Rest your mind,
oh and rest your head.
Fall asleep
in my arms tonight.

I promise to hold you tight
as you forget the world.
Please just forget
your world.
The world that was so unkind to you.
The world that dealt you hands you didn't deserve.

I promise to take away the pain
as you lean into me.
Oh please,
lean into me.

I promise to take away your worries
as you learn to trust someone else.
Darling please
trust in me.
I know it's not fair,
because I haven't trusted in you.
But please,
do this for me?

I promise you that it will be okay
as you hold on a little longer.
Please child,
hold on a little longer.

You're my addiction.
My sweet addiction.
My painful addiction.

Just as an addict never truly
overcomes his addiction,
I will never,
ever
be over
you.
But you knew that didn't you?

I'll see a light one day
and pull myself out of your shadow,
then I'll relapse.
You know how it goes.
The rekindled hope.
The fear that goes along with it,
because what if that hope leads nowhere at all?
The smiles when I get your texts
or see you come in the door.
The breath that catches in my throat
when you smile, or laugh,
or do just about anything.

Oh I could have loved you.
The things I would have done for you,
sacrificed for you-
You really don't get it do you?
You don't think you're worth it,
I've seen it in your eyes.
But I want to grab your face and whisper,
"You are worth it.
You deserve it all,
anything you want
(and I hope you want me).
You. Are. Worthy."

Tonight I'm just angry with you,
I'm fuming in my bed as a write this at 12:32.
But give me a few more weeks
and I'll relapse again-
Just back where I started.
No really,
it would be back where I started
because the thing is
(the really pathetic detail is):
I grew up loving you.
The weeks we spent at summer camp
taught me how to love a boy like you.
They taught me how to laugh
and how to live.
They taught me all about you.

When I relapse with you,
I relapse with something else too.
I relapse with scars
and tears
and of course regret.
Because isn't that always how it goes?

The world must stay in balance.
That's why power comes with responsibility,
hope with fear,
and love... with pain.

And I'm addicted to every bit of it.

You're too far gone,
so I guess it's the end
and I'll quit holding on.

A wise man once said,
"You only lose
what You cling to."

Heartbreak has existed ever since
the world has been turning-
for so long, for so many breaks.

Mine may mean nothing.
It may be forgotten with time,
as time heals all wounds.

As I yearn for the times
where that will be true,
I lay awake late to think.

I think of many things,
including a new break-
Who will he be? And why will he be mine?

Even a new break would be...
well kinder than You,
because You forgot.

You forgot how we talked-
about shows and shopping,
and a silly thing called Dubstep.

You forgot how we bonded-
over church and annoyances,
but never about pain, that's saved for now.

You forgot how we acted-
the stolen looks and the obvious smiles,
and the awkward us.

That was the beauty in all of this-
I was awkward,
and so were You.

That was the irony in all of this-
I was smart,
and You were... not.

That was the fun in all of this-
we could have been perfect,
You and I.

We could have had those marathons,
and dressed up on Halloween,
and gone to those movies.

You could have played guitar,
and I could have been breathless,
and written a thousand words.

You could have taught me to skateboard,
and I could have taught You math,
among so many other things.

The things I would have done for You,
The girl I wanted to be for You,
You have no idea what You caused.

The feelings I felt for the old You
were like nothing before
and nothing since.

You messed me up, even broke me.
I can no longer talk to anyone
other than You.

You don't want me,
but no one else can have me.
How is that fair?

So I am scared.
Scared that I fell to hard, to young
and that only time can heal this girl.

I was never the girl to think
that all the guys must like me,
quite the opposite.

But with You it was different.
With You I knew.
You had to have liked me.

At some point in our short story,
You decided I was beautiful-
I was worth it.

At some point in our short story,
You forgot I was perfect-
I was unwanted.

I will not say I am here crying,
because I am not.
I am wallowing.

The thing is- I'm tired of wallowing.
I want time to give me a remote
so I can fast-forward to the healing.

I am tired
of falling again and again,
over and over.

I fall for your smile each time,
I fall for those blue eyes,
as much as I wish to fall into beautiful water.

