Our memories are the last little remnants of a garden
Morsels once dedicated to our time together
Now just a place to rest in peace
I remember when plants flourished under the fluorescent moon
And we waltzed past mums and lilies
Interlacing our fingers with promises meant to be unbroken except
People end up changing just like the seasons
And now solemn figures dance through
Laying down teddy bears and picture frames on top of snow
Reminiscing with loved ones through weeping and tears
So I fought back my fears
And drowned out all my feelings
Forgetting the winter night terrors
Every bottle of whiskey a sweet reminder of your words milked with honey
Just like you used to call me
The golden warmth sent me back to summer
While sitting under the sun
Digging dirt under our fingernails just for fun
Becoming a slave to a place called
Security
A place bursting with hues of green
Where birds hummed peacefully
Roses and tulips stood softly
And boy
Were we whipped to a place with such purity
Where we could get away with anything
But a heist robbed us of our safety
Slipped us from our sanity
Stole our color, our music, our peace
Left us with nothing but weeds
Little patches of dandelions called
Our memories

To feel disconnected; a petal in mid-fall past it's stem. It lays on the ground once walked all over, its footprints swiftly blown away by the wind. The rain trickles down, washes over the phantom mounds, and hopes for at least one destination that hasn't already been found. The thunder cracks, the lightning strikes, and the trees tremble at the sounds. They don't even remember how terrifying it felt to be sun dried, decaying beneath the rays of hot wrath. But the next day, a rainbow appears and a new hope arises when the sky turns baby blue. Excited new flowers bloom, but a few weeks later, the petals of those begin to wilt too.

I went two months
Now almost three
But last night I heard your laugh
And now it's really hurting me
Made me think about
What you heard before
The loud ring that echoed
Between your fingertips
And your dreams
And I wonder if that's why
I have trouble seeing
Why things are showing up
In sets of twos and threes
And all are shapeless bodies
Doing rain dances
That make me cry senseless
And I'm pushed outside
Without a raincoat
Standing with a wait list
Waiting on explanations
That only come in a form of a
Suicide note on a stick-it
Written between the lines of ink
Are the only pieces of you
That I have left
But I cant keep it because
The cops want it for evidence
To prove that you were too ******
Just like the rest
And it makes me sad to say
But we had so much in common
And now you're gone
You're flying high today
Makes me think how I shouldn't
Have let you borrow
That stick-it note
That I was supposed to use
One day

Turn down the temperature because I'm feeling a bit feverish without your cold stare stalking down my skin. I got used to the depressing weather, the knitted sweaters, the legs warmers that kept myself together. Glowers felt like blizzards and I felt mad all the same. You crept through my dreams with your delicate face, your wind chapped lips smirked at my every mistake. God once sent me a vision of us heads back, hands clasped, looking as if we'd shared the most fondest memory, but a hand washed over the vision and said I needed to be taught a lesson. With every passing moment, you became increasingly more distant. Soon enough spring came and I saw the difference in the way you looked at me. I turned green at the thought and thought that maybe I had just been hallucinating, but the drugs had come cheap and you no longer loved me. This time God didn't send me a vision or tell me a story and I began to wonder if this whole lesson had just been a  misunderstanding.

Once in a small pink diary, a girl doodled pictures and wrote words that had order and sense. Her mother loved her very much and she had many friends. She wrote about all the things they did and her dad took her to the ball park to play catch.

Once on a school research paper, she wrote about innocence and how it could be broken by other peoples' absence and her thoughts were scattered and her mother gave her concerned looks and her friends began to ignore her. That was the year she lost her glove and her dad starting drinking again.

Once on an index card, she wrote a bible verse and on the back she asked "why" as if god might answer her question and her mother screamed at her for smoking and her friends hated the smell of anything menthol so they stuck up their noses and left. That was the month she quit playing sports and her dad got sent to jail for driving while intoxicated.

Once on her wrists, she wrote a novel about how the only way was up and she wrote it in red ink and her mother was banging on the bathroom door and her friends were out somewhere buying beer. That was the day her father got bailed out of jail and found her in the bathtub with the water still on.

Once on a grave stone, two specific dates were written with a phrase from her favorite book and her mother cried and her friends wiped away her tears. That was the moment her father got sober only to have a reason to start drinking again and hurting all over.

When you leave a dark place, you don't realize what it was that you had left. But when you come back a month later you realize how it was all ****. Your car got wrecked and your dad lost his job again. Your mom's stressin' over finances so she starts poppin' her pills early in the mornin'. Your house becomes foreclosed and now you're living with your aunt wearing clothes too tight because you eat when you're upset. Your cigarettes give you fresh menthol breath because you lost your toothbrush during your last panic attack and now you're sitting next to your alcoholic dad in a ******* rehab. **** gets dark when you come back from the light and **** gets dark even when it's not at night.

