The deepest cut
is the first
then the one that follows
I find that I am tired
as my essence puddles out
crimson tears form in the well
and become a weeping waterfall
of wasted life and battered choices
I want to take it back---
but the redness of me,
breaks free
seeking to be exposed to the outside
and remain uncaged from weakness.

I don't  want to be used
I want to be loved
I don't want to be your moon
When the Sun is not around!

Have you ever stumbled upon a flower,
       next to her, you were seated;
       a gaze you never gave,
       and time passed by just like that.
She didn't bloom as you expected her to be,
       shining under the sun's rays,
       a bud that didn't open -- yet
       existing yet not appealing -- she was just about to bloom.
Have you ever stumbled upon a flower,
       as the sun was setting, you stood up;
       "please wait," she was begging
       yet you never loved her so you left.
The shy flower, yes it's tiny
       no one would pick her, no one was there;
       twenty feet, her perfume travelled;
       it was her time to flourish at night.
You never loved that flower,
       neither picked her petals nor sniffed its scent;
       she ended up saying "I love you,"
       with lost worth, is she the unlucky one?

She was a tender perennial, you unlucky one.

Must be nice

to pick and choose
when Im worthy enough

to be a part of your life


Too bad
Im not an option

You can't always speak.

It's tiring,
to say the same spiel all the time,
lying isn't much better,
but the truth isn't an option.

It would hurt,
and we're already miles apart from where we began,
and I don't want to live without you in my life.

So sometimes I can't.

Please,
let's just sit here in silence a little longer.

So I can choke down the misery,
and smile for you.

Like a friend,
instead of someone who so hopelessly adores you.