I can't really put together my inhabitable thoughts anymore. Everything about you is still left wide open just like the door you tore apart.
I look for you now in everyone I meet.
Searching for a small sign that you are still in my everyday life. That your smile isn't wiped off the face of the earth and you coffee eyes were still within someone else who shared the same taste of music as you. Your hands reminded me of maps which lead me to where I wanted to stay for the rest of my life. Every exhale that came out of you guided me like a lost sail boat and hushed me up to shore. I loved listening to the sound of your voice telling me to sleep, yet reminding me that our time was limited and that I didn't have all the time I needed to have with you.
Absolutely no one can compare to how your coffee stains left on old written notes were like my gold stars. I felt at home in your arms and you were at peace in my head. I want that back. I want you back.

Why don't you tell them why you changed the locks to your new home? Explain to them why the old ones just weren't good enough and make sure you remind them of what can happen in the event of a break in. Like what the hell is the point in changing the batteries in the dying smoke alarm when this house has been under flames for years?

Do they ever ask you what happened to him and why he doesn't come around as often as he did before? Just start going into detail on how he used to kiss the blunt more often than he kissed you. Remind yourself the time you drove all night wishing he thought about you for just a fraction of how often you think about him.

Why are you so tired all the time? Is it because with each minute you sleep, another moment is wasted without him? Or does he run through your dreams looking for you? Looking through you, because beyond is someone heart shattering and beautiful.

Doesn't it bother you when you're stranded out in the ocean just to see if someone with a boat will see you better than a lighthouse? Your radiance will be stranger than some spinning light at the top of your head.

What happened the night they found your car without you in it? Just because your mind races faster than your car does not mean your legs can. Did the cold remind you how much you missed the warming sound of your beating heart? Or was it the pouring rain that reminded you how much you missed his dry humor?

good lighting made me look curvier
like shadows i felt each edge of my body hide away from boys that like to see the soft side i didn't think i had. my small A cup ***** looked like a solid C if you made the light dim enough to an angle just perfect enough to create an illusion. confusion as to why you undressed me i turned out to be such a disappointment.

a hefty price tag made me more valuable
if as if patterned cloths weren't enough. now my fingers turn as green as the cash i blew from these rings that won't come off or the necklace suffocating my desperate screams for beauty and acceptance in a world so based off eyes, then personality.

longer hair made me more easier to hold on to
for each and every boy that has pulled it this way and that just to get me in the right light or mood. as a mouth piece with no voice or a head with no brain or a soul with no emotion; i was an easy void. and as that void i filled it with dying futures.

every night screaming to be eye candy for those who could care less of what my favorite color was or my last name. comparing myself to other perfectionist out there that must have mastered it all from day one. mixing potions to stay thick, but thin at the same time. or were born into a solid gold Chanel dress with platinum trimmings and high stilettos. so high that everyone else in the room stretches there neck just to be blessed by beauty.  i've always thought about what it might be like to be seen as eye candy. for one night walk out and make heterosexual females question their sexuality and men be somewhat intimated by how i 'got it all'. but no. i sit in my room contemplating on using the eye shadow to blind me forever from staring at an image of what i am. *not good enough.

i think at this point in my life I much rather be waking up in a morgue than my own bed.
the morgue holds multiple inviting people. No none smiling, but they're just all dying.
walking around trying to live their existence to the full extent just so when they do die other's can say they lived well.
if as if that lying in bed all day is just practice for the inevitable truth that one day you won't be waking up in your own bed, but a morgue.
just like everyone else.

I don't want to hear it. I wish I could just slice my ears off with the chilling words you spoke to me from across the four foot table in the coffee shop that day.
I don't want to see it. You're repetitive posts of how you hate the idea of giving your all for someone who doesn't give anything back.
I don't want to feel it. The guilt brought down on me like a brick wall slamming against my fading heart.
I don't want to taste it. Your cigarette stained lips touch mine in the middle of a drunken night.
I don't want to smell it. The burning fumes of our so called relationship going down in a rolled up blunt.


