The room around is opaque
But there is no Raven to be seen
Only the monstrosities that disfigure in the light.
A butterfly contorts into a moth and we are one in the same-
The whispering in the night seems to turn me inside out.
Lighting strikes
Because thunder
Isn't getting
The point
Across.
Goosebumps and bruises and scars.
This skin that needs to shed.
Like drug store perfume, it fades away
And before you know it, you're clean.
You're clean and you're ripe and you're pure.
And before you know it you're still sitting in the same corner
Begging yourself to cry wolf.

how does one talks of death so casually

how do you tell someone you tried to end your life as if it's a cake walk

How do you tell the story of almost jumping off a cliff like it's somebody else's story to tell

How dare you tease gravity like that.

One step forward, never come back.

Rolling rolling rolling down my cheeks

I can't help it that you talk of death so bleak.

You're punching clocks and he's punching walls because he doesn't understand what you're trying to say. Are you crazy? Boys don't speak metaphor, baby.

He's playing ****** knuckles and you're speaking 10 different languages trying to explain how much you love him without saying it pointblank.

I'm scraping my knees begging you to understand and the only thing you can muster is, "are you okay?" You're putting band-aids on wounds I was never planning on trying to heal. I'm pouring my heart out and you're too busy getting towels to clean up the spill to even notice what I'm saying.

My words hit your ears like fists against cement and I can't keep giving you everything just to watch you break it all in front of me.

I want you to know how it feels to be the shattered glass instead of the hand that drops it.

I want you know how it feels to be a rooftop instead of the nails that bolt it down.

And more than anything I want you to know how it feels to be someone I could never love.

I do not know how to put this much hurt into words but im going to try.

Loving you is like a reflex.

It's like im screaming I love you I love you I love you and by the time im finished I realize it didn't even hurt that bad and all im left with is a sore throat and a bad taste in my mouth.

I feel like all you're ever doing is whispering.

Stop telling me you love me when the world goes silent

Stop telling me you love me with your hands pressed against my skin

STOP TELLING ME YOU LOVE ME IN HAND GESTURES AND HIEROGLYPHICS WHEN I DESERVE SOMEONE WHO WOULD SHOUT HOW MUCH HE LOVED ME AT THE PEAK OF THE HIGHEST MOUNTAIN FOR EVERYONE IN THE WORLD TO HEAR

I am tired of hearing you speak to me in symphonies and blanking out on stage.

I am tired of only being spoken to in body language and im tired of hearing you say sorry like it's my name.

What im trying to say is if practice makes perfect then how come you only ever love me with the lights off?

Im empty past the point of trying to write metaphorical ******* about it and there is an ache inside of my chest that I can't feel anymore but I know it's still there. There's a hole inside of my heart and its permanently reserved for everything I never got to say to you. It's weird how emptiness is so filling. How you can be completely full of nothing and hear the silence so loudly in your head that your ears start to bleed. Im tired of not knowing your favorite color and I'm tired of you not being able to tell me. Im tired of writing you words you will never be able to read and I'm tired of feeling your last breath in every one I take.I guess what I'm trying to say is I am tired of everything but you and you're the only thing I can't have.

They always compare love to a burning fire
And say, " you ignited my heart into flames"
But you were the frozen furnace
The ancient stove that no one ever bothered to heat up
You were cold down to the core and I had electrical heat running through my veins
And everytime I touched you you gave me frostbite
I tried so hard but you were too numb
And sooner or later,
I ran out of match sticks to keep this pathetic excuse of a fire alive
Because I was the forest fire and your were the water that drowned me

My second love was the darkness
And I fell for it,
Hard.
In fact, I had an affair with darkness when I was still debating how much I cared for the light(not enough).
But we didn't become serious until a couples of months ago.
We spent two weeks straight together.
And even in the light, it would find me.
Sometimes whispering in my ears while in crowds of people, asking me if we could leave and go home already.
darkness was the only one there for me.
But it was not a shoulder to cry on, no.
It was the shoulder to my ribs that made me cry because of how ******* hollow it is in there.
Darkness taught me much more than a school teacher ever could. It must've been the way it pulled me underneath like a current dragging a body down do the sea floor. How at some point, I knew It was time to stop fighting my lungs and just stop heaving so **** hard. I couldn't get my mind off of it, it was my new distraction, the thing to think of during lectures and useless talk going on around me. It showed me how to be afraid of the light, to only talk when I must. And that if I shut off the light, maybe no one will notice the lack of sleep i carry with me under my eyes and the lump in my throat when I hear joy being vomited out of everyone's mouths like a disease going around the room that I'm immune to. Darkness was the lover that made me forget why I was still breathing. Darkness was the anchor weighing me down and the thing that made my vocal cords stop working properly, like their was water stuck in my throat and I couldn't speak my mind without causing a flood to **** up everyone else's day. Darkness made me think this way. It had me believing i wasn't meant to be the girl I was.. Had me second guessing the right time to speak.. Left me with no words to all the ones floating around my ears in conversations I stopped involving myself in. But I have finally awoken from the grasp darkness had held on me for so long, and I am now blinded by the light in the best way possible.

