay sober right now, because lately I crave the little pink pills that make my world blurry but I'm okay right now here with you.
The only time I don't feel so ******* alone is in this big bed where we remain silent because there's absolutely nothing to say other than this is right. Maybe it isn't right but who ******* cares because I'm not cutting and I'm not downing and I'm not drinking and I'm not smoking and I'm not trying to test my life but only trying to test you.
Kiss me. Just kiss me for a second, because that is the only time that I am safe. I would compare you to something home is suppose to be but lets face it, that's nothing but screaming. I guess that's what my head does when I'm right there beside you though.
So tell me we will be alright for 3 more nights and you can go back to pretending you love him or trying to figure out what ever the **** he is even in this for.
The only time I can hold my composer is with you. Here or there it doesn't ******* matter, just with you. All I know is I don't feel like I need to reel my way to death and maybe that's something dark or maybe that's something beautiful.

I am an empty body. No one will fill me again. So I'm filling myself with 15+ pills and cheap alcohol. I guess you could say I'm playing with my life, maybe I am. Maybe I'm trying to see if this ******* higher power will take me instead of healing me. I can't tell if that's what I want, I don't really fully know what I want anymore.
Death just seems so easy for a living dead girl, it's just a little more darkness and a few more goodbyes. Who would notice my absence? I suppose I don't need to tell anyone that I'm leaving. It could be easy. I could leave and everything else would fall into place, yes? They could be happy together. He could get his closure. She would get over it in 6 months tops. It would be okay. Everything could be okay, because at this point I know I can't be.
*So take me I'm ready

Its November 26 and my mom still hasn't noticed the empty bottles of Tylenol and Ibuprofen under my bed. Those pretty much became the end to hunger pains when I stopped eating. Its not that I don't like my body, I don't really have a way to excuse myself for fasting at all. I guess eating just became another thing I was disgusted with.
Its November 26, in 28 months my dad will be out of prison. I wonder where we will go then.
Its November 26, no one can say they love me without a "but" or apology following it. I guess nothing changes, so ill just change myself.
Its November 26 and I've given up on cutting and moved onto bigger and better things. Why hurt myself when I can down a bottle and avoid scarring? Works for me.

It's November 25 and I'm wondering if I've become less vacant than I was two months ago. I still drift off in the nothingness of the white walls. I still black out during my showers, then find myself laying the tub. My bathtub has become a safe haven to me. That's ironic, you know? 2 years ago that was the spot I tried to open my veins and watch the demons spill. I'm still worrying about the downfalls of tomorrow and if it's worth waking up anymore, but at least I can smile again. That's a start.