I do not want to feel the pain of missing you.
I don't want to walk to the end of my street without a hand to hold, and I don't want to stare at sunsets alone.
I don't want to sit next to an empty swing at the parks we roamed, and I don't want to only bid you goodnight through meaningless letters.
I don't wish to seek the comfort you bring, and the dull ache that follows when you can't. I don't wish to be so dependent on your presence.
I do not want to love you in the way not spending time with you stakes me.
But I still love you in the way missing you means ultimate sadness.

To be in love is to be sad,
when your side doesn't meet mine in bed,
when a message sent stays unread,
when not even a day with you fulfils
the ever filling cup of need I have for you.

To be in love is to be scared,
if this time is the last to hold your hand,
if you've had a change of heart,
if you're not sharing enough of what
I want to give to you.

To be in love is lonely,
thinking of all the time lost when it's not shared with you,
wanting to slip in the bodies of other people you talk to,
just so I can be close and never miss out on you.

But to be in love is to be comforted,
a reassuring shoulder for tears to splatter on,
a lantern in the dark, a hose to the fire;
to be in love is to smile, to free the mind and soul,
to entwine heartbeats even when days grow old.
To be in love is to be fearless.

To be in love with you
is worth it.

i shall remain as a hidden piece of a puzzle,
puzzling myself to pieces on why storms
swirl daily around the absence of my brain.
and on this rainy friday afternoon it should be no different;
wondering how i came to be, perched away
in the back of the room to watch a flood of unfamiliar smiles.
when did i become so lonely and outcast?
the dread of not liking most of the people i'm around dawns
and my jagged edges of a puzzle piece emphasise.
i do not fit with these people. they are
too sure on their happiness.

If I sit on my roof
and block out the light from my house,
I can forget that I exist.
I can swim among the constellations
and lose myself in the bittersweet triviality
of our existence.
I can break free from the intoxication
of my life wasted on autopilot.
I can pretend that I am merely thoughts,
free of the weight of a life
and of society
and of reality.
I can question things
and depersonalize
and forget this anchor of a body
and all its bitter consequences.
But,
for now,
all I can do
is lay beneath the stars
and forget.

knees;
games too rough and concrete too hard,
a cry heard from across the park,
a healed wound covered by a playful sticking,
and a slip up cared for and forgotten.
i can carry on with a smile;
i had thicker skin when i was younger,
times when tears were only shed at accidents.

heart;
a once unrecognisable beat of ecstasy,
put on repeat when your face surfaced,
when your fingers met my surface,
but they soon dug in too deep and left scars.
now pieces lie around my feet and red drops
leave my aching hollow chest from where you took
a once alive merchandise of our love.

nose;
too much caring leaves me astray
in a dark city awaking at late hours,
craving something that can leave me numb
and forgetting parts of my thoughts exist.
trails of white disappear in a sniff,
a sigh of relief, and i know just for now
i am not doomed.

wrist;
a bathroom door locked,
water running freely just as crimson joins it.
watching the flood of the last thing i feel
as skin stains, eyes drain,
nothing is worth it.
i am doomed but at least i
controlled it.