Young and innocent, she was soon turned toward all the violence.
Everything she loved turned to stone cold resentment.
All of her built up pain finally hushed her to silence.
Everyone around her was happy but she was just reporting for practice.
Too bad she wouldn't make it to the tournament.
She's breaking herself until her fragile body is ready to drown.
There's tears falling from her eyes, creating a waterfall of her every last ounce.
She's humiliated now with nothing but things to bring her down.
She's ready to let herself go.
She grabs a sharp knife and hopes that it will give her some type of high.
With each cut, the blade slices into her soul.
There's nothing left but her soon-to-be ghoul.
Her friends that ignore her make her job a bit easier.
Thank god no one important ever cared about her.
She goes home and writes that **** note.
There's a lot of scribbles and a lot of what-ifs, but she finally decides that she needs to get on with it.
She goes to her favorite place; the one with the cliff.
She goes to the edge and suddenly becomes weightless.
About two-thirds of the way down she decides that she was being ridiculous.
Too bad she didn't realize it before she thought she found her new bliss.

Her eyes are stained glass.
Glazed over by the mocking past.
She wants a break,
But getting what she wants never makes.
She yells out "Why are you doing this to me anyway?"
Life takes this as a challenge and gives her a curse.
Who knew that her life could get any worse?
She sits at home
With a knife to her throat
The kiss of the blade
gives life a flame.
She feels more alive than the eagles soaring high.
What makes her sore,
Are the red drops falling from her neck to the floor.
She was meant to feel this way.
Everything in her life was leading up to this day.
She's too afraid to get away, even when her distance should be safe.
She watches through her window and sees tears falling from clouds needing a cheer up.
She feels like a cloud.
Overseeing every detail.
Filling with wet drops of emotion.
She can't continue to contain them.
When she lets it all out
She causes a conundrum:
Floods of anger and sadness
Tearing houses apart
Poor families effected by her dying heart.
Suddenly she gets caught in the wind,
It takes her around to places she's never been.
She wants to leave and be safe, but instead the wind chases her and closes off every escape.
They're going in circles,
Destroying things of those she thought she loved but can't have doing what she's done.
She regrets her self pity and her thoughts of "it's all about me."
She can't stop thinking about herself
and how she needs to hang her life up on a shelf.
She takes out her pills and lies on her bed until she's completely still.

My feet are on concrete.
I guess that means I finally left my bed.
I've lost all my dignity.
Will you please get out of my head?

You stay without paying rent.
It's not fair to me.
My mind is full of lint.
I don't remember you ever doing your own laundry.

I'm walking to your house.
God, this is embarrassing.
I'll try to be as quiet as a mouse.
I don't want to get caught reminiscing.

Is it bad that I still care?
I'm so bitter about it.
I'm running out of air.
I'm free falling into a pit.

Somehow you caught me.
I just can't forget.
Your eyes told me something,
And it was more than needing a cigarette.

You told me you were numb and empty.
I could hear it in your voice
And I told you I was so sorry,
But you chose to ignore the noise.

You said "I hate everything,
There's nothing left to love."
And again I'm so sorry
That I wasn't good enough.

I had a dream last night and in it you actually cared, but as I woke up in my bed, I understood that you were never really there. I went back to this memory of you and me, and we were dancing. So close and genuine; beautiful intimacy. Things are not always as they seem. So I walk outside and I come across a scene; I see a night full of stars who got burned chasing their dreams. It's not selfish to leave your own legacy so why does it come with such harsh extremes? I wish you were with me. I swear it's all I'll ever need. I miss the familiarity of our fingers intertwining and the prayers we said after sinning. Our faith pushed us through the evening. And now that you're gone, I just can't stop forgetting. I'm sorry for how I stopped believing because now all I'm doing is popping pills with Jesus on my mind and smoking menthols using ashtrays made of the only bible verses left that I can find.

Rules for punching walls:
one- every time you leave a knuckle imprint on the wall of where he once held your hand, it is just god saying you’ll succumb to giving him another chance.
two- every crack surrounding the holes is just a reminder that the little things add up and eventually become a religion that is also made only of broken promises.
three- the place where bruises covered your hands were supposed to be reserved for a ring when you got married but instead it got the clotted blood of jesus that he never shed.
four- the ligaments under your skin are only torn pieces of what was supposed to be a holy congregation but a rapture happened and now your mind is in sacred places.
five- don’t worry when people look at you like you’ve gone completely insane because that just means they’re finally living in your fantasy. there is no heaven or hell.
six- when your x-rays come in and you realize your entire hand is broken, give me all of the reasons why you ever loved him. was it all really worth it in the end?

