How many times
Can I draw on my arms
With sharpie
To prevent me
From hurting myself?

I've found new ways
To induce pain.

I smoke.
I drink too much.
I search for love in others
Who want nothing to do with me.

These black lines
Along my forearms
Do not shield me from pain
Like I wished they would.

They only mask
My fear.

As I lay in the darkness
Playing with shadows
Entertaining phantoms
That may never pass
The moon slowly ducks
Behind some houses
The sky is still dark
But a solitary birdsong
Cuts through the darkness
Like a knife
A lonely but brave call
To the sun to free it
From the darkness
So it may spread it's
Wings once more and
Take flight.
The solitary song
Continues sad but
Brave and beautiful
My heart hurts
For this tiny creature.
For how can it trust
That the sun will
Respond to it's lonely call
As it echos though the still night?
But then through the inky darkness
As the silence settles in
Another faraway song begins
To ****** through the night air
And another and another...
Beautiful brave calls
Determined to break the darkness
In their unity.
Different sounds echo in
A chorus across the already
Lightening night sky,
As though their very calls
Are strong enough to call
Forth the sun
And pull it up by it's roots
And for a moment I nearly believe it.
The chorus grows louder
And more diverse
Pretty song birds
Twittering sweet notes
To the lush low of seagulls
Calling to the sun to rise up
And suddenly as if
Beckoned by their calls
A single ray of sun breaks
The horizon
As their song
Hits a crescendo
And then a lull
As though temporarily humbled
By the sun's answer
To their call
Before bursting
Into full chorus again
In celebration and awe
As the sun rises
For another beautiful day.

The thing is, you were a good boyfriend
But my dead feelings had to come to an end
I couldn't pretend to feel for you like before
So I ended us and I run out that door

I ran away because I honestly was afraid
Afraid of what you might have said if I stayed
Once before you told me you loved me
And for that I knew I had to leave

I loved you too, but differently
I couldn´t be faking it to make you live happily
I had to do it, think of myself and I am sorry
To have made you believe we were a love story

And in the cool, drifting abyss of all lost things,
I find you.
You who are affected by the world's discontent,
who watched through penetrating, yet clear eyes--
everything fall apart, underneath the disguise of
impeccable clothes
and red (or black) lipstick--
you who watched the light dance in people's eyes
and tried to determine whether
they were illusions or not,
you who remembered
how it felt to be free for the first time,
standing tall in the clear, cold water and basking in your pain, but daring someone to drown you--
while you learned to breathe.
You who felt love
radiating throughout your body and mind,
how when you looked at her, you saw stars with muffled shines
and the ghosts of a different universe--
you reached out and touched her, gave her your words
drifting across the dark, rigid screen
bursting it like a single drop, forming rapid ripples--
and someday, the truth will come out
how when we're all alone, and the world is drawing to a close
underneath all the pretenses
and the hidden solitary pain,
you will draw out that cigarette full of stars, and let the ashes of a lost world's dreams be carried through the wind,
riding on the smoke of despair--
riding on a soul,
never shattered.

i need you in order to water the baby’s breath
that grows inside of me,
trapped in my ribcage and collarbones.
i’m spilling over with harsh subliminal messages,
subconscious limits that make my skies
clouded.
but you are every colour,
a prism met with light reflecting the rainbow,
and somehow not only am i yours
but you are mine as well.
insistent, telling myself
that you are worth it-
all of the bitter heartache that will come.
nothing lasts forever.
miniature lifetimes,
taking over the whole.
you’re my little secret
but the world should
know you're mine.

I really dislike these changes you've made,
while some are okay
others have ruined my day.

Do you understand my frustration
Or should I hand you a pile of ash
To crumble to pieces in your hand
To demonstrate what my life is doing.