You are my doom, a Laura reincarnate,

and I Petrarch, bound to you by fate.

I'd pray for salvation, but whom to implore?

You? Or a deity I believe in no more?

.

You lurk, uninvited, in the corners of my mind,

the edges of consciousness, never hard to find.

Invading my thoughts – it's not very kind,

it is a death sentence, that I myself have signed;

Because I made no attempt to dispel such a thought,

visions of you, my heart blindly sought.

.

You are my drug, and recovery I shun,

I've tried rehab, but addiction has won.

You wouldn't ask Earth to give up the Sun,

or a bullet to fly without a gun.

So, trying to quit – with that I am done,

After countless failed attempts to run.

.

You are my sorrow, but these lines ease the pain,

as burns and bruises hurt less in the rain.

I turn my heartache into verse, and time slows,

as bittersweet loneliness into words flows.

I drain myself of the pain, I keep it at bay,

however, it never completely goes away.

.

In these poems, it is you I address,

but I wouldn't ever let you see this mess;

I write so this torture would hurt a little less,

as, repeatedly and fruitlessly, my love I confess.

So, these lines will never ever go to press,

as you won't hear my lips whisper: "S".

You have me reduced to dust again;

signed my death sentence with an invisible pen.

Why were you there? I wasn't prepared

to pretend I'm cool and that I never cared.


Surprise attack: you called my name,

from behind my back, suddenly you came.

Your lips are moving, but my mind is one-track,

I was getting over you, why are you back?

But you have no clue - do you, my dear? -

Just what you do to me whenever you're near.

I maintain a facade of smalltalk mundane,

smile to you brightly to stifle the pain.

You're mildly bored, looking over your shoulder,

Polite yet detached, like ice, but colder.

An ice sickle stabbing into my heart,

cruelly careless, as I fall apart.

Then she calls you over - you have to go -

there are more people to which to say hello.

Who is she? I dare not ask,

Barely maintaining a carefree mask.

I have no right; like a homeless vagabond,

I bid you goodnight, as you go beyond

my sight, trailing a red-stringed bond.

Why am I embarrassed to help myself?
No wonder people stay ill,
When the world cringes at positivity.
Positivity makes my toes curl.
Positivity makes my face snarl.
Remind myself to breathe,
I can feel you laughing down my neck.
Can’t handle my problems,
Without mocking myself,
At every self care measure I take.
You ruined my integrity.
I hate what you’ve done to me.

im not suicidal
but the pen stabs me every time
a little bit of blood creates a poem

im not surrounded by enemies only
but the enemies stab me every time
i don't bleed then, i only cry
a little bit of tears create a poem
poems stronger than through blood
poems strengthened by sadness

It's me, can't you feel,
I love  you but I make you scream,
You won't die as long as I'm here.

You won't die,
but you'll never really live.

Can't you feel the shiver,
the paralyzing fear,
That makes you a useless ****,
Whenever I am here,

I will shroud you,
I will give
You will not die,
You'll never live.

I don't even remember why I was embarrassed!
She thought right as she accidentally reminded herself
why she was embarrassed.