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Every night I lay in bed wondering how you are
I’ve never felt so close to anyone yet so far
I’ve stopped smoking and I think a lot now
I’d tell you it’s hard if you ever asked how
But we don’t speak
And we don’t text
Plus we don’t met
Because of ur ex
Every time we see each other it feels hard
But more accurately I do
You bend over and I see everything
I can’t help but begin reminiscing
How could I let you go so easily
Because making broad statements isn’t me
I can’t even keep to a strict rhythmic structure
I’m so lame and my brain is about to rupture
It’s like every step takes me further from you
But closer to my dreams so it’s what I’ll do
I’ve decided to write away and never overthink
Because then you’ll remain stuck on the brink
Unable to fall off completely
Because you complete me
And I’m so uncontrollably obsessed with you.

But let’s be honest.. You don’t exist.
 Jan 2016 Sumina Thapaliya
bbdyo
you
 Jan 2016 Sumina Thapaliya
bbdyo
you
i was fine all by myself
it has always been true
but things have changed
when i met you
grind down smoke
and crusts of bread
into the bodies of hammered metal circles
and you will find
no solace has ever been
enough
666
I am lost.
Why did we leave that time?
How your eyes
Flickered like fire and met mine.
A glorious passion
Fused in with the stars above us.

I am lost.
Our wishes manumitted.
How did we loose the freedom?
Our fears forgotten for the simple quest
Of being ourselves.
Separate,
As one.

When did we get to this point?
Where we traded our love
For the better half of perception.
We
Were wrong.
Naturally we fixed ourselves to the static views.

Yet I still remember,
How you took my hand.
You whispered that the
Gods won't mind.

Those days,
Those pictures I see
Flashing electric,
Plug the gears of reality and leave me
Frozen in want for the time
When I never knew you
And I never knew myself.
I'm sorry you can't trust me
And won't ever let me in
I'm sorry you don't believe in me
And that I could not win

I'm sorry for not being perfect
And being able to break your fears
I'm sorry for messing up
And causing all your tears

I'm sorry I can't fix it
And make you want to stay
I'm sorry I wasn't good enough
And now I have to pay

I'm sorry I ever doubted it
And made you second guess
I'm sorry I was so stupid
You haven't seen my best
 
So let me show you
You can even give me a test
If you give me this last chance
I will show you that I'm your best match
To a special someone that I truly messed up with I'm sorry
 Jan 2016 Sumina Thapaliya
broken
They tell me to write how I feel but all I can think about are all the memories swirling in my head like an outburst of an addict just waiting to happen. And maybe I am an addict. But instead of shooting heroine in dimly lit basements with boys who don't give a **** or doing **** in an abandoned farmhouse off of highway 54 with the greased up girls from the stop and shop corner, I'm addicted to something so much more dangerous. Because instead of costing money or teeth or my mental capabilities, it costs the spirit of my soul. I'm addicted to spending rainy Thursday twilights tossing and turning restlessly under my laced flower covers thinking about how many lips your lips have touched since that far away time when you actually cared about me. I'm addicted to letting my eyes wander over old journal entries from back when this all began, letting myself imagine every picture perfect feature of the devastating war that ravaged my heart. I'm addicted to spending hours mouthing all of the poisoned syllables you breathed into my lungs before every letter and feeling burnt up into flames of gasoline. Before all of those silly, stupid ashes clogged up my throat just enough to silence the sobs of missing you. I'm addicted to driving down that road you took me on, just so I can pretend for a single second that things are almost the same and when my heart stops in a worn down, useless church pew or lying in a sterile, old hospital bed, my parents will shout drugs or stress, and my best friend will cry ***** or pills or a drunken suicide haze. But the doctor will come into the room with his fake empathetic eyes and his white coat pockets full of greed-earned money, and he will say in his calmest, most detached voice, that I, was an addict. And I, was addicted,
                          to you.
 Jan 2016 Sumina Thapaliya
Samual
XXII.
because you spent years discovering different agonies and you've decided the worst is the constant the unchanging the one that has no end and no result because you can't escape

XXIII.
because deep down you know this is self care this sleeping this hiding this crying this writing because even if it hurts it's a change

XXIV.
because you thought you were invalid for even at your worst you couldn't help but think about getting better so maybe that wasn't the worst but you know now you always just thought of change be it good or bad

XXV.
because you really honestly truly and surely don't believe you can make the right decision about getting better or worse without help

XXVI.
because you haven't gotten better yet and that would be a change but you also haven't gotten to rock bottom yet and that would be a change

XXVI.
because you have to make a decision now
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