You my darling are gorgeous, and not just in the way you smile, even the darkest parts of your mind shimmer as if the scars on your heart demand a graceful reputation.

I spend hours writing some night in hopes to calm myself
but sometimes the words scratched along the paper aren't enough
I still find it hard to not think about death some days
I still think about my red inked silver pen
And i still wonder if happiness even exists or if it is just the god like coping mechanism we use to convince ourselves that we are okay

Why do I still write about the pain of the blade when it hasn't kissed my hips for months
Why do I still write about you when you have not kissed my lips for even longer

Today my best friend, the same girl that laughed until she cried at my corny jokes just one year ago, mesaged me and said its getting bad fast and that all she wants to do is die..I cried reading her message because i knew that the girl i once knew was already gone

I don't miss her I just miss the idea of her, I miss being able to call her mine. Being proud of her, showing off how beautiful my girl was...I was like a boy showing off his new convertible to his jealous friends. She was mine and I was hers, but now we both belong to a different fate other than being together

My heart is never valid in the presence of panic
yet I will still take a pen and drag it along paper
as if it were a stamp of my own approval
I will stay up late trying to make my screams sound like poetry
tuning every octave of my pain into a rhyme

Can I be your cigarette?
so you can pull me out of a dark box
so you can light me up when I'm cold
so you can keep me on your lips
so you can inhale me even though you know how toxic I am
but you don't really care because you love that feeling in your lungs

I feel guilty for getting better while you are getting worse
I feel guilty that my scars are fading while yours continue to bleed
I feel guilty that I can turn off my thoughts while yours still keep you up at night
I feel guilty that I cannot help you like you have helped me

You deserve a girl who isn't broken
who isn't depressed
who isn't anxious
who doesn't slice her own skin to release her demons
who doesn't smoke just for the self destruction
who loves herself
But yet you still whisper these sweet words to me and make it your goal that I realize there truth
my only question is...
...why me?