I am the blue of a bruise.
I am the black of the bags under your eyes.

I am the tar in your lungs,
I am the acid in your throat,
I am the venom in your veins.

I am shivering out of fear
And insecurities.
I am shaking out of hatred,
And all the rage you possess.

I am making the music louder
Louder
Louder
Louder
Too loud.

I am curled in a corner,
With a blanket pulled over your head.

I am the poison you know
All too well.

I am the reason you say
You're probably going to hell.

I am disgust
I am rage
I am the reason
You don't make it
To the end of the day.

I am all your deep seeded
Insecurities
And I'm coming out to play.

She sometimes reminds me of
A Taylor Swift with glitter teardrops, aged sixteen
She sometimes reminds me of
That girl you meet and never see again
Sometimes she is the one I will never meet
The blonde girl in my town
Holding my heartbeat
When she wipes the glitter from her eye
And gives a smile that will never die
I look into heart and see her love story,
incomplete.

Her red curly hair blew in the wind like calm waves in a storm
Her freckles reminded me of the countless nights we spent staring at constellations among the sky
Her icy blue eyes were the winter among the spring atmosphere
Her curved lips were candy apples at a fair.

She stared back at me with a slight smirk on her face, the same smirk she always carried on her face when she’d dance around in the rain or when she’d fall asleep on my chest when we were young.
Everything about her, just her.

Anxiety is love's greatest killer.

It makes others feel as you might when a drowning man holds on to you.

You want to save him, but you know he will strangle you with his panic.

At one moment, your depression is telling you that you don't care what happens. Then the next moment, your anxiety is screaming and clawing at you to do something. Having depression and anxiety is a constant war inside of yourself. Though, there are no winners.

I remember the days when we were two stupid kids,
we were eating blackberries grown on tombs
and the moon was just a big stone
the sun was leaving its last breath on.

Now I am looking for you on the Wood street
where you last time smiled at me,
on the Wood street where people eat with their hands
the remains  of those burned by unhappiness,
while fools sing about love and dreams and the holes in their hearts.

I am looking for you
and I don't know whether you are a human or a dream
or the ash
that slips through my frozen fingers.

Maybe you are just the hole in my soul,
maybe the moon is more than a big stone,
maybe I loved you
maybe
you are still there somewhere
in the Sun's last breath.
Maybe it's just your smile
that has burned
covering my soul
my hands.