When my mother asks me
why I don't want to fall in love
I just shrug and say "I just don't"
because I cannot bring myself to tell her
love kills you and I'd much rather a die a
less painful way.

I feel so sad for
little kids with high hopes
and innocent thoughts.
And think the world is
okay and that adults know
everything needed to know.
And soon one day they're going
to figure out with the world
isn't a nice place. They're going
to find out instead that:
war's a thing,
so is a judgement,
people get sad,
people die,
people use one another,
people are all in general ****,
hearts are broken,
people are sad
and adults don't know everything.

i wrote letters
on the back
of coffee shop
napkins with ideas how
to make you
*stay

People noticed
my words
because
they were pretty
and I was not.

Im getting tired
of looking up everyday
and whispering to someone
that i'm okay.

Love,
is the harshest of fantasies.
created by the meanest people,
in order to make us content. in the
horrible lives we live,
on this horrible planet.
surrounded by horrible people
And,
unfortunately for us; life
expectantcy is not
getting any
shorter.

and i
hope somewhere
in your
new *******
world which
i'm sure
you share
with someone
else. That
i loved
you when
everyone else
gave up
on you
and i
hope one
day that
when i've
given up
on myself
you walk
back into
my life
and save
me from
saying goodbye.

"Keep ******* breathing."
I didn't know what was worse.
The fact I wasn't dying and you
were crying, or the fact I was so ready,
to give up on you.

   "You don't have this choice."
But I do, I so do. Please darling,
let me go and don't hurt yourself,
over me anymore. Move on with
someone whos worth your tears.

   "Don't give up on me too."
But darling I already have, long
before you ever gave up on me.
You were just so thrown into this,
from the start.

   "Wait, don't leave without me."
Do I have a choice? You'd follow me
straight away because you lost the hope
that you once found in me. On the count of
three we'll close our eyes and say goodbye.
  
"And don't forget to smile."
Don't worry darling, I won't.

I'm sorry.
It's so funny.
For every time, I say
that I'm sorry. More
blood of mine, spills
on these ******* pages.

   I'm losing.
A battle you once said,
that I'd win. But I'm not.
Your too far away up there,
do you miss me too? I'm
coming to see you soon.

   I'm sorry.
It's probably getting harder
to read with my blood spilling.
I won't be like this forever the
doctor said. Now I know why you left,
And this is my final sorry too.

I like to think of your soul as a square.
With a dusty corner, due to sad memories
that you haven't opened in a while.
   In the opposite corner, there's a vacant
cobweb just lying there because you don't
like spiders and you daren't clean it.
   In the middle, there's a bunch of live
flowers. Filled with the brightness of your
smile and the tears you cry at night.
   Slightly to the left, are the marks
where you brushed a blade across
your skin one night and tried to die.
   (I'm glad you didn't though). More
to the right is a ring your mother used
to wear around her neck before she died.
   And above, the flowers and the ring, is a
letter I gave you on our year anniversary and
despite being 5 years later. You still have it.
   With a reply from yourself, saying: *thank you
for understanding the black parts of my soul. And the only
reason the colour's showing through is because of you.

in all honesty,
i dont think anyone,
even realises how ******,
being a teenager is.

in all honesty,
i dont think even,
teenagers realise how ******,
being a teenager is.

My phone's lying on the floor,
again.
And I'm purposely ignoring it,
due to the fear burning inside me,
of which continues to light itself.

Because a part of me knows what I want,
and the other part is my ******* heart,
telling me over and over again.
"No, it's this you want."

Because you are probably talking,
to someone much better than I'll ever be,
and I am probably annoying you.

But for some reason, I can't tell myself,
"no that's enough for now"

Your not perfect, but your **** close enough.

It's weird to think,
that only 5, 6 days ago,
I was sharing your company
and you were sharing mine,
and whilst I'm here remembering,
every word that was said and,
memorizing every letter you pronounced,
you probably can't even remember,
the conversation we shared about autumn;
and how you laughed when I mentioned loving
dark lipsticks, which never would affect you.
And how I'm sat here wishing, wishing forever,
that you were in love with a girl with blonde in her hair,
enjoys to wear dark lipstick in autumn and winter.
And how you want to desperately show her,
she doesn't need to push people out.
Because you're a person to.

I can't understand what happened,
   but for some reason, your eyes are
   more blue than they normally were.

   Your cheeks stand out more,
   with a developed cheek and,
   jaw line is more define than usual.

   It's weird to think that a year ago,
   we barely even spoke and you were
   just there to me, just existing to me.

   But now your something so much more,
   and I can't shake this feeling that maybe,
   I've set myself up for a loss and I'm nothing.

   Because, I wouldn't except to be anything to you,
   because I'm barely anything to myself so much that,
   I hardly look in a mirror the fear of my own flaws.

   So what does that say about me as a human?
   willing to do think of you as something so,
   amazing, so talented, so utterly out of this world.

   So I'll admire you from afar, because I already know,
   if I admire you up close I'm heading towards an early grave,
   with my mortician sighing and writing down "shattered heart."

It was December when I first saw you,
   your face was tanned considering,
   snow had been pouring down for days,
   since the 15th (now the 21st).

   My cheeks were flushed rose,
   like roses had come alive and,
   painted them their very selves,
   twisting their thorns like brushes.

   It was cold outside and the cafe
   was warm like the first smile,
   which froze onto your lips when,
   I walked in with my friend who noticed.

   I couldn't leave the cafe without learning,
   how many syllables were in your name,
   or if you were currently in a relationship,
   (and thank god above that you weren't).

   I spent Christmas meeting your sister,
   and her little boy who was only three,
   and bless his heart for he was maybe,
   just the sweetest soul i've seen.

   We spent New Year with my family,
   as my they decided I couldn't keep you,
   my own little secret anymore and,
   you knew how much that annoyed me.

   I spent Valentines day realising,
   all the trips we've been on and,
   the things that we've seen it's surprising,
   I haven't ran half a mile but i'm comfy here.

   And by the time the first shower of April came,
   I was lying in your bed on a precious Sunday morning,
   Realising it was too late for me to get hurt,
   Because I was already head over heels in love,

With you.

I watched you, board the ferry from Calais,
   tears streaming down both of our faces,
   so much I could no longer determine
   the colour of your eyes.

   I stayed, until the ferry set sail over the
   English channel and then I turned my
  back. I got into my car and leant my head
  against something much like you were
  probably doing.

   I drove back to the hotel we booked together,
   a lonely drive back down to Paris to the hotel
   but now you aren't there making constant jokes
   as you tried to speak french (which you still can't).

But somewhere in the back of our minds,
We'll always have the place we met,
And the place we parted.

We'll always have Paris.

I'm jealous of all the girls,
   who can wing out their eyeliner,
   and learn how to fly.

   Whos eyebrows are perfect,
   without filling them in,
   even though they still do.

   I'm jealous of all the girls,
   who can speak to anyone,
   and who aren't in a lower league.

   Whos hair is perfect any day,
   and whos smile could,
   make world peace a real thing.

   I'm jealous of all the girls,
   who fly around people at school,
   without feeling the need to hide.

  Whos life seems perfect whatever,
  and who get invited to parties, real parties,
  whom have decent friends.

   I'm jealous to all the girls with lovely,
   long blonde hair to which people,
   compliment as though it'll be their last.

   Whos outfit is amazing,
   whos life is and their friendship group,
   whilst I'm here trying and trying.

   Always trying.

   And I'm sorry.
   For all the time I pull out my flaws,
   I break your heart just once more.