I am empty and beyond hollow. I am a cave in which monsters dwell to wallow. They fill me with sour melodies that make it hard to swallow anything that isn’t as sweet as your words of honey. You don’t speak them to me as often as you used to and I’m wondering if it had anything to do with me not meeting up to your expectations. I think of all the times doubt was seeded in me and I couldn’t break the limitations. Anything that wasn’t more than what you wanted wasn’t worth your timely expenses. I’m sorry I keep apologizing in my head for all the wrong reasons, but my insides are shriveling and I am shrinking to nothing like you forced me to succumb to be because I know my words will never mean as much to you as they once had and the only thing that is comforting in knowing that is finally being able to destroy the life I once felt the need to have. Everything I once did was to please you because I loved it when you were happy but I wanted you to be happy because of me which is incredibly selfish and I’m sorry that I couldn’t forget about myself long enough to help you find real joy in something that was everlasting. I wanted to give you music and pieces of writing that could relate to you so you would feel better about who you were instead of being so hateful. I wanted you to understand that. You made me feel more alive and for that I was grateful but now I feel just as dead as I go down in a spiral.

The way I still cringe when I hear your name or tense up when I hear your voice makes me wonder when I finally became mentally insane. It’s only been a month and a half, but it feels like an eternity of emotional pain despite constantly swearing I’m inane. I’m in this trance where I keep repeating every memory between you and me, hoping to figure out where it all went wrong so I can gather the right tools for fixing but then I remember how I was only a pawn for your drawn out game of apathy and not caring. I’m sorry I was so useless when it came to trusting because you trusted me when I continued doubting and that ****** you off because no one was the least bit understanding but I think I’m more understanding now because I know how tough it is when you’re trying everything by becoming the person that they’ve been begging you to be, but they’re too obstinate to be convinced that you are capable of actually caring enough to be redeemed. And god, I’m so sorry that while you were struggling, I was playing with my inconsistency and constant insecurity and entitlement to your attention and affection even though it made you uneasy. Things would have been so easy if I wouldn’t have ruined everything and I hope you also miss the way things used to be. I wish things would still be the way they were, but when the tools needed for fixing are broken too, the final product isn’t worth as much as something that is brand new.

My roots are depression
And my heart is rejection
My limbs are falling
In every direction

I'm planting a forest
Full of dead trees
My soul was dearest
Before my life started shattering

There are animals living inside me
They're all rabid beasts
You were important to me
Before they made me stop caring

Night lock is growing inside me
And throughout my body
I know I'm becoming deadly
It's inevitable, you see

I am bearing poisonous berries
And the animals can't stop feeding
It's an endless cycle
Of my inside's internecine

I hear birds chirping
They must've broken their wings
They want to get rid of me
So they start clawing

I'm ready for some peace
But my grave is too shallow
Where will they bury me
I've become so hollow

They'll burn me instead
And the forest that lies within
Soon I'll be burnt to ashes
And be nothing but dead

I cried a little on the outside
And died a little on the inside
Whenever you left me
I gave up on ever being satisfied

I wish I didn't feel empty
Because this sadness is hallowing
And it's making me wallow
Until I weep

I just want to taste happiness again
I barely remember it at all
I remember all that gin
And cigarettes from last fall

Which is irony at its finest
Because I look at you
And you were the saddest
From my point of view

I remember your eyes
And how much promise they held
It was something I despised
Because it was a future of fails

Your negativity was a disease
To all of your humanity
You became so numb
And so unwilling

Your music saved you
But only temporarily
I wanted to save you forever
But you got up and left me

That tore me apart
Because you never cared about me
You were just bored
And I was the closest thing

Sadness tastes like the weather
And it's storming down here
The rain is flooding our hearts
And making it difficult for any new starts

I'm stuck in this tornado
Being tossed at everything I don't want to know
I'm getting sick
This isn't the life I wanted to pick

This golf ball sized hail
Is making my life feel like hell
Falling on everything I believe in
And turning it into something I cannot stand

The wind is pushing me in every direction
And making me feel too much emotion
It will ruin everything
All because I chose to feel something

In a few months
There will be a drought
I'll want to drop everything and run
But there will be no way out

I'm running in circles now
I just want to get better
But I don't know how
I don't think I can stand this any longer

I quit everything I'm not the best at and I think that's why I quit loving. I turned it into this twisted idea of possessive obsessing instead of the sweet incense of passion burning. But with eyes as cold as mine, I always extinguished the flames that worked hard to singe everything. And I guess that when you left, you were like the sun that grew apathetic toward trying so I was left with my world collapsed and it died looking for comfort in knowing. I grew weary of misunderstanding why no one ever loved me so I collected my walls and fists like albums and started punching. The bruises were blue and discolored as if they paralleled with my soul on a pH scale from love to **** because people love to **** and people **** what they love (I guess that's why I still haven't killed myself). And my soul was discontented with being compared so it faded black with a set of sedatives to make it numb. I got addicted, and they made me realize how wrong I was. They made me see you more clearly. I didn't believe in love because I didn't understand it or how it worked or how it had anything to do with those two little doves. I had never seen any proof and I had never seen the good. It was all natural with you, and my desire was yours too, and by the time I almost felt my heart beating again, my hope tried running through my veins but they were too withered and I was forced to go numb again.

