I guess I'll never understand why my body aches and heart feels as if it's gone up in flames. Why something as simple as the sun setting makes me cringe and the thought of you drowns every ounce of emotion I have left onto this ******* page. It's time for me carry the damage that's done and get on with the rest of my life because you've left me to believe that life is as little as you make it out to be and for a girl with high hopes and many heartbreaks before this very one I must go on even if my conscience tells me this is where I belong.

You're something so mysterious and I haven't quite figured out why I crave your every inch so much but I can never seem to get enough of you and if I had the chance I'd hold you in my arms instead of my conscience during the hours at night where talking to you became a habit and so did the scrawls that followed in your shadow.

I don't know if it was the music
or the thoughts
that this occurred after
but I'm drowning in the water
of my own and the melodies
are washing me away
and as I try to keep ahold of life itself you're pulling me under
like an anchor in the sea
but there is no chain to pull me back just my body fighting the weight
and tide that follows behind
splashing depression
in my face and sending more
emotions up my nose
making it impossible to breath in anything except the pain you kindly handed me

pain has sank into the crevices of my soul & left me drowning because every bone in my body is traced with your name. melodies are screaming and I wish I was bleeding. I'd allow myself to drown from blood but not the weight of your name along the curve of my spine. my eyes are puffy and inside deflated. I've cried every ounce of water in my system and am expecting to die of dehydration while sailing my way out of this world in a river of tears of my creation. my insomnia has only grown worse and watching the sun rise every morning has become a tradition of bad habit because I dread for the hours of daylight where I can pretend I'm okay and draw a smile upon my face that is slowly becoming less innocent to the naive and more rebellious by the minute. but even pretending can go so far before you're entire fantasy comes crashing down and you're standing in the aftermath wondering, where the hell did I go wrong.

I've been handed the guilt without a choice like my mom was handed the news paper every Sunday morning, though instead of my words appearing in thin neat print they're scrambled a crossed this ******* page that each of my tears has stricken tonight. my words are crumpled and frayed soon to be burning in the pit of my stomach where you never had the chance to sit. but like the fire already started, my mind is spinning through the constellation of my own and seeping it's way into the black hole that i planted upon my wrists the night when my insomnia was at it's worse and you were lost in you're own fantasy. though I wish I could say the same the only thing lost in me were my thoughts about the two of us because they escaped somewhere between chasing the North Star and coming to find my smile on the moon.

I'm trying to explain but nothing's coming out and it's like my tongue is cramped and fingers twisted, though i continue to think I know exactly what I'm trying to say. my words are running off the page and weaving around my mind that was left untrained for the hours of dark where I let you in. you've been resting in the pit of my stomach where I used to fill with ice cream every evening until you slowly turned into the desert that I'm craving. you've taken away the obtuse nostalgia inside my own constellation where I wrote your name many times before. you're the North Star I see in the sky when I've lost all hope and I'm the smile on the moon looking right back at you.

if I could down your words like a bottle of ***** at three am or use your terrible punch line to throw at my wall instead of my hand i would write your story along the lines of my liver and trace your response upon every knuckle. and if there was a way I could remove the pain from your past instead of the blood from my wrists and inhale every cigarette so that you would stop, you'd have no memory left of what has happened and I would have smoked my life away days ago. but because I cannot do these things, my level of addiction becomes very hard to express and I hope you come to realize that you are my bottle of ***** at three am, hand being thrown at the wall, ****** wrists, and pack of cigarettes. if you believe that I have become an addiction, imagine how addicting you are to me.