Cup your hands together
and catch each
and every one
of my fragmented words.
Hold them
and piece them together
into beautiful paragraphs
because I've become
so broken
and you deserve
to be whole.
So please don't fill my
empty soul
with pieces of you
and don't convince
me to allow you to stay.
Take this jagged goodbye
and remember me
as the hopeful person
I once was
not the futile soul
I've become.

After he died, I spent two and a half years in my bed. The doctors said I was depressed. I think I was just tired.
I rose out of that coffin of satin sheets with a lot of coffee and some diet pills. I didn't climb back in for six months. The doctors said I was an insomniac. I think I was just pensive.
I eventually fell back in with too much Lunesta and some cough syrup. I finally started having dreams again but I couldn't decievere them from my reality. The doctors said I had severe anxiety. I think I just had a good imagination.
I cut until my bones ached. They called me suicidal but I think I was just bored.
I drank until my insides began to drown. They called me an alcoholic but I think I was just thirsty.
I stopped eating until my ribs stuck out. They called me anorexic but I think I was just lazy.
I said I ******* loved you. I said I'd always miss you. I said I really needed you. You thought I was just messed up & confused. But I think I saw you holding the rope that could pull me out of rock bottom.

Well heyyyy, what I think
never really matters anyway.