I cry for all the nights I spent without you
The nights I missed you, still linger deep within my heart.
Even now, it feels as if you’re still gone sometimes.
But don’t worry I’m fine
It’s all just tricks in my mind.
I suppose we both learn things
As we make our paths in time.

I just hate to say that I’ve missed
Any hours with you
That I was absent for the moments
In which you needed arms around you.

That you were ever not okay
That your knees trembled to the ground
That you were ever sad
And I was nowhere to be found.

I’ve let not only you, but myself down.

It’s my cross to bear, what happened
I’ll wear it with sadness and shame
And carry it through the dark, quiet night
Or through the thunderous pouring rain.

Until the day, sunshine breaks way
And I can forget all that happened yesterday
Until I can look in your eyes
And not let guilt break my gaze

Until you believe that I am willing to fight
For you, for us, for everything
Until my dying day.

I love you.
And that, is here to stay.

Flopping is,
Better than flipping out
over NOTHING.

I. The sad ones..
II.Poems about despair..
III.The loneliness..
IV.The sharp and dull cutting of depression..

I. I smile when I am with you. We are not the sad ones but the happy ones through and through..

II. I can write about how despair wants in on our peace.. How hopelessness is trying to break through our little army of hope.. But in the end and always trying to begin our little army prevails everytime.

III. The loneliness is simply lonely. All the time. Simply because if you are not with me you're still by my side.. Loneliness tries and sends isolation toward us.  But is greeted by our friendship and companionship..  Those two form an equation that when worked out over a long period of time equals to Love..

IV.  Depression waves around its sharp sword and tries to stab with its dull knife.  The sword is poison with regret. And the knifes handle is made out of worthlessness.. But regret is but a frame in our mind.  The now and forward create a new canvas that we can paint over all of the regrets.  We can always create instead of destroy.  Make things more grand and full of joy.  The worthlessness simply fades away because of your smile.  Thats all I needed. We paint on each other smiles on our faces everyday.. And its all worth it! Because you are worth it all!

Through the lens of a camera, everything appears far away. It's easy to feel nothing when you designate yourself a spectator.
My girlfriend was a spectator. All the time, she was carrying a camera in her delicate, pale hands. My mother had a name for delicate and thin hands: "artist fingers." My girlfriend used to call herself an artist.
~
"Mom, do you think Rebecca is a good girlfriend to me?"
My mother looked at me. Her glasses reflected the light from the living room lamp. I couldn't see her eyes. I was petting my cat while I spoke to her, and as I looked at my mother, my grip tightened. She opened her mouth to speak.
~
My girlfriend broke up with me via a Skype call. I watched her through the camera. She didn't look at me. Our relationship lasted a year and a half. I sobbed. She didn't look at the camera. It's easy to be a spectator. It's easy to not look at anything.
~
"Elyse?"
I raised my eyes.
My best friend was watching me. "Can you move your leg a little?"
Once I did, he lifted his camera. He took some pictures of me.
"Vincent... can I talk to you about something?"
He paused, and then lowered the camera.
"I had a fight with Rebecca."
Something in his eyes changed. If you hadn't been paying attention, you would have missed it.
"Again?"
~
January. "She said bad things about you."
My heart beat a little harder. My lungs hurt.
"I don't care."
I didn't look at him.
~
We were lying side by side. I looked at her. I had given her a necklace of guitar picks. It rested on her collarbones.
Suddenly, I said, "If we break up, promise me you're not going to throw away the necklace."
She looked at me. She had blue and green eyes, so beautiful. My mother often said that she had striking eyes.
"I promise."
~
I remember how, during our dates, she used to take pictures of the sky. I found it cute.
Vincent always thought that it was cliché.
~
My psychologist was watching me. "I'm not judging you."
I was silent. I looked at my fingers. Thin. Fine. I was an artist too. But she was the artist.
"How can you know that I'm not judging you if you don't look at me?"
A moment. She leaned back in the chair. Another moment. I remember that I could hear the ticking of her clock.
It came quietly. "Sorry."
~
I was at a party, talking with a pretty girl. The noise of the party seemed muted, somehow. Suddenly, she took one of my hands.
"I like your hands. You have such beautiful fingers."
She looked at me.
"Like an artist."
I looked at her. She had brown eyes, like dark chocolate. Striking. She was smiling just a little bit. If you hadn't been paying attention, you would have missed it. I laughed.
"Like an artist..." I repeated.
She laughed too, a little embarrassed. Her laugh was joyous, almost musical.
I smiled.