i miss you
as the rain pours
my tears follow
falling to the ground
in a storm of emotions

when you and i...
are apart, for a longer
length of time
i find....

i am a lop-sided,
mis-shapen thing.
stumbling along..
a straight and
narrow road.


simple things,
take more time
and difficult things,
are well... too...difficult.

it is not that,
i can't cope.
i do....
but life has,
become more
of a chore.
and less, of a game.

and it is the seperation.

i blame,
for the colours
becoming dull,
for the words
lacking purpose,
for the heart
beating  too slowly,
for the sun
losing it shine,
and food, it's taste.

and for me,
becoming a....
whinging, whining
waste of space!

lop-sidely,
stumble-grumbling,
along....

Her scars are only reminders of the pain she went through,
the giant black hole she was stuck in for so long, that she never thought she'd get out of.
She never thought that she'd find someone kind enough to grab her hand and pull her up out of the hole and through the dark.
She didn't find anyone,
but someone found her.

He took her hand and looked into her eyes,
wondered how someone so beautiful would ever want to harm themselves.
He was there for her through everything.
He brought her out of the dark, and into the light.
He tought her how to be happy, how to love, and be loved,
He taught her what real love felt like and how to love herself.
He taught her that a mirror masks everything and lies to you.

He is the light that shines through her,
he is her smile and her laugh, and every inch of happiness within her,
he is her life.

He is the only light she has ever known.

She looked at me like I was a crime scene,
so fragile, yet so horrific that she didn't know what to say.
Instead she cried,
she cried simply because her daughter was gone.
She cried because her daughter felt so alone, and took her life.
She cried because her daughter couldn't find a way out.
She cried because she didn't even notice the pain that her daughter hid, and she cried because her daughter hid the pain so well, like she'd had plenty of practice.
She remembered the hot days when her daughter would come out of her room wearing jeans and a sweater despite the blazing heat.
The days when her smile seemed a little off, too forced.
She never had a clue that her little girl was falling apart right in front of her; slipping into oblivion.

She looked at her daughter lying on a metal table in a morgue, naked and forever exposed.
She grabbed her hand and began to cry.
"I'm sorry," she sobbed.
Her skin was so cold and so pale.
She thought to herself, "if only I was there."
She tried to tell herself it was okay, that it wasn't her fault, but she knew it wasn't okay and it wouldn't really be okay ever again; and that if she would have just asked maybe she wouldn't be standing in a morgue, mourning the loss of her only daughter.
She found herself asking so many 'what if's'
but what if's were inevitable, and it was too late.