I am artfully crafted yet with a fragile heart.
Be careful with your words and actions,
It might bleed me and cause me deepest pain.
Please take good care of me. Please.

If you're going to be immortal,
what point is there to anything?

If you're going to live forever,
then there is no beauty in experiences.
There is no need to do anything
or to not do anything.

You can do something ridiculously stupid,
can ***** up everything,
but it will never matter.
In the end you won't matter.

You will exist on,
long after the record of anything
you messed up has crumbled to dust.

So, what's the point of living forever?

Why be immortal?

There is such beauty in the fragility of mortality.

There is such beauty in how
those under the boot of mortality can be so fragile,
yet shine so bright.

They glow to light life itself,
and, yes, the do burn out,
but they lived.

You, on the other hand, will endure.

You will exist.

You will never truly live because you'll never die.

First touch.
So tender with intensity.
First kiss.
So gently your lips are
diliciously.
Our souls so fragility.
We will always have
beautiful memories.
I will never regret.
The day we first met.
I still can see it so visually.
You haunt my mind recently.
I have no control to think
so explicity about your loving me.
Just know that sometimes
all love must flow.
If you can't hold on to it.
You have to let it go.

I do not
think that I
was meant
to break away

For now
My thoughts are scattered
and
shattered
like shards of
glass

I
do not know when
I will find
a light
or a hope
for me
in this darkness
that drowns
me

I do not
think that I
was meant
to break away

For now I
cannot sleep
I have
no
identity

I am
broken
and forgotten
crushed underfoot
by the
masses
like
shattered glass

Glass wasn't made to shatter;
Paper wasn't made to tear.
Fragmentation is a side effect of carelessness, not of life–
Not of love.
A rose is not meant to be crushed, pulled apart petal by petal, simply because it is soft.
The doe, graceful and wide-eyed, was not created to die at the hands of a man indistinguishable from a snake in the grass.
The monarch does not flutter with lithe wings to be caught, classified, and pinned to a page,
Nor do the leaves change hue, turn crisp, and fall to be crushed beneath an entitled foot.
I do not paint my eyes so that you can watch me bleed black and gold down my cheeks,
Nor do I wear my heart on my sleeve so that you can rip it apart valve by valve.
I am not your window pane, nor your blank page; your willow tree, nor your frozen stream.
I am the rabbit sleeping deep in her borough; I am the bluebird flitting between trees.
I may be fragile, but that doesn't give you permission to break me.

If I told you

My past

Would you run and hide?

People tell me to wait

But, now I think it's your time to decide

Will you understand my struggles?

Probably not, I fear,

Those piercing thoughts that ******* me

When I'm standing before a mirror

I also fear

My fragility

The delicateness of my mental state

For if this goes much further

And I reveal my true state,

It's better for you to run now

Than wade too deep, then escape.

I can't say goodbye to the fact that you saved me. That you understood me, the fragility of my heart, and the broken glass of my thoughts. You were always my first choice. You're my strings of lights that's guiding me home. You made me forget the world. There were so many things that you have done for me, that I can't thank you enough for. I'm still living because of you. Please do not feel guilty for my actions, and yours. Time and life happened. We were just meant for those five years, no more and no less.