for all of the words chewing at my throat
your name keeps rising to the surface
it ****** me off how my own body asks for you
when you never even take the time
to ask me how i am

why the hell should i take the time
to tear myself apart over you
when i have already done a good job
of tearing myself apart for being alive

never love a sick girl
never love a girl who pops pills
to get her through the day
because when you leave her
you leave her dead in the water

how do i
get my heart back
when the person
it belongs to
refuses to acknowledge
my existence?

i stopped
breathing
and my
soul
left my
body
but my
ghost
is still
here
and refuses
to leave

my emotions
are scattered like
stars
creating tiny
nebulas
and universes of their
own
within me

i am not
a person
i am an
endless galaxy
of feeling

maybe
i am just
searching
for home
on the wrong
planet.

you ruined all of
my old favorite songs
by fastening your memory to them
like buttons on a coat

now every song i play
seems to be
part of the same jacket
because every song i play
sounds like you

i love him still.

still
because it does not move
still
because it does not reach him
still
because it is not ignited
by the fire
within his fingertips

i love him still
and he loves me not.

maybe
you are not
shaken
by the past
because
it is too busy
clinging to me

you have
every right
to be
disappointed
and i have
every intention
to die

I want to
save the world,
but I cannot even
save myself;
so please
do not
ask me
to save you,
too

it is the
end
of an era
that i
believed
would
last
much longer
and i could
blame
it on
a million
things
but none
as much
as myself

she has a few friends -
a pair of earphones,
and a red devil brand
box cutter

she only smiles
when you ask whats wrong,
and talks to her pillow
about her day

until one day
the sun rises
and peaks through
her bedroom windows
only to find
that she will
never rise again.

they always said
her voice sounded like
flowers blooming
in the dead of december
and her hair was long
and gold
like spring,

but behind her
curtains of hair
they spoke of
a supposed
venomous tongue
slipping through
her angelic
vocal cords
and a mistake or two
that they put on display -

so no wonder
she retreated
to an eternal
hibernation
where they only knew
of her warm voice
and her ethereal,
golden hair.

if you
choose
to step
into my
hemisphere,
i will not
apologize
for the
rain.

i cannot help but feel
that i am clinging to
a corpse
after the dog has died

the flesh is
rotting
and my bed
reeks
but i cannot help
but come back
to this
every night

falling
doesnt necessarily
mean
down,
but maybe
coming to
terms
with a different
level
of the
environment

the cuts
fade to scars
quickly
but the scars
remain
indefinitely

the thorns
that cover your heart
seep out in words
dripping in violent
context

and i am merely
building walls
to protect myself

so do not tell me
that i am cold