Forgiveness, I've found
isn't a conscious effort.
Part of loving someone,
is that everything about them,
big or small, temporary or permanent,
is a part of them:
part of the person you love.
So there's little point apologising to me,
if I love you,
because I love you.

That's all there is to it.

High above us, unreachable until they choose to fall
are the words we crave to write, in this moment.
In a few minutes, we'll want to write another tale,
another heart wrenching emotion.
We will want to show the world that we can feel,
but soon, I wont know why I wrote this,
because the clouds will have shifted,
and so goes my inspiration.

My body shall decay
and worms will live in my eyes,
maggots in my nails,
and maybe a dog will eat my face.
But eventually, what I used to be
will become new;
my blood and bone
will be re-rooted into something:
a tree or a flower or a ****.
Me, in my little wooden box,
living my new life.
But not yet,
because this one
is awesome.

We feel better when the sky owns up to the bleakness of the world; it turns grey and endless and it cries with us. We hide from the sun because it warms our skin and lies about a better tomorrow. Ice bites our noses and rattles our teeth- it makes us feel alive but it too, is swallowed by the warmth we have taught ourselves to hate. We are fighting for happiness but waiting for the warmth and the flush and the laughter to end, that we might envelope ourselves once more in our depression, anxiety and pain.
But I am tired of my cocoon of misery; this atmosphere filled with the sensation of waiting for rain. You three are my best friends. I have made an astonishing number of mistakes in my life but loving you is not one of them.

So I will wait for rain with you.

**And I will revel in the sun when you find it.

I wish I was brave enough
To show the world
All that I write about you.
But they are not ready for the world,
Or maybe I am not ready to share you
With the world.

Everything around us is chaotic and painful,
So keep your arms tucked in and your seatbelt on,
Or it might hit you how **** everything is.

My head is burning,
Slamming, boiling, screaming
In agony at the pressure.

No matter how bright,
Now matter how fragrent,
Everything fades
And smells like rot.
The smell of old books,
The colour of old life.

"A window to the soul", you say.
So you, my friend can see in.
But they are our window,
With which we see outwards
And we show our emotions.
Happy tears, sad tears, angry tears.
Or no tears, and no emotion.

You don't see me through my eyes,
I show you.

One day, you will get pushed to the edge;
The edge of your seat, or the edge of your mind.
And you will snap and burn and explode,
All the while getting smaller and smaller,  
Farther and farther away.
Away from me.

You're already loved,
I was just there.

Late at night, or early morning:
The moon, a hollow reflection of day,
The blissfully ignorant lie alseep
And dream of the life they'd love to live.

The terribly knowledgeable, they lie awake,
Knowing that at night, demons come out
And howl at the souless reflection of the sun;
Knives and guns and hands.

The blissfully knowledgeable sit awake
For a time, looking and knowing the horrors
Which haunt the world but are content,
Because life is about death. And hope.

To love unconditionally,
Without restraint or guilt,
Is all I want to do.

To be loved unconditionally,
Without fear or-

*oh who cares, it won't happen.

What a lot of bother,
This love thing.

I let it play for the first time in months,
My mind shut down and heart
Squeezed with sadness.
Because we promised each other
So much
And this was your favourite song.