Small talk, playful banter
Is this flirting?

Gentle touches, eye gazing
Is this intimacy?

Quick glances, endless chasing
Is this serious?

Truth is
I don't know

But I catch myself slightly smiling because of you.

Faint is the word "body"
In this little white box.

Faint are the slices
Across my wrist.

Faint are the scars
Left by my unforgiving choices.

Faint are the thoughts
That made me do it.

Faint, they are,
But not me.

I am not faint.
I am strong.

Happiness left a mark.

He sliced through my thick skin,
And the scars still remain.

Happiness was forgotten.

He was set aside,
Dust suffocating his very existence.

Happiness was fragile.

I tightly grasped Happiness’ hands,
And I watched him unravel mine and slip away.

Happiness was strong.

I thought I could take advantage,
But he was the one with his hands around my neck.

Happiness was a friend.

I came to know him inside and out,
And I looked forward to his embrace.

Happiness was an enemy.

He taunted me in ways I was unaware
And watched me collapse.

Now, I am left without Happiness, and I crave him.

My bones ache at 3am.
I glance at my phone,
Silently waiting for
The screen to illuminate.

I miss you,
But you'll never know.
I am at battle with myself.
Should I tell you or not?

You see,
To you, I'm just another
Friend.
But I say more.

Any sign from you
And I will crawl back
Into your gaze.
God, how I miss you.

I could stare into his eyes for hours.
"How funny it is," I thought as I stared into this boy's eyes.
He was once mine, but it wasn't until a year after that I noted how inviting and drawing they were, and with one gaze, it was as if I was hooked all over again.
But he was no longer mine.

His lips. His scent. The scar on his brow.
I memorized it all.

But he was no longer mine.
Walking into his room was so foreign yet so familiar.
The posters scattered on the wall,
The corners of his mouth and the way he pressed his lips against mine. They weren't mine.
But he was no longer mine.

And I loved this boy.
I didn't love him when I could call him mine.

Now, I do.
I love the way he loses himself into a song,
the way he draws his fingers against every inch of me,
the way he's so closed off,
the way he can make me feel the way I do,
But he is no longer mine.