You didn't want to hear it. From news from our mutual friends saying that I have moved on to someone new.
You didn't want to see it. The fact that I constantly gave it my all through the past five months we shared.
You didn't want to feel it. Loneliness brought onto you by passing and going promises to hang out and worthless ***.
You didn't want to taste it. The unsatisfying flavor of depression take over your mouth making it dry with desperation.
You didn't want to smell it. The shower of perfume that once infiltrated your car and stayed there for nights on end.


*I gave you all I could. And maybe I am heartless for moving on so quickly, but for you to attempt to make me feel bad for it is wrong. For all those endless nights of waiting for your call is now over and you can now sleep peacefully knowing if you ever need to write my eulogy you have plenty to say

I want to experience what it feels like to wholeheartedly love who I've become. To realize that one day the only person I need to keep sane is myself. Independence isn't about doing things on your own as compared to realizing what can be accomplished by yourself. If as if you are surprising and surpassing your own high expectations. And if what they say is true, that we ourselves are our own worst critics, then so be it. But when I wake up in the morning I want to feel proud that I  made it through an eventful dream, unlike the nightmares that still scare me even when I'm awake. Or the gloom that hangs over my mirror every morning while I cake on powders and gloops of color toning make up in order to be suitably eye catching. My push up bras don't even push up my lack of chest fat but in turn let my self confidence sag. I'm not always short enough for the boy I like to be a picture perfect couple. Nor am I tall enough to enjoy how the skyline kisses the horizon. My **** doesn't sway the way my steps take me further and further down judgmental halls with eyes that can shatter someone's assurance of themselves. My skin isn't naturally glowing due to the dull lighting guiding me way through this dim settled life I have set up for myself. The natural hair on top of my head isn't constantly in place; and alike the baby hairs, I myself am flowing wildly by which ever the wind blows. And I wish I can say I will someday appreciate the small things that I believe are physically wrong with me. Like the way my freckles become more noticeable in the summer. Or how my hair becomes darker in the winter. Or how my birthmark on my leg reminds me of South Carolina. Or how my fingers are allowed to touch everything beautiful.
*That's the way I want to be. That's the way I will be.

Because your mind is bigger than the milky way. As it stretches and bends between universes all i can think about is how your eyes burn holes into my absence. You sheets cannot even compare to how ***** your intentions are with each and every outstanding other walking the same plain as you. If as if your field branches while setting fire to innocent people with sins as cold as black. Yet at one point i thought i connected your stars. I thought the planets were completely aligned for only me. I thought all the galaxies just matched up perfectly together in such harmony that the gods would be jealous of it's perfection. But i quickly realized you my existence is nothing compared to this entire space

The last sip of coffee was cold. But it's the only thing you seemed to save me. Last of the bottom of the coffee bag you left. The bittersweet taste is something I don't want to forget. Every morning I would try to finish the coffee you left me before going out for your run. You loved running. Even if it was already humid and sticky at eight in the morning you would go out for you two mile run and come back to me at the kitchen table sipping on the last of that warm coffee.

Yet now. That coffee is cold. And gone. Just like you. And you have no idea how much I wish I could reverse that last sip of cold coffee. That last moment, or memory, or you. Because in reality. That coffee was once hot. Just like how you were once alive and saving that coffee.

I no longer drink coffee. Too bittersweet; drowned out by salty tears holding memories of you.

Sometimes I feel like there actually is a place for me in this world
And other days I feel like that place is six feet underground

No one tells you about how lonely it is up here
Supposedly, if everyone is different, doesn't that mean everyone is alone
We all just live in the same space together knowing that we all have different interests and hobbies
And if none of us have the same thumbprint then that means in order for us to understand one and other we would have to touch every single other soul; just because we are all just so different
But in order to that we would have to open up and trust
Have the same sense of serenity when we lean on each others shoulder so that when I am ready to let you in my temple you do not ruin it
Do not vandalize the temple I have studied, meditated, and even felt love in
The sacred spirit I have carried with me has done nothing wrong to you
So why would you want to damage it

