And it's okay
if you flinch
every time he moves
his hands too fast

because in another time,
you were just
defending yourself,
and that is all right.

And it's okay
if you still skip class
every once
in awhile

because in another time,
that was the only time
you could catch a break,
and that is all right.

And it's okay
If you stay up all night-
making friends with
your bedroom walls

because in another time,
sleeping meant dreaming,
and all you really wanted
was reality,
and that is all right.

It will all be okay
in the end.

To think I've wasted so many beautiful words on you.
All these poems mean nothing now.
All of these verses just add fuel to the fire of my bitterness.
I'll douse them in gas,
throw them above my head
and set them ablaze while they rain their eloquent ashes down  upon my melancholy soul.
Arrangements once soft and light hearted
now fill me to the brim with negativity that I want to regurgitate back into your mouth and watch you drown on all the stress you caused me.
I want my pain to fill your lungs like fire and pepper spray,
searing through to what's left of your callous heart.
You never deserved me.

What can I do to make you love yourself again ? You literally make me the happiest person on earth. When I wake up you're the first thing in my mind and I dream about you when I sleep. My whole day is preoccupied with thoughts of you. When I think of beautiful sounds I think of your voice. When I think of beautiful sights I think of your smile. I wish I could do something to make you see this is all worth while. I want you to love you the way that I do. When you look in the mirror I want you to see a person that emanates light from all your pores and supernovas in your iris. You're all the good things I could never find in myself. My other half. But I've blinded you to these things through my own moronic action and ethical pitfalls. And for that, I'm truely sorry... I love you so much... Please don't leave me..

It was wrong to love you,
I knew that.
Sneaking and skulduggery.
A web of lies.
Lies that tripped me up,
Lies that I believed.

Now that I think back,
I know that you wove those webs.
But I liked being caught,
I liked playing your game.
I loved you.
I thought you loved me.

I'm sorry that the pores that litter my untouched skin don't drip normalcy on everything my shaking hand tries, and fails, to grasp at.

I'm sorry that I'm not the mirror that you wished me to be.
when you looked into my eyes you hoped to see yourself,
but all you saw was broken pieces and sharp edges.

I'm sorry that you asked for galaxies and stars and I provided you with a black hole,
consuming my being in on itself,
leaving you cold and lifeless.

I'm sorry that I don't fit the mold that you've sculpted everyone else into,
I guess I'll remain a lump of clay,
unique not like the rest but also cold and quiet.

Maybe one day,
I'll stop being so sorry.

I am made entirely of scars and bruises that could never possibly heal or go away and the spaces between them are places I've left open for you to use as you please.