Because I don't have you in my arms
The nights pass slow.

But you are the soul of my nights
Its darkness is my foe.
And remembered images
Are dismembered, like shredded pages.

But my days are full of joy.
They give me the strength
That the darkness can't defy.

And I have never held your hand - nor you mine.
Though I brushed your cheek - one time.

Yet your glance
Makes my heart dance,
My stomach churn, in giddy turn,

And this tightness in my throat,
Inspires this simple poet.

Yet these feelings frighten me,
I fear to lose your friendship.
I fear the loss of the light
That you have shed on my dark places.

For you have made me what I will become.
And because I don't have you in my arms
The nights pass slow.

I daydream constantly
because reality hurts.
I keep my eyes closed
because when I open them
I see everything I'll never achieve.
I keep my head up in space
because there, even in death there is beauty
but down here death is ugly,
as with each passing day.
.
I lock myself in my room
because the world is a horrible place.
I turn off the light-
because even this room shows humanity's true nature
I dare not look back at that mirror,
for even in the faintest of moonlight I can make out
the monster that stands in my place.
.
I spend each day in misery, because that is how I learned to be happy.
Happy hurts,
Happy is quick,
Like fleeting love
I hate the feeling
of losing something so quick.
I block it out.
I fill my aching body with unused, dusty tears.
I hear my body groan under the pressure but I do not let it out.
I do not let the misery out,
because then Happy will have a chance to seep through
but with Happy comes horror and sorrow
and other such I cannot bear.
Happy hurts more than this depression ever could,
so I've decided to be nothing but that.
I hold up each day in a wicked,
painful misery,
while others might say it unhealthy
I feel it as nothing but fuel,
nothing but quick snaps of the whip
that keep me going,
just barely alive,
hardly breathing,
stiff like a tin-man
-
I hide from what's real,
I hide from what's happy,
because Misery is the only thing keeping me here.

The rain is tapping on the roof top, a soft breeze whistles through the cracked window. I've lost my mind, lying on the floor, floating, leaving this place. No one seems to notice what my eyes are whispering. Shades of green, bursts of red, and spots of brown, colors to hover the window to my soul. I've lost my mind. I can hear the cries of all the people in the house. The spirits of them all, slowly sinking, drowning in the sea. I wish someone could see, see the truth within me. It's not beautiful, nor bright, but dark and glum. I should hide the grotesque brokenness. I suppose I have this down, no one knows. I lost my mind. The carpet beneath me is starting to brush harshly upon my skin. I toss, I turn and the thunder strikes. I can taste the salt, it burns my eyes and dries my skin. Have I told you, I lost my mind.

I know a girl who tries to read people the way she reads books.
But people aren't two dimensional, and they can't be pressed into
page after page of dialogue and action. Black and white stand as a
testimony to truth, but reality comes in a variety of shades and
when her blood comes out red and sings a tune sweeter than any book
or bible written by man, she is left somewhere between fiction and non-fiction.
The badlands of indecision, where her beliefs search for a home built on rock
instead on the sand.

savage, heart
so hurt
and empty
blackened pools of
pain, not envy
given into sleepless nights,
and pain-filled days,
where nothing's real,
where nothing's right.

this is the way it is,
the way it seems to
be
now i peer into a
dusty mirror
seeing little left of me.