I'm afraid of falling
To deep for you.
I'm scared of how
This might end.
I'm afraid I might have never
Really loved you.
I'm scared that I
Might not be able to control myself
Around you.
I'm afraid I might not
Be real.
I'm scared that you
Might not be either.
I'm afraid that my
Nightmares might
Come true.
I'm scared that you might
Want them to come true.
I'm afraid we might not
Be friends anymore.
I'm also scared that
You don't want me in anyway
Anymore.
Not just 'girlfriend' wise (which would never happen anyway but I keep my hopes up)
But in a friend way.
Even an acquaintance way.
That we might just forget each other and
Not remember everything we've been through.

I can't lose you.

Oh Doctor,
You have been so kind.
I'll be going back to you soon
For you to check up on me
again.
I'm not complaining,
Because he makes me laugh oh so much.
He's great.
I giggle and laugh as he
Hits my knee with that thingy and
Does his regular routine check.
He started tearing up as I
Told him about my thoughts
And he understood and
Even listened.
I told him how sad I've been
And how empty I am.
How much I
Want to not be here anymore.
How I've even cut
Because of everything.
But then he grabbed my hand
Told me everything was going to be better
And asked, "do you have a plan?"
I smiled, said no.
Because it's true,
I don't.
I wanted to but
I didn't and that's how he knew.
That's how he knew that
Maybe I'm not fully
Afraid of living.

It's kind of funny.
I see all these girls,
Beautiful girls,
Perfect hair,
Perfect body,
Perfect skin,
Talk of pain.
Write of pain.
Cry of pain.

But what of pain
Do they really know?
Don't love me,
They say,
I am broken-
I am insignificant-
I have walls-
And every man
Falls into their hand
Like they planned,
I suppose.

It angers me,
You see, for

I am lacking
Perfect hair,
A perfect body,
And perfect skin.
I talk of pain.
I write of pain.
I cry of pain but,

I am alone.

and we are a broken generation,
I explain,
where the scars that mar our heart,
match the scars that mar our skin,
and we cut away at feelings,
feelings that make us unsatisfied,
with who we are,

and im raising up orphans,
when the home I know becomes an collection of strangers .

and I'm giving them water
but there is poison in this well.
and they are set on this desire to carve out more,
more time.
more space.
more love.
more energy.
more. more.more.

I'm taking a melon scraper to my insides,
trying to rid myself of baggage getting in the way of what you want,
and what I want for you.

I'd give anything to be
Eighteen right now.
To be
Free to
Do as I please.
To travel,
Not only the world but
The secrets within you.
To be able to
Run my fingers through your
Chest hair.
To be able to
Scream your name countless times.
To be able to
Know you in every possible way.

Why is it that I
Always fall for the older guys and
They do the same too?

Seeing those bands last night
Reminded me of
All the sweet things to
Live for.
Like all the sweet times I would've missed:
Cuddling with you
Failing at tickling you
Playing with your hair
Making you smile,
Laugh,
Cry.
Seeing you grow up
And traveling.
I wouldn't have the chance to
Maybe one day
Share a beautiful
Life with you
If I was dead.

I'm glad I
Didn't go through with
All the things that
I was thinking of.
I like seeing you
Living,
Breathing
And knowing that I
Mean something to you.

A pen is blue, black, red, green
It is your life written out
And unwritten
Words that you would
never say.
Things that you will
never do.
A pen is full of good things
and bad things
All compressed in ink
A pen is full of unfinished thoughts
and unwritten stories.
This pen will write my story.