I'll paint my face with plaster
Forget the happy ever after
I'll build up all my walls all over again
I'll keep my lips quietly shut
And never come out to be beat again
I'll rip up all my stories
Break into all your glory
But I'll hide them once again,
I'm sorry I even spoke out
I'll disappear in the fall out
So maybe we can forget this one again

“My thoughts are a sky full of rain clouds, and it never go away..”

I said while looking up. *“You see I can feel the raindrops on my cheeks..” I added.

*“My dear, the night is calm and the moon is saying hi… You’re just crying”

Jaded- is for how you left me on that street.
Obliterated- is for the way my heart broke.
Haunted- is for the way you still torment me in my dreams.
N**othing- is for what I have left.

Every future I can see still has you in it,
So why aren't you in my arms?

I could unwrap your mummified heart,
But I'm too much of a coward to know where to start,
Working myself into a replicated gentlemen,
And this time,
Ask her out without winged middlemen,

Sometimes I think I'm truly wasting my time,
I'm just an expired grandfather clock passed it prime,
So if I ever squared off with your elegance,
I'd just back off and drown in regrets and negligence,

Am I waste to you?
A *** with burnt flowers,
A darker shade of blue?
Am I just too radioactive to touch?
Am I just too closed casket faced to love?
Too jellied knuckled to trust?
I honestly think I'm just ******,

When I skip rocks,
They sink,
Down with the trash,
And so it seems,

I have nothing else to do,
But wish I could spend my life with you,

somewhere in the city there is a man bearing
a dried flower in his heart
wondering where it all went wrong.
He wonders where the words that
she spoke with such conviction,
disappeared off to.
There's another dried flower
embedded in the palm of the girl who
wrote so many poems about him
that she ran out of space on the walls of her mind
and forgot how to speak about anything but.
The same man in the city who places
that weekly order of those sunshine yellow lilies
to the apartment three yards away
for the girl that no longer cares for him,
nor his smile
nor the tender petals that she recklessly destroys with
the same hands that
used to caress the arch of his back ever so sweetly.
He wonders when the flowers will cease to grow
in the crevices of his mind
when the soft pink and green and dangerous
violet will stop poisoning his musings
and for when he can breathe
and the left of the middle
will stop incessantly aching for
the warmth of her sunshine yellow hands
around his entirety.

mental photographs are
flooding my head, i must
burn away every image of you.
when will i strike this match so i can move on.
we both know i'm not that strong.
i remember when the only
worry i had was missing the bus and making sure i was in school
before the bell had rung.
things have changed, they're
continuing to change along
with the seasons.
lonely nights, lonely days, they're
all the same anymore.
help me escape this nightmare,
i can't do it alone.

goodnight.