There is a point in some lives
when those living it
must accept that the
hope and the dream
which drove it
will only ever
be that;
a hope
and
a
dream.

I stopped sleeping
a long time ago.
Rest is restless,
Dreams are nightmares.

When I bolt awake
in the middle of night,
Not a soul is there to
comfort my screaming mind.

I'm tired of this.
Tired of staying awake,
Tired of fearing sleep,
I've tired of this life.

Time heals all wounds
But I don't ever want to be
Healed from you

I want your wounds
Deep in my flesh
Your name on my breath
Your hands in my dreams
And your face in my nightmares
I'd rather be haunted by you
Than forget you
Rather live in sweet agony
Remembering trembling
And shallow breathing
Yearning and hopelessness
Home in your arms
I'd rather die a thousand times
Than forget this

some
    people
          throw
             around
                 words,
                      that
                          others
                               consider
                        ­             precious...