Life is scary. You know?

Not the kind of scary you get from horror movies or a haunted house.
Not the kind of scary like when you think you forgot your keys locked in the car.
Not the kind of scary like when you think one of your friends finally decided to leave this world for good.
Not the kind of scary that is sharp needle point followed by the release of realization.

No.
Life is not that kind of scary.

It's the kind of scary that follows you closely.
It's the kind of scary that shakes you awake at night just to let you stare back at its void.
It's the kind of scary that sits on your shoulder and taunts you for every waking second that it can take you when it pleases.
It's the kind of scary that pulls your blood from your arteries.
It's the kind of scary that revels in the sight of your tears.

It's the kind of scary that lingers, persists, torments, and never, ever leaves.

How loud did I have to scream to be seen?
As the dirt fills my lungs I forget what It feels like to breathe
I became a ghost searching for the light that never came.
Someone turn the lights out, I'm too tired to stay awake.

Never lose your way of life.
Never lose sight of the sun.

Promise me, you will find your way out of the dark.
Promise me, you will look at the sky and see it full of dreams.

I never want you vapid.
I need the hope in your eyes alive when you say goodbye.

Your life has always been so full of color.
Keep it that way.
Color over and in the black and white.

Light up the streets at night.
Erase the silence with the sound of your laugh.
Save the world with your hope.

Ride out the sun with your glory days.
Fly over trouble with your wise ways.

Fight the dark.
Live in the sun.
Dance with the rain.

You say you want romance
That you want it all painted out

You tell me you crave
Something beautiful
Vivid enough
For you to be able to stare
At it all day
And never lose interest

Well I'm not much of an artist
But I think I could be for you

I could draw in the features
Fill in the details
And color by number
Every single part of the picture
It might take me a while
But I've got time

My hands are unsteady
So forgive me if some lines
Are a bit uneven
I cannot promise you perfection
But I can try my best

I would take the steps to learn
How to capture passion
On a simple piece of paper
I would train myself in the talent
So that one day I could create
With a level of skill
Superior to others

See I am not much of an artist
But for you I would be
So I could paint the romance
That you want so badly

I am not much of an artist
But for you I would be
So I could paint you that image,
The one you've always wanted
And put both of us in it.

We

   were

           all

              born

                      to

                          die.

What hurts more,
The times where the pieces placed themselves
Or
The times where the pieces were nowhere to be found  
?

We are critical.

We find flaws in
everything we see
because nobody
wants to write
about perfection,
even though sometimes
we wish we could just stay
staring into that
unblemished surface.

2. We are never satisfied.

We live our lives upon
mountains of
scrunched up
bits of refill and
ideas we gave up
trying to
express.

3. We never forget.

We write words about
eye contact made
three months ago
that we replay over
and over in our minds
even though it
stopped
being relevant.

4. We are fickle.**

Our emotions flash
from one
to the other
like strobe lighting that
disorientates us
until we feel as if
the world
will never be still.

5. We are exposed.

We don't know how
to keep our feelings
to ourselves so
we'll write them
down for
you to find
'accidentally'.

6. We are vulnerable.

We wear our
hearts on our sleeves
and won't lift a
muscle to fight back
if somebody tries
to break it
because we thrive
from the pain.

7. We will never stop.

We will never stop
feeling and
we will never stop
hurting,
we will never stop
breaking and
bleeding and
loving
even though the cycle
is endless
and we know what's
coming next.


We are addicted
to agony,
but we agonise
for the art.

Sometimes words just can't say what you feel
And the most beautiful poetry is

the tears sliding down your cheeks

the memory of being too small to understand anything but a smile

holding someone's hand for the first time

the pain no one can really put into words, when you lose the most important person in the world

The daydreams and nightdreams and everything else inbetween

And knowing you are loved

i hope i left a gap in your life
the way losing a tooth leaves a hole in your mouth
and you keep running your tounge over
where it used to be