Her hopes were like bubbles
Prancing around
Right before her eyes
Optimistically floating
Into her hands.
But just as she tried to grab onto them
pop
They burst into the reality she lived in
And was left alone
With nothing
But the residue
Of the hope she once had

She's bright as the stars,
When others are around
But dark as the night
When she's alone with her mind.
She's all smiles to the crowd
But empty inside
where no one can reach.
One day she'll be able to stop all the lies & be herself
But until then, she'll continue her double life,
Full of secrets & make believe.
Never knowing whether she's upset or content or somewhere in between

I have a fear.
It’s something called “philophobia”,
The fear of falling in love.
Some may say that love is a blissful experience,
But I know better.
I see the people surrounding me,
All that fell in love one way or another.
My mother, who fell for a cheater.
My sister, who fell for a lowlife.
My best friend, who fell for the one that could never reciprocate.
I see them hurt and fragile,
Love doing them no good.
They’re on an emotional roller coaster,
Going high and low,
But never coming to a stop.
I fear of ending up like them,
Weak at my emotion’s hands.
So I keep my heart guarded,
For love is something I do not welcome as freely as others..

People can surprise you
They feed lies disguised as truths
And claim to be someone they're not.
You get comfortable with this character they portray
And the minute you let your guard down
It's all over.
They slither into your mind
Into your heart
And proceed to hurt you in ways unimaginable.
People can shock you.
All the empty promises
And traits they act out are decoys
That lead to you being left
Shattered
Stunned
Broken.

Look in the mirror and say what you see,
A broken down girl staring right back at me.
I can’t seem to recognize her, her eyes so empty,
Her hair looks cropped, and not so lengthy.
She looks too skinny in her muscle shirt and *******,
Her whole appearance making me feel uncanny.
Who is this girl? Why is she so sad?
She’s looking slightly familiar and in a state so bad.
I examine her more closely and realize something I cannot stand,
The girl in the mirror is really me with a razor in hand.

I don't like wasting my tears over you,
Nor are you worth any of this ink.
But these feelings are overpowering,
And it's getting harder to think.
I thought you really cared for me,
But I guess you're full of lies.
I realize now that you don't deserve me,
And it's time to say goodbye.

She watches the sun set from the steps outside her house,
Never letting her sight linger away from the gorgeous star.
The sky transforms from a solid blue to a dome of pink and orange,
Meshing together to make the greatest view only few will ever notice.
For a moment, all is well.
Her endlessly thinking mind is silenced by the grace of dusk,
The sadness is gone from her eyes,
But instead bliss and amazement are engraved in her deep brown orbs.
Her hatred for the world is replaced by admiration,
And everything around her disappears for once.
It’s just her and the sun,
Both uniting as one,
And exiting the city for a while.
Nothing could be more perfect,
For it was just what she needed.

I glare at the poorly drawn insect on my wrist,
Wanting nothing more than to **** it,
With a razor blade and the blood it could bring.
I want to cut it in half,
Watch it bathe in my wrath,
And feel that familiar sting.
But I stop myself short,
A deep inhale and I abort,
Put the razor blade down.
I walk away as I frown,
Watching the butterfly I’ve kept at bay,
“Apparently this bug is to live another day.”

The way I know how much you meant to me,
Is the way that every little thing reminds me of you.
The streets we walked, the places we visited, the tunes we sang, the topics we discussed.
You literally took up so much space in my life,
That I find it so hard to know where to head,
now that you're gone

I am not here
I'm not listening to my teacher's daily rants on archetypes
I'm not smiling at my companion's little jokes
I am simply not here
My body is sitting on this chair
My hand is writing across this paper
My feet are planted on this wooden floor
And yet
I am
Not
Here
My ears hear voices
My eyes see faces
But my mind cannot fathom any of it
Is it me?
Am I at fault here for this crippling emptiness?
Or are you to blame?
Are you the reason why I can't feel anymore?
In the end it doesn't matter
Because I am not here
What matters is that I find my way back to my body
Before it is too late
Before my mind finds a body that is no longer breathing

I dislike what you've become
but what is done is done.
I can sit here & reminisce about the person I met and fell for
a few years back
but standing in front of me at this very moment,
the skin and bones you,
is a completely different being
and there's nothing I can do.

I was a wilting flower you had found in the middle of a yard full of weeds
and instead of cherishing & nursing me back to health
you pulled at my delicate petals
trying to figure out
whether she loved you
or if she loved you not