I refuse to give negativity
and hate any more of my time
Once given the power
it can take over your life and your mind
I start my day with thanks
and end my day with gratitude
My days are a struggle no more
because I changed my attitude
The world is scary right now
that is one thing we can all admit
So I focus on me and my little bit
and simply change the way I see it

Silt-carriers creeping
Enigmatic tidings
-whiskering
Whiskey translucence
And ***** tonics

Age brought, silent sorrows
I wept them-slowly
For-for-getting,

I could be-
A demon cleansing wreaths
Of teeth and all
You see are leaves.

Petals grow on my skin
Talking venoms and frog-like sin
Yet people are hearing hymns,

Though my wrists are just over
Burdened bludgeonings
Theres blankness and hollows.

How could I forget?

         I was surrounded, confused,
        Overwhelmed, infused.
        Every waking moment,
        I breathed for you.
        I breathed Because of you.
        Everything I would do,
        It was challenging, it was new,
        It was with you.

             How could I forget?

        You made the hairs on the back of my neck stand,
        Constant butterflies and a shiver ran,
        Through my spine,
        Disc to disc,
        Wish for wish,
         I wouldn't take back any of it.

             How could I forget?

        Sentimental. Empty bottles I kept.
        Theres only one I held onto I regret,
        Keeping it bottled up to the brim.
        I'm volatile. Low boiling point.
        I'm missing something that needs,
        To be filled like an empty bookcase,
        But I find books hard to read.

         Why can't I seem to be at peace?

         Why am I tormented by my past feelings,
         When i try to go asleep?

Love is a word flung round
so easily. I've strung myself
out on boys I loved
but knew too well,
and aside from being unobtainable
before midnight on Saturdays
were unsustainable contrasts
to a person like me.

I don't love you.
I never loved you. I barely like you.
I love the smell of you, the feel of you,
waking up beside you and cracking
jokes with you. I weep for that smile,
the way you can't speak in public,
pick the label off your beer
and listen in on conversations
because you can't make your own.
My mother says you sound like
you're boring at parties.

I say no.
It makes me feel special that you
have things to say to me.
In fact, until I heard you speak
I never thought much of you.
I think it's why they say you don't think much of me these days,
only I heard those silly things that you told me.