I have this bad habit of biting my nails whenever I'm nervous. I didn't seem to grew out of it when I was a kid. And to me that kinda **** cause you can tell straight away that I'm not doing okay, You would be there by my side calming me down telling me all this nice words just to soothe me. For as long as I can remember whenever I get nervous you would be at my side instantly.

But one day I was trembling and I looked for you but you were no near my side, I started biting my nails until one of them started to bleed, I had remembered that you were no longer by my side anymore. So I stopped biting my nails.

Why are we so quick
to refer to a story we've read
or heard,
in past tense?
As if just because we're done with it, it no longer exists

Stare at my feet--
Bite my tongue;
Habits learned when I was young.

Smile more--
Sit up taller;
Lessons taught when I was smaller.

Calm down--
Don't be so wild;
Words used to tame the child.

see a penny
don't pick it up
dried, brown leaves on pavement
avoid them all costs
pick dandelions,
but not their petals
but most importantly,
be rid of the sorry's,
if they're not genuine

I hate to say it
but you're all I need

I hate to visit
but you've become my creed

I hate to face it
but no one takes heed

I know that I should
stop

If only it could
stop

If only you weren't the only one there
like salt water in the desert
like smoke in the air
like the hurt i can't avert

you make me feel raw and bare
the only feeling alert
that my breathing is fair

I curse myself my misfortune,
Yet when it turns I bless it

I say goodbye sometimes,
Yet immediately want to turn around and talk some more

I always worry when I'm not around you,
Yet when ill befalls me and you're not there I tell you not to

Sometimes I feel like I am the worst,
Yet still manage to see the best in others

I am instinctively protective of you and my friends,
Yet all I want to do is rest my head on your shoulder and give up

I rant and rage about some people, all fire,
Yet when I actually speak to them I become ice

I always want to talk to you,
Yet unless in a babbling mood I find it hard to do so

In my mind, I picture myself as a smooth talker,
But honestly? The moment I see you I am tongue-tied

If only you knew my ironically comical habits,
That befall me when I fall for you

When you’ve had enough
Of maniacs and hustlers,
Of fakes and phonies
And smooth talking hucksters
It’s time to pull back
And sort through the weeds
To find the flowers
And see what you need.

Not what you want,
That’s something different.
If your needs aren’t met
Life can get belligerent.
You need breath and water
And some other great stuff
Or you stop living a lot
And that is rather rough.

Once we move from needs
The rest are all your wants
And you can live without them
Despite all your rowdy taunts.
How many times have you heard
I need coffee when I wake up?
That is a case of your want
That comes in a handy cup.

Or, I need to buy cigarettes
But that isn’t really true.
You don’t think you’ll die without
I mean, not really, do you?
Or, I need some ice cream now
Or a cruller or two or three.
That doesn’t sound fatal
Unless you do that daily.

So, the best thing you can do
For your one and only body
Is to try your best to keep
The thing from getting shoddy
By separating the things
That your body best deserves
And realize that ignoring wants
Does nothing but get on nerves.

With that clearing of your head
And setting of new priorities
The Big Things of the day
Turn into pesky minorities.
Suddenly you see that you
Can choose who to ignore
And then see what you need
And need for nothing more.