I fall for your wierdness,
I fall for your awkwardness,
I fell for You.

Then
You
Changed.

So do me one favor.
Please clean up your life.
You could be perfect once again.

I see You now,
and really I'm not mad,
only disappointed.

Not just in us, but in You.
The You that could have been,
I'm afraid he might be long gone.

I always thought pain
brought people together,
as something to cling to as they fell.

But pain, I believe,
was what drew us apart-
separate pains at the wrong time.

I had my troubles and fears,
and though You stayed silent,
I know You did too.

I saw it on your face,
but time only made it clearer,
Not healed.

They say time heals all wounds.
So maybe, just maybe,
it can heal You as well.

But what if I am wrong?
What if time will heal nothing?
Only open the soul to more of the dark.

I desperately hope I am right
and time will heal both
me and You.

I know what they think.
How could I wish You the best
after the breaks You caused?

My friends see smoke
when they see You.
They only want the best for me.

And the best is no longer You.
I still wish You everything
regardless of the eye rolls.

Because it's true, maybe Someday
Time will end,
And we'll see each other again.

Promise me that You
will have your guitar,
that the nights will not rob You.

Promise me that You
will still have your taste in shows,
that the 'friends' will not rob You.

Promise me that You
will still have your skateboard,
that the pain will not rob You.

Because pain should not come
like a thief cloaked in black
ready to plunder.

Instead it should come
before the healing,
after time.

There's a beating

down in my heart

and painful butterflies

in my stomach.



I worry that this

could be the

Beginning

of a repeat.



You watch my shows like him.

You play guitar like him.

You are awkward like him.

You could hurt me like him.



This heart,

well it's not ready

for another time

where sleep is sweet relief.



I don't want to wake up

and see you tomorrow

because it could be

one step closer.



Don't be him-

that's my plea.

My heart cries out

"Not again."



Before you hurt me,

tell me when.

Don't let me blindly

fall in love.



So let me know

even if it hurts

and I'll walk away

new and broken.



When you get a new bruise

it hurts to be touched.

I have one on my heart

that I must protect.



Is this how it goes?

The heart gets wounded

so it pretends not to care

so it deflects any blows.



Because if nothing touches,

nothing can hurt.

And if nothing can hurt

then it might be all right.



Should I tell you now

all the scary truths?

That I'm messed up and broken

and may never be right.



I have scars upon my skin

that I am afraid for you to see.

Will you turn away?

Will I no longer be beautiful?



I have scars upon my soul

that I am afraid for you to know.

Will I be to broken?

Will I no longer be worth the trouble?



I've been bruised and battered

like an old castle door.

The ramparts have been different,

but always there.

Some friends are good,

when others

are not.



Some friends are fun,

when there is

far to little.



Some friends are stupid,

when there is

much to think about.



But the best friends

have been wounded.

They have felt all the feels

and have been dealt all the deals.



Those are the ones

that can see humor

and beauty

where others see nothing.



Those are the ones with scars.

Some they regret, others they don't.

Because each is a lesson,

that needed to be taught,



Those are the ones

you look at and think,

"Well they are so strong

they could stand through anything."



Those are the ones

that in their hearts are afraid,

that still have nightmares

in waking hours and sleepy dazes.



Those are the ones

that still manage to walk,

that still manage to look,

that still manage to smile.



Those are the ones

who have gone through so much

that no one can tell them

the pain is not real.



Those are the ones

who will listen

and speak

with quiet voices and loud minds.



Those are the ones

that are the most beautiful.

So this is how it feels

as the years wind down.

The emotions flow

as streams of saltwater.



The memories are worthy

of more than words.

We communicate in looks

and tears and smiles.



Exhaustion is easy,

sleep is not.

There is too much to think

but not enough desperate hours in the night.



When the sun comes up

our childhood will flee.

The people we met

will blur in our heads.

But the feelings we felt

will hold fast in our hearts.



These last few years,

you haven't been here

to drop me off or pick me up.

But this year

I held you close to my heart,

on a chain around my neck.