Dear Heavenly Father, I have a confession to make.
For I have received yet another heart break.
She stole my heart, broke it in two,
Then said, “I’m no longer in love with you”
Father, why does she have to be this way?
Please tell her I don’t want to hear what she has to say.
Father, for I have committed a sin,
That day when I let her in.
I want to forget her & what we once had.
All because she lied to me and made me sad.
Father, I am done playing her game.
I’m done with her handing me all the blame.
So if you would father, help me out,
And please show her what this is about.
For I still love her father
But she doesn’t love me so don’t even bother.
She said it was all a lie,
Father she made me cry.
I am weak but have to be strong
Father, what she did was wrong.
I know that now, I knew that then
Please father; get rid of these horrible women.
She used to control me father
Stop what things used to be.
I guess what we had was fake father.
This is the confession I had to make
She never loved me father.
So please don’t even bother
I don’t need someone to hold me tight
I was wrong & they were right
All I need is something that’s not there father
All I needed was for her to care
Father I do not want to let her go.
But its time, and we all know.
Father, my confession may be sad, or a bore,
But my heart hurts so much more.
Pleases father take the pain.
Remember she once said I was a little insane.
Take away the scars caused by this knife.
Oh please father, just take her out of my life.
I miss her so much father.
I miss her kiss and her touch.
For I must leave father,
Cause no one will ever replace me as the babies father
This is my confession.
They all said she was ‘my obsession’.
Father the time has come for me to stop needing her,
Now I believe them father.
Father I need some help down here.
Because you knew loosing her was my fear.
Now you’ve heard my confession, the one I had to make,
So please forgive her for her love, that was so fake

They're questioning, and second guessing
if we're more than just  friends.
They're trying to analyze the look in my eyes.
They're trying to find any expression of affection.
How long can we keep it secret?
People can see our love. It's a beacon.
Our last kiss, we sneaked it.
Do you think they notice my emotions?
All they need is the pieces.
Put together two and two.
Gather the clues.
It should be old news that I love you.
You're so irresistible, and I'm irrepressible.
My love is uncontrollable.
Who cares if no one knows?
I'm comfortable.

Girl
I wanna *******
In your glass house
As we skip rocks
slipping our tongues
into something more comfortable

something less cynical
than the effect
we have on ourselves
in a mirrored conversation
constantly
reflecting back
our insecure subconscious

So come on
let's get physical
Feel the frustration out
It's hijacking your
central nervous system
don't let it control
coax me to the back bedroom
and I'll show you how to ground yourself

Break glass
In case of emergency
We just need a release

there's a map beneath my skin
but the lines point in
all different directions
a slash for the boredom,
a couple for the chaos
follow it to where it splits
and tell me that it's okay
and i'm "just a little sick"
you won't lay in my bed
once you see what
it's like inside my head
so please just
don't wander in at all
cause i'm so *******
sick of helping you find
your way out

Being wrapped in blankets is a seemingly wonderful thing. You get all wrapped up, things are feeling grand, but one wrong movement and BAM: a swab of fabric unexpectedly covers your face. You squirm and try anything to get it off; to unwrap yourself, but, alas, you cannot--you're stuck.
Breathing becomes more and more difficult until you are completely suffocating. Suddenly, everyone walks away, aloof to what is happening; but wait--here's the catch: there are no blankets and there are people all around.

"What's wrong with you?" They ask.

They wonder why doing anything is so hard; why nothing is enjoyable--why you may be numb to everything. They can't see the blankets, or that the struggle to escape overpowers all joy; that it may be so tight that you've become numb.

They don't understand why you want to give up.

"Get over it." They say, as they walk around, free as a bird, no blankets to hold them down.

You want to take their advice; to set yourself free. You begin to slash at the blankets, only to realize you're only slashing at yourself--but it helps for a bit. Maybe you feel less pain; maybe you finally feel something. For a few moments, you can breathe and put on pretend wings.
Fake wings don't last forever, though. Soon they fall, are stolen, break, get lost--whatever it may be--and they're gone.

You slip back into the blankets.

The birds with real wings start to notice; they want to know why you're doing this to them again.
"You were doing so well!" They insist.

You do what you know, and your scars become too numerous to count.
Again and again you escape and find  a pair of wings, but it never seems to be enough.

You are never enough.

Suddenly, you've got it. If you're small enough--strong enough--the blankets can't contain you.
So food becomes your enemy.
Soon enough, your blanket becomes as empty as you are. You think you are strong as you easily slide out, finding refuge in a pair of beautiful wings.
The birds all stare.

