my love, you are the definition of *heartbreak
youre laying right next to me and to be honest, i could get a buzz just off of your breath. but i couldn't care less. you want me, and thats all i could ever ask for.
i had come to the conclusion that you only kissed me while you were drunk so you could blame it on the alcohol or say you didn't remember because you had these hidden feelings for me,
but now im thinking you only kiss me when youre drunk, because youre drunk.
do you believe poems possess the power to explain pure passionate pain?
i think thats what all writers hope to achieve.
showing someone their pain.
having someone read the words that they have collected on paper and organized into a structure that is somewhat sentence like and them by the last word, having a tear drop running down their face, much like how you would like to run away from those words on the paper.
having them look at you with that all too familiar glint in their eyes, and finally understanding just what the fibers of your being are composed of.
them understanding that your body wishes to die, but you are keeping yourself alive with the smallest pleasures, such as that smile you receive every day in 3rd period.
tell me, what would you do if they looked at you and said, '******* it, im going to save you'
so until then, countless papers will be crumbled and thrown away, eraser shavings will cover my desk, and my eyes will go blurry from the tears begging to escape like my words do on the page.
but i will hold those too, until the day someone finally comes to clear my plate.
im so tired of being tired. i remember the time when breathing was so effortless and normal, and now it hurts with every inhale and exhale i take
you were my oxygen
you asked me why i overlooked your flaws, and at the time i said it was because i was in love with you, and now i wonder if i did it because it was a necessity in order to keep breathing
i call it intoxicating poison and you call it the pain killer of the night
i call it cancer rolling off your lips, and you call it the taste of rebellion
you and i are so different, but we couldn't be more alike
because i like the taste of intoxicating poison and how the cancer feels going from your tongue to mine
im sorry that i didn't put you down.
im sorry that you were the most beautiful flower that id ever seen and im sorry that i got attached.
the moment that i picked you i realized it was a mistake,
because you, just like any other picked flower, began to wilt and die
and now im stuck so in love with what was once a beautiful flower and that is now only wilted petals because i had not yet learned to admire from a distance
i yearn for the sunlight to touch my scars because it feels like the darkness that created them disappears
see, now im sure you're thinking
let the sunlight seep into your scars
youll be alright
but the thing is
my sunshine lies within fingertips
that can no longer be reached