If only they knew what I could do.
What I was worth.
Would they come running in droves, or would they cower in fear, as if unworthy?
I'm not after the party flake, nor the wholesale take.
I'm after the ones who don't exist.

something i noticed about myself
is that, for as long as i can remember,
i've always slept on only one side of my bed

i can't help but wonder - maybe it's my subconscious,
leaving room for all the lovers i dream up in my head -
awaiting a second body to occupy the extra space beside me

i sleep on my side, too. often times resembling the shape of a crescent moon.
arms outstretched, reaching to touch imaginary stars, like my nonexistent lover.

and so as the moon, cold, always longing for the safety and cover of the clouds,
the same way i long for holding arms - but instead, alone, in the vastness of the sky.

if you take time to think about it -
water has many different personalities.
it will burn you, unapologetically, if it's boiled
but it can be so cold that it chills you to the bone.
water can flow freely, or be stagnant.
water can be clear, completely transparent -
or clouded & dark, all depending on where you find it.
water is life-giving; it will save you if you're dying of thirst,
but it can also be a poison - if not properly treated, before taking a drink.
it's powerful enough to destroy entire cities,
but gentle enough to bring life to flowers.
water can hold up a ship- but it will still slip through your fingers.

(water - was the color of your eyes,
  and ever since the day you left -
it's all that seems to come from mine.)

I'm used to this feeling,
the loneliness.

Asking me why, I'm lonely.
he's not here to hold me,
in this lonely place.

When this feeling comes,
The razor comes out.
my wrists bleed.

I end up crying,
hoping I won't awake,
from this, my dream.
Dying in the inside.