my favorite sound is the sound of the sharp intake of breath you take,
as my lips move from yours to the outline of your collarbone and lower,
tracing every inch of you as if you're a map and my mouth is the pen,
just finding another route to travel on.

My pen is a blade and the paper is my skin, my words cut deep as the blade does my wrist.

The worst part
Isn't the pain
Though it hurts

The worst part
Isn't the sadness
Though that's horrible

No,
The worst part
Is the emptiness

That feeling
When you don't see the step
And you fall down

When you try to sit down
And someone's moved the chair

When you reach for support
Only to find it's abandoned you

That is the worst part
Of saying goodbye