How do people do this every night?
Go to bed all alone,
knowing there isn't anyone
to fill that side of the bed?
Curling up into myself,
I try to ignore the fact
that I'm completely alone,
no one here to wrap around.
But ****, is it lonely
and sad, so ******* sad.
Sunlight brings welcome respite,
because during the day I'm able
to pretend all is well.
But night, oh god, the night.
I dread having to lie in bed
knowing too **** well it's me
and me alone to fill that space.
And no matter how tightly
I wrap my arms around myself,
they're no substitute for yours.

The decision was mine,
     and throughout the day
     I own it.
But late at night,
     home alone,
     lying in bed,
     the façade crumbles.
And I think about
     everything we had,
     how perfect it seemed.
I wrote poetry proclaiming
     my love for you,
But now I'm stuck with these
     tear-marked pages.
Logically, my head tells me
     it was the right choice,
     but it's hard to explain that
     to my heart sometimes.
If I let myself,
     I miss you so ******* much.
But this was my decision,
     so I have to own it.

.                          To seek                  out love
                       is a letdown         in the making.
                    They feed your     heart with all the
                false words, but the moment you try to  
             grasp on to that love it turns out they were
           just using an accumulation of sounds that do
          nothing but disguise their lust.  For that's all it
             is underneath. Peel back the proclamations
                of love and adoration, seek out the truth,
                      the purpose of the utterances, and
                          maybe you'll be able to peek a
                             glimpse at the truth within.
                                They say they love you,
                                     *******, they just
                                        want to ****
                                               you.

I asked a beautiful boy
to write my birthday on my wrist.

I passed him a purple pen
and he sat shoulder-to-shoulder with me
resting my arm on his leg.

We sat like this
for much longer than we should've.

And you know what I asked him?

I asked a beautiful boy
to be my boyfriend.