How do I begin to explain that I cry when I hear your name if I never want you to feel sorry?
How do I speak of the horrible things I wish had been done to me back when I was at my worst?
I can remember choking on sobs and bleeding on all my pretty white clothes
But I can never remember the way it feels to be loved.
Maybe I never really was loved, though it seemed that way he left and only memories remain.
And I don't miss him but I ******* miss the warmth and comfort he provided when I was at my breaking point.
I don't know how to not feel guilty about wanting to die and maybe it's a good thing because maybe it'll keep me alive
But I cry myself to sleep some nights and I can't remember a time when I felt alright.
And though I feel numb I'll bite my tongue because I don't want you to feel bad,
You can't control your emotions and it's not your fault that I can't remember being anything but sad.

It's nobody's fault.

Everyday, I wake,
Powder my face
To hide who I am,
Cover my disgrace
I line my eyes with black,
As a symbol of discontent
And the fact that I mourn,
For things not meant
Blush, on my cheeks,
Adding colour, my soul lacks
Make myself a lie,
Front and back
Put on pretty clothes,
To better fit in
So people don't see me,
Then know of my sins
Every day,
With the same routine
Living my lie,
Not seeing what I've seen
Everyone else,
Seeming just fine
Able to leave,
The past behind
Not me,
I want to be like "The Drones"
Feeling nothing,
Just a bag of bones

A withered carcass entombed
within my being,
An essence of what has succumb
beneath those placid waters
as I'm departed.

Your hands linger,
but are never grasped upon.

I'm obscured from all, and breaches
                whisper words in silence...

I look back at those words and wonder if they meant anything, and convince myself they weren't ever written for me anyway.
It's not very hard to do that anyway because of the words later spoken that overshadow and contradict the previous ones.
I have always been in denial, despite the opinions of others, that they were ever there for me.
But after accepting that it's a possibilty, I wonder even more so how you could say such lovely things, then turn around and **** me.

I hope you can write that sweetly again one day and mean it.

Like a summer snowstorm,
as impossible and unpredictable
Like the soft footstep on a creaky stair,
as hollow and as worn
Like a pebble in the middle of the sand,
as foreign and unwanted
Like warm breath on an icy day,
as frozen and unyielding
Like a beating heart without a body,
as unlikely and unliving
Like a memory I have forgotten,
as treasured and as rotten

we are our own Gods, all broken-rib Adam and apple flavored sin

You belittled and misconstrued
The love that I carried, the love that was true
But it could never be enough for someone always craving new
Hell bent on destruction, both for me and for you.

So I walk with strength today, your sins now my message
I carried them into the light, rescued them from the darkness that was ours
You dare to raise your fists because I sold your transgressions
Who the **** do you think you are?

yeah maybe sometimes i think about you and your skin and your eyelashes and yeah maybe sometimes i trace the shape of your curls in the air with my fingers when i cant sleep and yeah i guess i still think of your name when people ask me about my poetry and sure you could say its a possibility that i only buy candles that smell like you now and i take scalding hot baths to replicate the feeling of your fingertips on my back and

As with the pursuit of happiness
I'm lost in the pursuit of truth and
it's all so idealistic.
Credited too much
yet not enough.
I dream of the chase
and the horrors of consummation.
Once elusive
now captured
lost of its glamour
turned false with time
easy and boring
like so many others
just another half-truth.
I am certain
and I am unsatisfied.
No love lost in possession
but found in the quest
of all these uncertainties.
You turn all my answers
into questions.
I don't consider myself
competent enough to judge you.