I used to be scared of what hid under my bedsheets,
hid in the shadows of my closet.
I've come to find that I am what is hiding under the sheets.
(hiding from what?)
I am the shadows in my closet.

Yes, I write about sad because I am sad.
I AM SO ******* SAD.
STOP telling me HOW TO FEEL,
HOW TO ACT,
WHAT TO SAY,
AND HOW TO SEE THE WORLD.
I'm caught behind my silence because I don't know how to tell you
everyone is screaming at me
and they just won't stop
and I can't seem to differentiate between your crying and my own.
All I can see is broken glass.
I hit the wall so many ******* times
holding a bottle,
holding a ****,
holding a heart.
There's shattered glass everywhere.
No wonder my feet are bleeding.

"Your voice is so quiet."
"Speak up, please."
I'm screaming your name and you won't turn the **** around.
Was it something I said?
Or didn't say.

Do we want to hid in closets
or under piles of blankets
because that's the only place I feel warmth anymore.
That's the only place I feel *safe

When nothing goes right,
Do not go left,
For it is when you persevere,
And face the obstacles,
When you become strongest.

Never be afraid to make me laugh
Even if over time I ask you to stop
And I tell you you’re making me look older
Just brush that off.
I really do love the wrinkles that you’ve put around my mouth
And when I look at them I see tiny quotation marks
That remind me of all the things I have to say
And that all of those things I say are important enough
For you to quote me on
And as more time passes and those tiny wrinkled quotation marks
Get bigger and bigger and start to blend together around my lips
They’ll look more like parenthesizes
And I’ll really, really love those too
Because they’ll remind me that when I used to have to say, “I love you”
I’ll know that I love you is always implied.

pick up the pieces of your heart

retrieve some glue and duct tape

because it's time to get to work

and it's time to stop sulking

you are the only person who can

pull yourself and keep yourself up

repair your heart, repair yourself

until your heartbeat isn't irregular

and breathing becomes easy again

you can make it, you will make it

believe that things will be better

and eventually they will be

if you never stop believing

Love is not what people make it out to be:
Love isn't a boy looking into your eyes and seeing nothing but galaxies full of undiscovered potential that he would do anything to explore.
Love isn't a girl kissing you on the cheek at 3 am because you woke up cold but she had all the covers and you didn't even bother to take them back from her.
Love isn't two people sitting on the roof in the middle of the night smoking cigarettes while staring at the stars and wishing that they were frozen in that moment forever.
Love is the blood that pours from your wrists when you realize all those moments have to end.

I hear your voice carried upon the whispering winds. Surrounding me with secrets untold.
I see your face in the stars at night. Your eyes glittering down at me just before I drift off.
I feel your touch in the chill morning air,
And your smell in the morning dew that accompanies it.
The strawberries taste of you, their familiar sensation tingling my tongue.
Funny, how I sense you everywhere and yet
Not at all.

time after time

we stood hand in hand

saying forever, saying nice things

maybe we meant them at the time

but time unravels all

and as time went on

those nice things we used to say

seemed like mirages in the distance

while i became monstrous  

and you became distant

we met fire with fire

but only i got burned in the end