I am stitched together with threads of regret. I constantly think about my compunctious what-might-have-beens. I want to forget everything so I put it on an old cassette, but it still continuously plays on repeat in my head. It scratches and scratches until I can't handle the pressure. I burst and each nerve in my body forms a million ruptures. Every one around me becomes overwhelmed and my good intentions are shattered. They enter a new realm. It's dark just like my soul, and it's lonely just like my sad heart. I'm alone here; my only company is this tempting blade I use to make all kinds of art. Maybe if I write something down, I'll feel less in a haze. I pick up the blade and start to write stories on each arm hoping that someday I might belong. For my wrists, I write about every night I spent in your car with the music turned up too loud for my thoughts and for my forearms, I write about every joke we ever shared that means nothing to you now. For my palm, I write lines of song lyrics that you told me to listen to because you thought they would help me get out but now they keep me in a pool that's not deep enough for me to drown. I'm stuck in this mental state and I'm choking on all the pills my doctor prescribed me. I want to get out permanently so I write some more on paper and begin overdosing.

I held the moon with my clenched hands. My skin stretched so tight, just trying to cover all the craters. I expand, expand, expand. I expanded so far, I finally exploded, exploded, exploded. I was trying to protect you but I damaged you even more into a molded piece of rock that went through years of erosion, erosion, erosion. You eroded into a piece of nothing: a selfish ******* that left me cynical that you would ever become something important. Something, something, something, I repeat as I think of anything that might glue you back to your roots of red, white and blue. Blue when you were sad, red when your wrists got sore, white when you were laying on the floor waiting to be dead, dead, dead. Barely breathing, the only thing that was keeping you alive was the way you thrive on other peoples' death, death, death. That's all you think about. You think it out loud. You wonder how many people you can **** with bombs that hiss out your mouth. You destroy their will, will, will. When will you finally see that during your unholy matrimony with sin, you murdered yourself? Everything inside you was trying to get out, you ****** the demons in and got too overwhelmed. Now you're just several meteors looking for a new earth to overwhelm, overwhelm, overwhelm.

She made art on her arms.
All of her most detailed memories were written in lines of scars.
Slices of melancholy flowed like rivers on her wrists.
The poetry of it all meant that she was too flawed to forget.
She dreads her constantly bruised fists.
How damaged can she get?
She's already ruined all of her relationships.
She sits at home only to find the company of netflix.
It's so lonely so she finds herself on twitter, only to find that her best friend has been ignoring her.
She hates how she can be so possessive.
It flows out from her sea of anger.
The absence of peace and tranquility gives her so much anxiety.
That's why she stops eating.
Her parents don't know it, but she didn't skip dinner just because she was loaded up with homework.
She sits in her room and repeats the process of what happens when her anger starts to control her.
It ******* ***** to be irascible.
Someone send her to a mental hospital.
Maybe then her existence will be somewhat irrefutable.

I am the ocean; you are the moon.
You inflict my tidal waves of emotion.
You like to cause my doom.
You're so far away, and I'm not sure how we have any relation.
You give me too much room.
I will always stay, but you keep running away.
You're always here in the darkest hour, but even then, you keep your distance safe.
There are a lot of craters where things have tried to get in, but you're still desperate to cling on to your isolation.
That's more than what most people can bare.
People want to explore you and understand you better but you've made yourself into your own nation.
You are its only population.
You won't let anyone in.
You still toy with the thought of me and think of me as a possession.
I fight for freedom but you won't let me go because you're too addicted to the sin.
You crave the control.
You know I'm so emotional, and the pain you inflict on me makes you smile.
You won't let me in and you won't let me go so it's back and forth with my confusion and watered down soul.
There are so many things thriving inside of me, but without you they can't survive.
I'm still so empty, but there's nowhere left for me to hide.  
You're bound to my entire world, and you hate it so much.
You just want to be on your own, so you punish me with your mood swings and gravitational love.

Internal conflicts
Ready to die
My heart aches
There's no where left to fly

I am a bird
With a broken wing
I am handicapped
By my own necessity

My tree has been cut down
They long for me to leave
No one wants me around
So they do their best to ignore me

I'm flying in circles
Just trying to get by
Hungry for attention
I'm dying to just get one bite

People feel sorry for me
So they'll throw me their crumbs
I'm not satisfied with their leftovers
It just makes me feel worse

They know if they don't do something
I won't be around anymore
They're ready for me to give up
So I give them what they want

I break my other wing
And slowly wait
To be set free
I can finally fly to a place where I am just free to be