There's not enough pills
Not enough *****
Not enough anything to **** the pain
We're capable of feeling

A tiny universe rest on my skin,
A reflection of Amber and gold.
Belly flopped jives and reaping
Good times exists in the howling
Wind.

The worst type of poetry is the kind
That was never written down.
It's stuck in peoples hearts, but not
On paper.
It would **** to be whispered in your
Lovers heart,
Instead of dying in your throat.
You never did pick up that pen.
In your own way, you left some words
Dead,
Unsaid.  

The worst type of poetry is the kind that is left in peoples heads.

we've ran this marathon before, love
don't let me trip

I died in the light with shards of glass
Stuck in my back.
I died tonight when I saw the ripped pages
All over the floor.
I burned them when I was young.
Those were my secrets bleeding
On the floor.

I died tonight when I realized that shadows
Could cry.
I Didn't know darkness its had its own eyes,
Its own lives.
Teenage tears are mixed with adult grief.
I've been my own enemy; the worse thief.

I died at seventeen.

Seriously where the **** are you. I need you now more than ever and I don't know where you are. You've stood by my side since my freshmen year, please don't leave me now. Please. I need you. My rock my anchor my semicolon. Where the **** are you....