So now I'm alone again,
Wishing we were more than friends.
You made me feel wanted,
With you I was home.
Now I'm begging you please,
Don't go.
I'm not good on my own.

This blindside,
It's knocked me off my feet.
You feel guilty,
I feel dead.
I never should have showed you,
What goes on in my head.
Dear god what's wrong with me?

What is it,
That makes everyone leave?
Is it the way that I look?
Do I talk in my sleep?
You say it's not me,
But I'm the one you're leaving.
We're crying in my room,
My cries have turned to screams.

So now I'm alone again,
Wishing this would end.
Torn between running back,
And never seeing you again.
How do you take back,
All those things you said?
You feel guilty,
I feel dead.

This is what's inside my head.
You feel guilty,
I feel dead.

What are you still doing here?
I told you to go.
I told you I can't come back home.
But you're still here,
In my bones.
In every atom.
When I said I was addicted,
I meant I was enslaved.
I meant to say I was yours,
You took me captive unknowingly.
And now I can't let it fade,
The comfort of your embrace.
It held me with you,
It captured me willingly.
And I belong to you,
And I always will.

We were both love. I was a rose and you were a snowflake. Both beautiful and gentle but unable to coexist effectively because flowers can’t blossom in the cold.

Yet when it ended, the truth became misconstrued.
Suddenly I was a thorn that pricked you till you bled.
And you were frostbite that nipped away at my skin.

We created false portrayals of each other to make this all a bit easier to deal with.

But the truth will always stay.

We were both beauty, purity, fragility, love.
We just weren’t meant to give our love to each other.

And now we both bleed, because the hardest part is accepting we were never meant to be.

I swore that I knew you
just like the back of my hand
every blemish, every freckle,
every scar, was you

But now
My blemishes begin to even out
My freckles, rearranging themselves
And any old scars are fading.

our souls will probably wind up in the same cemetery.
two plots away.
too far to roll in my grave and see you.
just barely out of touch.
close,
but never quite close enough.

When I was little
I was scared
Scared of the monsters living under my bed
I used to hide, under my blanket
Under my blanket, I was safe
The monsters couldn’t reach me under my blanket

My parents used to say
The monsters would go away
I would grow up and that then they would leave

But I grew up
And the monsters didn’t leave
Turns out my monsters, grew with me
Now instead of under my bed
The monsters live inside my head

So I hide, under my blanket
Where I think I am safe
Wondering if after all this time
My blanket can still keep the monsters at bay