You know my dear I could have, loved you for all time,
but I know that you don't want that, so this is the last rhyme,
there's still so many things, I never got the chance to say,
but oh well it doesn't matter, you'd not believe them anyway.

i feel it...i see how the rain drops on her long hair, how wet her clothes is getting...but she keeps on walking in slow motion, deep in thoughts...like she doesn't even know what's happening around her, doesn't feel the rain. she can't feel anything. not anymore.

A speck of paradise
A miracle abandoned
Only waiting for the clouds to change to gray
Hanging in those dark untitled spaces
Her petals are a useless perfection
Her poetry a moonlit someday

A messy galaxy
A teardrop infinity
Grace doesn't paint amorous feelings
On headaches in the space under the bed
Her flower blooms a bruise
Her worlds are dying words

Too quiet or too loud.
    Too aware of my surroundings or too far into        
    my own head.
Too social or too isolated.
    Too distracted or too focused.
Too anxious or too emotionless.
    Too awake or too tired.
Too giving or too selfish.
    Too many thoughts to speak or too little to
    form a sentence.
Too easygoing or too manipulative.


             Too much. Too much. Too much.

Perfect.
I was not
insecure, fragile, forgotten.
They said I was
confident, kind, happy.
I was not
my mistakes, my shortcomings.
They'd never forgive
the people who hurt me.
They were my friends.
........................................................­................

They were my friends,
the people who hurt me.
They'd never forgive
my mistakes, my shortcomings.
I was not
confident, kind, happy.
They said I was
insecure, fragile, forgotten.
I was not
perfect.