I walk toward the door
Lights getting brighter by the second

'i was hoping youd stay'

I
Hesitate.

only for a moment.

and then i am gone.

when i think about that day, i wish i had stayed
closer
to
you.

i wish i had hugged you tighter...

i wish i had said more than 'goodbye'


i wish



we





hadnt



grown














distant.

-Liam

"I love you"

I love you more

"I miss you"

I miss you too

"We need to talk"

What did I do?

"It's me, not you"

Is it really?

*no response

I wanna hear you say it
Don't want to need to rephrase

You love to feel this way
So you scream, could it be?

You give it all away
Admission free, could it be?

I can hear but I cannot see

Crybaby

I want you to write it down
It's not you, it's me, why I keep coming around

I can hear but I cannot see

Crybaby

Abdicated, celibate
More than had enough of it

I can hear but I cannot see
Crybaby.

Not saying I don't like you.
Your skin, your hair, your eyes...
I'd just love to see your blood,
to taste your sweet demise.

I love your pretty teeth,
shiny, sharp, and red.
But oh they'd be so much sweeter,
tasting them while you were dead.

Darling, little Moon Beam...
shining so wonderfully 'Blue'.
Let me see your Bones.
Let me finally taste you.

When you were a kid, you had a favorite toy.
Be it a doll, a tiny truck, a car, a stuffy.
You did have one.

While you had one,
I was one.

I was played with.
Fed upon.
Made to be used and abused

Isn't it funny?
How some people are like like kids,
and Others are more like their pretty, little, shiny, toys.

"Oh mommy!" He would cry
"She is so pretty"
"So Cute"
"so wet..."

Malicious


I am not a toy
I am a real person
I am real

am I?

all alone
im in my bed
lights so low
and my family gone

i washed my hair
scrubbed skin for hours to remove his touch
yet he
clings
on.

but im barely hanging on
and i dont think anyone else is
sometimes i think about you

and
         i
             am
                      wet.

we used to walk downtown
close to Christmas
you would be stoic and quiet
I would get excited over anything we saw

you wrote poems about me
you told me the most wonderful stories
I always listened
when you called me your little Sunlet

I loved you
I still do

to love a poet is not the same as to be loved by a poet.
to be loved
is so much more fulfilling
I loved you

moon

-L

we talked about everything
and nothing at all
be it in bed
or a bathroom stall

going to sleep
staying awake
we did more
than we thought we could take

m
o
o
n

and i


he liked my poems
and i adored his
words from the heart
sealed with a kiss.

i miss his poems
the sun and the moon
our sunlets

he likes my poems
and i like him.

"im lonely, so lonely."
the saphire cries.
"the moon is dark, gone frome the skies."
she glistens and sharpens in her hue.

"if only, if only"
the gemstones reply
"you would be moved, we could see your eye"
they believe a change is due

yes only, if only, the change would come

his words tangled into his heart, pulling and strangling his blood.
the ink would spew through his eyes, and when he got his hands on paper,
haunting tales of sweet creatures and punishment from devinity.
his stories meant more then anything they taught us to learn.
his words were the things that he left behind.