the smell of cigars,
the mess around us,
the arguments we start,
the feelings that makes us fall apart,
the heartbreaks we suffer,
the words we mutter,
the broken pieces we repair,
the kisses we share,
the hugs that mend us,
the insults that turn to dust,
the tears we sob,
the banks we rob,
create one
chaotic perfection,
out of us.

a cigarette on his dry lips,
he is cold, he grips
onto the lit cigarette,
imagining a person's
neck,
and he is determined
to break it.

yesterday,
i saw you,
driving your bike
through the crowded
park,
with a smile on your
enchanting face.

perhaps you were thinking about her,
and that's what made you smile.

my dad started smoking again,
but that's okay,
now we can share a cigarette
as he tells me about life being hard
and i tell him about how nobody loves me,
but then he will throw the cigarette on the ground
and hug me so tight, i'll actually
believe his lies.

that perfectly shaped bone,
i can see it right through
your tender and thin
skin,
it is visible when you
breathe and swallow
my taste,
my venom.

hostile,
and aggressive,
maybe you are
perfect for me,
darling.

electric blue eyes
of yours, blind to
reality, always
incomplete thoughts
drifting through
your messed up mind,
trying to find
some kind of way to
get out, to be
transformed into
words and music.

the moment of surprise,
hold of breath,
wandering eyes,
cloudy skies,
crowded place,
elevated space,
racing heart,
i'm fallen apart,
tight grip on your colar,
don't be so bipolar,
red lipstick kisses,
heartbroken pieces,
messy hair,
we are the perfect pair,
only when you leave me,
you will see,
why we were so reckless,
young and careless,
fooling around,
misbehaving without a sound,
our hearts wound,
unfixable,
dismissable.

you are just another person in the crowd,
you are nothing special,
the whole world does not know about you.

you are irrelevant to the others,
you are meaningless and pointless.

but the purpose of life is
to be significant,
to be known.

you don't want to be just another shining
star in the night sky,
you want to be a shooting star,
a star that you rarely see but it's beautiful
and memorable.

police are coming,
and we are high and drunk,
again, with **** in our
pockets and handcuffs on
our ****** wrists,
but i still love you.

my father warned me about
boys with black, dead hearts
but he hadn't even realized
that his deranged daughter
had become a girl with that same
kind of heart and she was scouting
for boys with nice ones, so she could
break them to pieces
and stomp on them.

but every time she tried,
she was the one who ended up
with a damaged, scratched heart
and she loathed herself for that,
the way she let herself feel even
the slightest bit of pain again.

but she coaxed herself that if she felt,
she was still human and she hasn't turned
into a emotionless, cold blooded monster,
yet.

do not get too close,
darling,
it is dark inside.

be bold
be brave
the world is being hold
by the slave
that is worn out and old
digging his own grave.

**** you left my lips
black and cold and
unwanted and drunk and
unable to kiss another
teenage boy without still
tasting you on the tip of
my tongue.

slurred lyrics from underneath
the ***** window, ready to be cleaned,
words so peacefully spoken,
that it makes your heart dance,
spinning world,
entering a different dimension
where all you can do
is sing me love songs
on your old, rusty guitar,
and all i can do is smile,
crinkle my nose and get
lost in the universe that is your mind.

i look outside the window,
and a notice snowflakes
covering the ***** ground
we walk on.

it is perfectly white,
like it should be
without any flaws.

and nobody has touched
that snow,
nobody has stepped on
that snow,
and perhaps i will be the
first.

so, please,
let me be the first one
to touch you.

last night i found out that you still hold a cigarette between your lips and i just want to smack your stupid face for not quitting,
but what hurts me even more is that you didn't offer me yours and i have been thinking of buying one pack myself and drowning myself in pity and coughed smoke/

what i hate to admit is that you look even more beautiful with a cigarette between your fingers but i refuse to go back to my old self, to the old me who loved the boy with no heart, with smoke in his lungs instead of air, the boy with charming smile, because he wasn't even real, it was a person my mind had created in hopes he would become even more beautiful than he already was/

but at least i hope you had fun on new years and i'm thankful that some girl's lips weren't pressed against yours at midnight, but i don't love you anymore, so i don't know why i even care/

but even with smoke in his mouth, i knew i wanted to kiss him and savor his taste, which i only had presumptions of-
maybe his tongue was a mixture of mint and hurricane or strawberries and sun kissed rose pedals or maybe chocolate and rain but i felt dizzy and out of place when the realization hit me that i will never find out how his lips tasted and felt against mine/

you are the thought that's etched on my wrist,
you are thought that's engraved in my mind,
you are the thought that's tattooed on my heart,
you are the thought that's occupying my brain,
and there is no escape from you baby,
i want none.

you have to step
out of your comfort zone,
so you can enjoy
life's adventures,
whether they end up
good or bad,
whether they leave
bad or good memories,
whether they give you
nightmares or sweet dreams,
you have to learn to
take risks and not
be cautious, because
if you are, you are just going
to end up living
a bored, bland, lifeless life.

over you
there are
tears, insults,
jokes and
other dumb ****
that made you
the person you are
today,
the people who
buried you
alive are in hell,
and you are dancing
with the angels
in heaven,
because you
survived
through their
insults and jokes,
the ones which
made you stronger
than ever.