The contradiction
Inside your mind
Cannot form a sentence
From these tangled words.
You make up an idea
But then tear it apart
Where does it all start?
It is a conflict
Between you and your mind,
Now in daylight you struggle
To reache the core
Of the sweet compromise
And the peace of mind.

Mom:
You have a pureness to your beauty that you'll never accept,
but I wish you did, you deserve to embrace it.
I  wish that you could see your own potential, and flaunt the beauty you have.

You're the epitome of good, any cruelness you spew comes from your own insecurities, and I know there are quite a few.

You've put yourself on the back burner far to much, and while it's appreciated beyond recognition, learn to love yourself as much as you love the people around you.
You're selflessness is amazing, but you matter too, please remember.

The overflow of emotions that consume me when I think of the love and respect I have for you floods my soul with a beautiful warmth.
Without you I would crumble, you've raised and guided me better then any error-less mother I could ever fabricate.

Nobody could have instilled in me better morals or values than what you have. Nobody was born to have children like you were.
So, I thank you, endlessly and profoundly, for being yourself.

Ever wonder my dear, why my tears fall down ?
it is because your words created gravity,
a field that pulls me down,
now I am forever bound by its laws,
in this creation I will wait,
the curtains draped like a shroud,
would that the faint glow of a sunlit morn be my release,
raising the corners of my mouth into a smile,
not this day, or the next, for everything is pulled down,
endlessly down by the gravity of your words.

Walk without a sound
Though you carry a heavy burden
Speak in a whisper
So as not to disturb the garden
Decide with purpose
Though you may be uncertain
Open your heart
No life should suffer a curtain

Sometimes I wonder if you like me or if-
You just like the idea. The concept.
Seeing me is like seeing yourself, looking in a mirror.
How do I know that you love me, and not the concept.
You’re projecting.
It’s all conceptual.

If imperfect people create perfect love, then what are we?
If imperfections make you beautiful, did I become grotesque?

If the concept is more alluring than the truth, then is it a lie?
If the concept is better than me, then maybe I’ll never be your lover.

I guess you could say I've been okay lately
But I've been sleeping all the time just to escape myself
And I've started hating all of the people I love

it's about learning that love doesn't come with an address
rather, a skeleton you hung in the subconscious element of your closet
i'm learning the grey area that resulted in the clash of our existences is something i don't fundamentally need
three days ago i realized its something i don't want
hey i'm still writing to you as if it were my career and i'm learning that
with you, i never had to taste the metallic tone of closure
i just, left. you didn't know
my last "i love you" would be the last and
instead of writing you novels and sobbing in between
every page, i stomped my feelings into bottles and lately i've been busy imagining the emotion that comes along with splitting a fine wine thats festered in my gut for quite some time
maybe i'll share it with my mirror,
sleeping on the floor is becoming much too frequent as is getting drunk off of emotion, only to
wish you were here