Its 10 p.m. my time which means it's 11 p.m. yours and I'm sure you're tangled in each other’s mess. And Let me guess, you miss me. Darling don’t miss me. Cause I know in a few years from now you won’t remember my eyes you said you want to stare into. My smile you like so much. My face you want to kiss. My lips you desire to feel. Nothing last forever and me of all people should have carved that into my skull. Carved it behind my own two eyes so when I close them all I can focus on are those three words. Nothing lasts forever. You might someday think so, saying your vows and promising forever, but nothing is. And if you think it's forever till death then that's not the forever that's on my mind. No, the forever on my mind is the forever that never dies. Cause love never dies. Being mortal though, we do die. We do wither into old ages and still believe in the love that is given. Or the love that is deserved. Love is eternal though, and although we are not eternal, we are not forever, we have the sense that love is. So what's that say about us. It says that our thoughts and ideas of love are not what is written in the dictionary so long ago. It's what we believe in our hearts. And that my friends- Is not something I can define for you. It doesn't have boundaries so how can you define something so wild? How can you take a four lettered word and make many other words fit together to describe what we have. You can't. And if one day you find the definition of love let me know. Cause I want to see them too. Yes. Them. Not it. Them is the word used related to people. It is the word used to relate things. Items. And your definition of love will fit every word that you cannot say. Cannot describe. And when you feel love it will feel inviting. And trust me when you smell love it will bring back sensations that haven't been there since your first encounter on the playground. Cause all the best memories happen there. In the complete and utter bliss you can hardly recall, because it was so long. Wish me well also that someday I experience everything you sense when you meet love. Although I hold less luck than you, kiss me goodnight and I'll KNOW that everything is alright.

You'll hear from a lot of people, that recover is a road. A road filled with robbers, stealing your happiness, your innocence, your life. Then there are all the mines. Blowing up small issues making them bigger than they really are and exploding right next to you just so you can fall face first on another. And it's endless. Those robbers are relentless and those bombs are everlasting. They don't stop for anyone on a simple whim. Yet at the same time it doesn't last forever. The road does end like everything else in life, but what comes after may not be what is expected either. You may even feel more alone knowing your journey of recovery is finally over. Knowing that you were strong enough to recover, but the feeling of loneliness leaves no man. Loneliness is cruel mistress with bring nothing but self-pity and makes nothing more, but pain. Although the pain usually isn't physically visible, there is pain. The only way you can ever see this pain if you look deep into the victims eyes and realize that they're fake smile is nothing, but suffocating their soul and slowly eating them alive.
Loneliness only sticks around if you let it though. For example. When you're out with friends and having fun. For maybe even a second you don't feel that same loneliness you did before. You feel a moment of bliss wrapped in the arms of hope. But there are certain times where you can be filled in a room of your own heroes and stars and friends. And realize how alone you really are. And then it hits you. Depression.
Depression seem to be such a trend in our society, but in reality it's real. Depression eats you away with such force you feel useless. You begin to feel like you're whole being is drained. All those activities you used to love have no meaning. And all those friends you had just don't seem the same like they were before. Being depressed is more than just feeling useless though. That would be too easy. Depression can lead to an even bigger demon that is only awakened by yourself. It's like you're fighting yourself. A stronger, darker, more hurtful demon called Suicidal.
Suicidal is an evil soul who not only drains you of all activities you used to enjoy, but also fills your mind with even poisonous thoughts. Thoughts that give you no hope for a future or today. The moment you're living in right now means nothing to you, because suicidal ideas have filled with and voided them of hope. Suicidal thoughts give off these ideas that no one needs you around. Or no one wants you around and that the only way to stop these screaming voices to take your own life. The only way to quiet the demons are to steal your memories, friends, loved ones, everything. And flush it down the drain so that everything you have been through previously were almost pointless.
The end though. Back to the end. If you ever manage to defeat all the demons that learned to bring you down then you are truly a warrior. A tiger who earned their stripes. An inspiration. Let the cycle may always start again. So for all of you. The ones in the cycle. The ones just getting out. The ones who give into the cycle. The ones who have been clean forever resisting the vicious cycle. Or even the ones who have no idea where the hell you are into this mix. Know that I love you that you're here. I know you're here, because who else would be reading this. Exactly. I love you no matter who you are and no matter what you have or are doing right now. You're simply a beautiful human trying to make it in this atmosphere.