Hot.
The fire you cast upon my soul
Slowly burning what I am
Slowly removing memories,
Love,
Passion.
The thoughts I held back
The memories I tried to forget
Burning their way back into my memory
A heart lined with a barrier that used to stand tall
But turned into ramshackles
The irrational decisions
Based on following emotions over knowledge.

© Regan

I have an infatuation with you
Except you don’t.
I love your eyes
But you can’t see me.
I love the smile,
She doesn’t bring to you.
I like the way you talk to me,
Long pauses to look at each other.
Flirting occasionally
But still making sure you want me.
Keeping you happy,
But destroying some of my own.
But I’m still addicted to you
Everything you are
Everything I’m not.

© Regan

The touch of your skin
Holding me close
Pulling me in
The color of love
The color of disaster
The color of pain
The color of life
But in reality the color is blank
For those to fill in
A different meaning to each and every person
Who learns their color on their own
You brought the color of green
A mix of yellow and blue
Yellow is the happiness
And blue is the emotions
Of sadness and despair
In a blank canvas world
You bring me saturation.

© Regan

Take one slow breath.
Breathe through your nose.
You are overreacting, it's just change.
"You don't understand!"
I am leaving everything and everyone I've ever known.
The streets I've walked.
The bruises I've gotten from your hands.
The broken-heart you've given me.
I can't just breathe.
Not even a breath.
You see, you've lived everywhere, almost as if you've never had a home.
This has been my only home,
the only place I can tell you the streets like the back of my hand.
You can't forget your hometown, unless you've never had one.
The people.
The small bakery on the corner.
The library across the street.
Those are some of the things I will never forget. Don't tell me to take a breath,
when you have never been through this.
You hypocrite.

© Regan

Bright.
Noticeable.
Lights.
Laying in the hospital bed being pushed around by screaming doctors. The IV rushing fluids into my bloodstream. The fuzziness of the lights as I slightly open my eyes.
Fast.
Running.
Doctors.
Am I dying? I definitely am dying. No I can't, I'm too young to die! I can't die.
But I can.
I'm old enough to die.
I can't choose when I die.
The operating room is cold, and smells like it's too clean. The anesthesia slowly drowns me in a sleep like stage.
Am I dying?
I am living through the thought of dying.
The ventilator is keeping me from dying.
The anesthesia has caused me to die.
I'm not waking up.
I'm not alive.
I am dead.

© Regan

The look of your eyes when you look at the stars reflects so much hope. When you grab my hand and pull me closer it feels perfect, as if the stars were aligned in that moment. When you hold my hand and guide me to god-knows where, I feel needed.
The touch.
The smell.
The adrenaline rushing through our heads.
And the moment is gone. I've woken up, from a fantasy that only occurs in my head.
Gasp of morning air flows through my lungs as reality hits again.
And I know it is only a fantasy my mind wanders to every so often.

© Regan