It's 4 AM and visions of you are keeping me awake.  
My mind is cluttered with thoughts I shouldn't be having...

I want to hold your hand in the backseat when my parents can't see.
I want to kiss that spot on your neck that I've been dying to.
I want to map out your body with only my fingertips.
I want my name spilling out of your mouth incoherently.
I need you.

Oh, please understand that when I said
"Stop..."
I really didn't mean it -- by no means did I mean it.
But I needed you to.
God knows what I would have done otherwise.

The first afternoon I can recall,
you grabbed my hand
and took me outside.
You surprised me, I said.
Because that noon
is the first time
I saw that lake.

The second afternoon I can recall,
you called me by name
and we went outside.
I brought you lunch, and
we drank some
mind-boggling liquid
which you stole from that old man
living beside that lake.
We lied on the grass, and
if that was not a dream, I hope not,
I felt your breath with mine, and your lips
on mine.

The third afternoon I can recall,
you went to my bed
and shook me awake.
I was mesmerized to see you again,
but you’ve changed.
The colour in your eyelids, your cheeks,
and your lips was artificial.
If you haven’t spoken, I
wouldn’t be able to recognize you.
Sitting at the edge of my bed,
you’ve said the name of that lake,
and I knew  it was you still.

The fourth afternoon I can recall,
you were 18 and still cried on my shoulder
not because you were hurt, but
because you were happy  getting married.
Flowers, chairs, and a priest
waited  for you beside that lake.
I was about to cry at that moment, knowing
it wasn’t me you were marrying.

The fifth afternoon I can recall,
you yelled at me,
“I can’t live this way!”
I asked you why, but
you didn’t tell me, you showed me.
That kiss beside that lake was wrong.
In all of the reasons why it was wrong,
I found one which is right.
You loved me the way I loved you.

The sixth afternoon I can recall,
you left me
alone beside that lake.
Yes, you loved me, but
as you have said you need to love yourself more.
I can’t hold you any blame for leaving,
I understood, and I lived with the promise
that you’ll come back to me –
in one piece or even in ashes.

The seventh afternoon I can recall,
you were barely alive.
You looked old, with dark circles around your eyes.
You hid them with glittery make-up.
“This lake haven’t changed.” you said.
I looked at that lake,
its beauty and all its glory
looked nothing
next to you.

The eighth afternoon I can recall
was the worst of them all.
You didn’t call, you didn’t leave,
you didn’t cry, you didn’t go to my bed.
And you weren’t barely alive.
Someone wrote me a letter, not you,
to take you where you and bring you back home.
You didn’t find yourself, you’ve lost it
To yhe hero
in your veins, who ate you in your sleep.

This afternoon,
I carry you, with all but  my shattered heart,
inside a jar.
My tears are one with that lake,
but I’ll bury you beside it.
I know you’re happy.
Your soul one with that lake.

Time alone,
and moments of silence,
are few,
and far between here.

Swimming in a room of voices,
diving into the world,
and I find myself,
enjoying it.

I don't miss being alone,
nights where I would have dates with myself.

I could never go a cupel days,
without being alone,
before.

But here,
I find myself in love,
with this life,
and these people

She reads
                                          And she sleeps
                                                      Way too much
                                                            ­           It's her coping defence
                                                                ­               When nothing else will suffice
                                                         ­               She needs to get away
                                                       Without actually leaving
                                             Because she's too scared
                                   And too tired
                                            To leave her bed
                                                      So she cracks open a book
                                                            ­     To escape somewhere far away
                                                            ­             And she'll sob for the characters
                                                      ­                       Whose brokenness resembles hers
                                                            ­                                   And then she'll sleep
                                                           ­                                   And have sweet dreams
                                                          ­              Of realities that are not her own
                                                       Because pretending is so much easier
                                                 Than facing reality
                             So she'll sleep and dream
          And secretly wish she won't wake up
So she can finally escape

We walked in to darkness,
putting off what we both know what it will bring,
as sadness began to flare, and anxiety started to sing,
we both looked up to stars,
knowing it's one thing that has always healed our scars,
I began to cry a bit,
knowing it was going to be a while till we got to sit,
and talk aboot how many views we got that day,
I said I love where the middle star in Orion sits,
because the darkest spot in the night sky,
is a lie,
its a gateway to every thing that has ever come to pass,
and as our cigarettes came to an, I was praying the final drags would last,
we smiled at each other with a knowing,
that in the morning I would be going,
with a sigh I put the night to and end,
talking aboot the pictures each of us need to send,
we said good night, with a belly full of lead,
the conversation never ends, but the cigarette is dead,
and we say,
sleep well and see you in the morning,
looking at you with eyes full of sad, we say I'll talk to you later,
but in my heart I am saying,
I love you Dad.

an emptiness swells up in my chest
and i do nothing about it
i just wanna carve my chest up
and throw away these worthless bits of me