You always tell me the name of your favorite book
Yet the next month you tell me of the one you've read that you like one hundred times better
You've told me your favorite color
But once your eyes have rested upon a new one,
Your favorite color alters to the one you find more appealing
You always listen to your favorite song
But by now you've played on repeat at least hundreds of different "favorite" songs of yours
This is why I'm scared when you call me your favorite
And I constantly fear that when someone better crosses your path
I will be tossed over your shoulder like a piece of trash
And forgotten for eternity

Maybe, for once, I want someone to tell me that they wont leave me alone.
Maybe, for once, I want a truthful response to my worries instead of a lie or silence.
Maybe, for once, I would like a bit of sense in a confusing circumstance.
Maybe, for once, I don't want to be treating like the helpless weakling that people believe me to be because suicide is on my mind at all times. I may be miserable, but I am not giving up, no matter what ******* people throw at me.
Maybe, for once, I want to be a ******* human being, not a glass figurine with diamond tears.

If only you know you are wasting that pretty face,
that scarred body,
that filled mind
and those skillful hands,
your sweet words and fake kindness

If you could only let go of the dark,
I am willing to walk you down the exit
we could be actual friends,
we could actually be true to ourselves

I'm digging a hole deep and wide
I'll bury my love for you inside
then I'll fill it in, right to the top
and stamp it down, in hope to stop
these feelings that stumble from my core
and silence them forever more.

I'm building a wall as high as I might
behind it I'll hide my heart and my light
some stones once removed, now back, standing tall
they'll keep me within and forbid me to fall.

I'll paint on my smile, cherry red beaming wide
I'll laugh when expected, though empty inside
I'll move through this life like I haven't a care
but if you look closely
You'll see I'm not there.

I'm feeling an expansion
That isn't physical
Nor inside of my head
I know, I've checked
And, though easily tired
I have scoured my depths
For what?
A notion of things past
Experiences not realized
Nor will be
Misogynist, hater of existence
All but mine
A gift to myself
Fruition to be
Or not yet seen
Both awake and in slumber
I writhe, lain flat in covers
Real and fictional alike
There's nowhere to direct a longing
If ever I would create one