not that this bothers me,
the shades of your silliness.
the presence, my dear.
because if it did then,
i would’ve ceased
at delivering these words.
admittedly then, the silly person,
i suppose, must be me.

You entered my soul
and pierced my heart
making me beg for your love
for ages now
desperate I must seem
hopeless my friends say
but I know no ther way
than loving you

And I've seen what that kind of love can do to people. I've seen it shred their insides apart , I've seen it set fire to eyes once calmed of storms.

I've seen that kind of love make people blind to what's right in front of them. To the idea that maybe they're , the only ones , who think happiness can be bottled up and kept for the rainy days.

It's agonizing. Really.

Watching someone become so consumed by a feeling that it takes away the common sense it takes to notice that things aren't right.
That kind of love , it chews you up , spits you out , and gargles just to be sure the very last taste of you is gone.

That kind of love.

The kind of love that isn't ready to meet you on the bridge but fools you into jumping off the edge with your eyes closed.

That kind of love.
The kind of love everyone should be afraid of.

Experience is a funny thing,
Most times in a way that doesn't
Make you laugh.*

I've put on my mask before,
Many times over the years.
You can't help but be upset,
So let me see the tears.

If your words say you're fine,
Then why don't your eyes say the same?
Don't lie to me, I invented that look
But you're not the one to blame.

Don't tell yourself you're ok
When you know that's not the truth.
You think you're fooling everyone when
All you fool is you.

It's not "being strong" that makes it better,
Whatever that even means.
It's by accepting you're upset and hurt;
That you're just a human being.

You *want love? You are loved.
An open heart? Into mine you can pour.
I'd rather see my heart get destroyed than
You hopelessly giving up yours.

Feel your feelings,
Let those demons out.
'Cause when they're locked up
They too scream and shout.

You're beautiful when you cry,
As with everything you do.
When beads of tears roll down your face
I see the beautiful in you.

Does she hold you like I used to?
When you were too scared to
pick your head up from my shoulder?

Does she hum to you at night like I used to?
When your mind was too restless
to allow you to close your eyes?

Does she make you laugh like I used to?
When you'd stop only because you felt
like your stomach was on fire?

Does she make you feel bothered like I used to?
Does she make you feel mad like I used to?
Does she make you want to scream like I used to?

Was I ever even enough for you?
Will she ever even be enough for you?
Will she write one of these poems four years from now like I am?
Will she wonder what she ever did to deserve the hurt you caused?
Will she prevail? Will she crumble?

I'm still trying to figure out which one I'm doing.
You have made my life confusing.

Will I ever feel comfortable holding someone again?
Will I ever hum to another late at night?
Will I ever tell a joke just to hear another laugh?
Will they ever make me feel like you did?

Will she wonder the same things four years from now?
Will she think about me then?
She took what was mine
and in the end I wouldn't
be surprised if someone
took what she though
was hers.