I CAN'T WRITE ABOUT YOU
BECAUSE YOU HAVEN'T
BROKEN MY HEART YET
AND THE ONLY INK I USE
IS MY OWN BLOOD

You may have noticed, that words come less freely now.

That's because the pain has reached a level beyond them.

your lips spoke the words that have spent so long  slamming against my throat
and for that beautiful moment my whole world clicked
- only to collapse again once i woke up.

The sun set in my eyes
the day you left
and it hasn't risen since.

I watched as you go
Leaving footsteps on my path of woe
Whatever do you mean
By the "how are you's" that you spoke?

The cards of desperation are sent
And are now left in the dark inside me
Where ever you went
You were always there beside me.

Oh, what a silly poetry you made
Out of a thousand vows in this world
That should be said in the holiness of yours
You pick mine
My "I love you dearly, my dear."

Oh, what a silly boy you are
How could you ever said sorry to me?
You shouldn't, I insist.
At least we had our "we"
Before we had our "were".

It's my fault, it's truly is my fault.
To fall, for someone like you.
To die, for being beside your
Cold, dead, lifeless, beautiful soul.

I'm sorry..
I'm sorry..
*I'm sorry..

breathe.
because you know what you
do when someone ***** you
over? you calmly take your
heart out of their hands
and leave. you think maybe
you'll sew it back on to
your sleeve but not now, not
today. you put their things
in a box (their cds, their
shirts, their books, their
notes, the little things you
picked up on your dates)
and you put it on the
highest shelf in your
closet, because someday
you will want to remember
them, maybe. if you don't
want to remember them, you
give them the box, you
donate the box, you throw
the box in the river. and
you breathe. because you
deserve better. you deserve
someone who doesn't consider
you a fallback, a plan b.
you will be someone's plan.
you will be the only plan.
you will be my-god-what-
was-i-doing-before-you-
walked-around-that-
corner. remember that
you are enough.
breathe.

Under my skin
and my bones is a room
nobody visits
nor anyone see's

it's dark and it's cool
and it's mine and the rules
like the gaps in it's walls
are governed by me;

comfortably safe
by myself in this place,
a question persistently
troubles my sleep

has all the pretence
that's been it's defence
saved me or left me
buried too deep.