Take my hand guide me through this crowded room, dance me to the end of love. and I will lead you into this beautiful dance called us . Mr. Cohen told me the future is ******, but I am trying to live into now. See the crumbling obstacles and tear them down. I was falling and I felt your hand reach out, but that is old news now. Ill take you in my arms, and embrace what life is now.

And in a blink, my perspective switched.
all we had,
all I thought we had
turned into a feeling of discomfort
and no longer love.

Your words were then stale
like the emotions you felt towards me.
I was simply a bridge
to get you to her,
your one true love.

Little did you know
I am the most unstable bridge
you could have ever walked across.

Little did you know
once I saw her perspective
I saw the real you
like she always has.

This bridge has been crumbling out from under your feet
so you better learn to carry yourself.

our bodies fit(    your breathing
lockingin2-1   .breathhhonmy
another so      neck draws (  to
p. r. e. c.      ME IN you ) ouT.
i. s. e. l. y.     Time. is /running
it’s -HARD-   out/ everysinglu
to-take-them    larbreathhh cou
a    p   a            ntsd        10
    r             t              o 9        8
) …buti                w     TicK.
ca              7                  n
               nts            6       5
ta                  4
                 y,                        3
s            o        r           2       To
   r                           cK.
          
                           1
                  y/

Tracing crumbs on my page
Moving the pencil to meet their point,
But they jump away
Afraid of fixed
Dead certainty.

Blowing them away with a breath
They fly on,
Now impossible to mistake for
The graphite kiss my pencil gives
When I accidentally place it to paper

Gone, like so many,
Crumbs of people met in life
I suppose we are all
Crumbling.

That smell
of burning skin
like the way I felt when lying
on the bathroom floor

is not the same
as the hollow places
when I take up only a fraction
of the vastness in these bedsheets

but the worst part
is that metallic taste
of bitter end
with every single breath I take

when I can't shake off
the sheets of blood
or knowledge
of what I've become.

Six years old
My pretty box
of pretty things
a little girl's collection
a pebble, a purple sequin, a lock, and a sticker, pencil leads, and a rose petal I found on the ground in the rain but I ran back to save it.
Precious things
Collections of the young will always remain a mystery to the jaded adults who grew out of simple happiness far too long ago
Then one day
My box slips off the counter
and I search desperately in the carpet for my pretty things
tearstained face and choking on sobs
not my pretty things
not my pretty things
I find my pebble
I find my purple sequin,
my lovely silver lock,
my special sticker,
all three pencil leads,
...but my rose petal
is gone
except for a couple crumbling dried pieces of it
on the ivory carpet
and the rest of it could be anywhere
I can't find it
it's gone
it's gone
my pretty, pretty rose petal that I loved so much
that I saved from the rain
...but sometimes even if you save something... or someone...
from the rain and love it for a long time, when things fall, you can lose them forever, knowing they are crumbling and not whole anymore
but you can't help them
What you save and love,
you can still lose.

Repost if you had a box of pretty things when you were little.
Comment and tell me what they were, I love to read comments :)

If Love could fall in love
Maybe She would leave us mortals be
Maybe She’d quit cursing us
If She could feel the agony
Of seeing the one you love in your mind every moment
And knowing they can’t see you
Not in the way that you view them
But you can’t let them go no matter what you do
Or if she could feel the anguish
Of loving another soul so much it hurts
And that love is why it hurts so bad being unable to forgive them
After they shove you in the filth and dirt
When someone who has passed this life
Is the only one your heart can think of
That crumbling feeling might halt Her cruel games
If Love could fall in love

If Love has hurt you before to, please repost.

My story doesn't start with,
Once Upon A Time
It starts with my kingdom
The king, the queen, and their only son
They were happy together in the castle they had
But every story starts with a tragedy
The king and queen clashed quite often
His bottles and mistress followed him home
Then he was gone, he opened the door and left
They didn't see him again after that
The queen fell into smoke and bitter liquids
Their son was forced to take charge
Things moved on slowly but the kingdom crumbled
Years past and plants took over the walls
The prince decided he'd had enough
He rebuilt his family
He build walls around his heart
Then he fell sick
He moved far from home
He held the weight of the pain on his shoulders
He cloaked himself in silence
An angel came and picked up the pieces
She brought him light
But he crumbled within slowly
His heart burning with the rhythm of a drum
It's true what they say
Happily ever afters really are only in books
That boy is me and the queen is my mother
The rancid hearted king was my father
So long and goodnight