You’re like my old favorite book,
The first book I ever picked up.
I liked this book because it was easy to read,
But funny in my opinion,
Since it really had no words.
Not that you weren’t complex, interesting, and what not.
It’s just that I only called you my favorite,
Because you were the first book
I ever picked up.
You caught my attention,
And I caught yours.
But I grew smarter and got into chapter books.
They were long,
But worth the read.
And after almost every book I read,
I felt that they deserved the title of
“My favorite book.”
But please don’t take offense,
You’ll always have a special place on my shelf.
I just really love to read.

She writes countless poems about a boy who will never care again, who slipped right through her fingers and can't bare to look her in the eye anymore. He's in love and she wants to be happy that he is, but his laughter is the fuel that kept her happiness going. She craves his big goofy smile to reappear into her life but he hates her down to the bone, All the way to the core of her messy heart. And I can't stand the fact that were apart, I want you back in my life and I want you to know that I care about you so much but honestly you don't care and I just wish the fact that I could once make you laugh would be enough to make you come back...

I miss you today
I miss you tomorrow
I miss you yesterday
I miss you next week
I miss you when you're standing five feet away from me
I miss you when you're out of town
I miss you at night
I miss you in the daylight
I miss you when I see you
I miss you when my eyes are closed
I miss you when I cry
I miss you, so I cry
I miss you at school
I miss you at home
I miss you when I'm all alone
I miss you in the crowd
I miss you all at once
I miss you in bits and pieces
I miss you in my mind
I miss you in my soul
I miss you in my heart
I miss you in my arms
I miss you and your laughter
I miss you and your smile
I miss you when I'm dreaming,
I've missed you for a while.

Your first love never goes away.
You can't decide if it's a burden of a bee or the welcoming of a butterfly.
In your heart, mind, body, and soul- he does not grow, he stays the way you felt one day he was as a perfect piece of human art. Before all the messy *******, before he became literature in your ******* hands that you didn't know what to do with and now it's all a little too familiar. Your mind starts drifting on a boat that has long gone sailed away.
You're laying next to someone now and this realization has just abruptly struck you in the eyes. Your mind, a deep abyss of imagination and hidden secrets and memories too important to share with anyone but the once significant other. But the one you can hear breathing at an off beat rhythm to the inhale- exhale of your own, he's maybe your 2nd, 3rd, or 8th. I guess you had a lot of time on your hands. New hands held yours but you knew they could never compare to the feel of the first person to grasp your hands and take you by surprise with a gift of three words wrapped up in lies. Yes, lies. You're thinking now, your eyes are opened but you didn't realize it, and you feel the adrenaline rush of an imaginable touch, but a more than realistic feel. You feel that you're committing a hopeless crime. That you have no control over the thoughts that swarm and sting the inside of your head. To stop the thoughts would be out of your reach and would result in a flash flood warning from the faucet in your lower lids. And you feel like you may have just committed a ******. A triple homicide, if you will. Your heart was asking for it and your head was begging. But what the **** did your hands ever do? Is to touch him in your dreams such a ****** thing to do? Is to love a long lost friend such a sin that only you could do? you stay completely and willingly at war with yourself, wondering if your multiple choice questions will forever go unanswered. Are you stupid? Is there an obvious choice between secure and edgey? You mustn't have read the question correctly, no. I guess you just signed up for the wrong class. One thing you'll never seem to exterminate is the thump of your heart, head, and body as you reminisce on that particular , meaningful kiss. The last the last the last. You never knew it'd be the last. You thought it'd all work out soon enough but now you're laying in a bed next to a ******* stranger. He is foreign to a love like your first. Goodnight, sweet dreams to the devil and angel that live amongst my shoulders

I fell in love with your voice,
The voice that sugar coated the words of a liar,
The voice that made broken promises whole again,
And the voice that spoke the harsh goodbye that pierced into my flesh like a magnum bullet.

Seven devils split among the two of us;
My envy of the angels you sought to be in touch with
The first “I love you” flattering your pride
My lust for your touch as you were in disguise
As a hopeless boy in love
Your sloth in the duration of us
After you finally had me
In the palms of your hands
Your wrath you threw at me
Out of loving you a little too much
My greed of wanting nothing but you
And for you to feel the same
And your gluttony in swallowing my heart
Without caring how it tasted or when it would stop beating for you;
Never.
But seven cannot be split between two equally
And as always
You end up with more than me
But I still envy that your heart was barely bruised
And mine has battle wounds