flawed, like a broken vase
beautiful, like the golden cracks on her face
spoiled, like her flowers left to die
forgotten, like just another moment lost in time

You once had a blossoming rosebush.
Lush with periwinkle peonies, baby blue baby's-breath, crimson carnations.
You plucked a flower for me, a rose so beautifully breathtaking which you compared to my own flawed features in the most poetic prose.
I graciously accepted your gorgeous gift, careful that my fingers wouldn't graze the thorns which adorned the deep green stem.
I held it close, embracing your token of affection with a pounding heart full of humbly hesitant adoration.
But I picked apart the pieces, I skeptically played with the pretty petals. I analyzed their cajoling strokes of coaxing color until the flower wilted warily.
And when I asked you for another, your face flushed and your truth trembled.
You led me to your rosebush, which was now an utterly dull disappointment.
For I saw then that you had wasted away all of the flowers on girls just like me, destroying the beauty which had once flourished in that tempting rosebush, and now you had no more love to give me.

Im standing on the edge.

A fifty-foot drop has never looked so appetizing.

 I want to step forward and take a bite.

I see the asphalt below as candy, and i my sweet tooth is aching.

 Im being held back by what little support i have left.

They tell me taking that first step has no return, that it will ruin my figure, that there is no plastic surgeon that can fix the mistakes i would make.

The cravings are pulling me in, i need a taste of the sweet release.

I cant get it off my mind.

I was speeding on the drive to the top of the cliff.

Every tree looked like a silencer to the voices in my head.

The street signs are my goodbye notes.

and the ground fifty feet below, is the beginning of the end.

Thank you, im sorry. Sincerely the forgotten.

with you,
i was constantly looking over my shoulder,
waiting for you
to catch up on our love.

I clutched at my knees
the beats before her voice
ramming into me repeatedly

The noises in my mind
Too bright, too abrupt
an incoherent strum of notes

I never should have
given you anything
memories dangling in your fist