"How thin she's gotten," they comment.
Some are concerned, others jealous.
"She's not healthy," they say.
They take your wings away, insisting you need help.

The blankets are always there, waiting. This time, they've gotten smaller and they swallow you up. As you begin to be forced to swallow as well, the blankets refuse to grow with you.
Breathing is harder than ever.

You realize there's no way to stop this cycle. The blankets will always be waiting, never relenting. The birds will never understand, always blind to the fabric encompassing your face.

There is only one way out that will last forever, never a blanket in sight.
Slash deep enough and the blankets will disappear--and so will the birds.
"I can be free," you think.

Freedom at last.

he wasn’t just an other ship that sank in my sea
he was the drought that left the whole thing empty

"I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead;
I lift my lids and all is born again.
(I think I made you up inside my head.)

The stars go waltzing out in blue and red,
And arbitrary blackness gallops in:
I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead.

I dreamed that you bewitched me into bed
And sung me moon-struck, kissed me quite insane.
(I think I made you up inside my head.)

God topples from the sky, hell's fires fade:
Exit seraphim and Satan's men:
I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead.

I fancied you'd return the way you said,
But I grow old and I forget your name.
(I think I made you up inside my head.)

I should have loved a thunderbird instead;
At least when spring comes they roar back again.
I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead.
(I think I made you up inside my head.)"

She, consisting of
he and s as in **** and shine.  

She is love and hate and frustration,
she is aggravation
she is admiration.  Is
she the complete, meaning
he is waiting to be completed, or does
she need
he to be fully
she?  It must be both, because
he does not feel whole without
she, and
she is not all
she without
he.  

She is just s waiting for he.  
He is just there waiting for
she to take a part of and be a part of.  
She and he could go on, but shall we just see
she alone?  
She is a quiet one with the hush built in.  
She makes a pucker or a sucker, and a grimace or a grin.  
She is kind to the mouth and good on the ear, soft and warm and smooth.  

She is good whiskey.  
She can get he drunk like good whiskey.  Drunk on
she,
he will stumble around running into things,
he will fall down, and
he will need help up.  
She will always be there unlike the whiskey to pick
he up to carry
he home.  
He is nothing without
she.  
He is just he waiting to be within
she.  Of course.  

He is short and childish, blunt and stubby.  
She is long and elegant, sensual and curvy.  
She rolls out of the mouth with grace,
he is shoved out with a huff and a puff.  

She is the word that makes
he be.

I tried to erase you but it was so hard
I tried again but I failed again
Were my feelings that strong?
I closed my eyes and you're all I saw
I did the opposite but tears then fell

I was in love for the first time

Love is something we cherish
we adore
we reach for
we look for
it's something we find so special that no one in the world can even answer why

I was in love for the first time
but I felt pain
rejection
loneliness
broken
And worse, worst.

Every time I look at the stars
I remember you
Every time I hear a song
I curse and cry
Every time I hear your name
I'm lost.

I would search for myself, for who I really am
And I would regret even doing so
For every time I would find Me,
I see you.

And I felt the pain all over again
and I missed you more and more
and loved you even more.

And there I was in love for the first time
That kind when all you ever feel was nothing.

Daddy's little princess such a tarred delusion in white.
Let's forget all it's only between me and you and the page tonight.
False hope's and new found delusions  let me slide this hand up that skirt .
Maybe it's wrong but what could feel more right.

You wanted to taste the edge so I took you to the razor.
embraced are sins and found new freedoms sweetheart was it as wicked as you could have ever imagined?

Maybe I'm the worst but it wasn't what you clawed into these shoulders last night.
Cheap moments wasn't it a hell of a time.
Matchbooks of places road stops of emptiness wasn't it a dream that new a nightmares embrace?

If you need a friend it wasn't in the cards but torment is truth mired by *******
can I interest you in one last fix.

Sweet nothings weren't on the menu but the passion could have burnt us both.
I hold no remorse but understand every scar holds a memory I wont bother you with that greater good speech sweetheart it's simply goodbye.

A quick slap beats a broken desire the magic was pure no matter the cancer we shared
in backseats and empty nights regression.

I recall you although I would never admit .
Every scar I treasure for sometimes your the one that I can never forget.

I'll wash it away and hopefully for you it will be something better not to have been.
**** the stories the page always makes us bleed in the end.

Paper cuts are that and nothing more.