who’d lend me their shoulder?
who’d listen to my thoughts?
who’d wipe my tears?
if you weren’t around.
my mind would wander back
into its darkest places.
my wrists would bleed
more than before.
my already-shivering arms
would be colder.
my youth would lose its youth
and i would be older.
my sadness would creep back
until i forget happiness again.
without you, i couldn’t be me,
i’d be back to where i don’t want to be.
the stinging tears
and harmful thoughts
that only exist in my mind,
would become actions and consequences.
i’m glad i have you,
because i wouldn’t just be lonesome,
without you.

strangely—
i’ve been getting these dreams.
these dreams are about death,
but not some stranger’s,
my own.
not only is it my own death,
but it’s the way i do it—
it’s been different everytime.

my brunette locks waving slowly
as i fight the water—drowning.

tears running from my emerald eyes,
as i slice my arms open in a bathtub.

my lifeless body swinging,
whilst hanging from a rope.

tears and screams escaping,
as i hold a pistol in my mouth.

my soft skin burning,
while i’m surrounded by flames.

my realization of my loneliness,
as my heart breaks.

god help me.

love is like Pride & Prejudice,
you might believe
someone isn’t the one,
but you may end up
falling in love with them.

and that’s the love i want.

i watch the colorful animals
trot along my vivid imagination.
the red and white stripes,
and gold lined decorations.
around, around, around once more,
but in fact it never stops.

my bones get weaker
but my heart is eager.
somehow, the carousel
keeps spinning,
through my dull life.
the red has darkened,
the white, not-so-white anymore,
the gold just ever so slightly tarnished.

my bones tired,
my heart has lost its fire.
the carousel slightly turning.
the red is now hardly visible.
the white is stained black.
and it was if gold was never there.

i found out this “carousel”
is not a “carousel”
but a clock,
counting my seconds,
while continuing to spin,
until now—
it has stopped.

‘tis the season,
of coldness.
my frost-bitten
figertips are sick
of the cold.
my red nose
and rosy cheeks
burning from the snow.
i wish i could drown
in the hot-cocoas
i long for.
my shivering arms
and cold toes
just want to be warm.
the darkness of the winter
makes the darkness
in my mind
find it’s way back.
spark me a flame—
thaw my cold heart
and hands.
remind me of warm thoughts,
the summer sun,
the burning of hot sand—
ugh, there’s only
snowflakes and frost.
i guess i’ll deal until
the warmness
finds its way back.

it’s painful,
extremely torturing,
that the ocean,
is 657.7 miles away.

the only place
that fills me
with such honest joy
is the beach.

it’s spiritual,
being in a gorgeous place,
filled with hot sand
and cold water.

instead of being
in the most wonderful place,
i’m here,
stuck in my room.

my room,
even if it’s just kentucky,
is filled with nautical
decorations.

it all just reminds me
where i’d rather be.
i’ve surrounded myself
with the ocean.

~•~

god i miss the ocean