We shared a pain,
                                   cracks spreading over both our porcelain faces.
                             If i told you,
            would the fissures begin to fade?
Would you feel loved?

                                                         ­                        (or would you hide away?)
                                                      Coul­d we talk at night?
                                     As the chasm we both feel begins to gape,
         as our hearts ache and the distractions fade?

(or would you hate me?)

Deteriorated configurations that are
neither of consecutive methods
                                             or contorted reflections,
it's upon the eye line of those who look perplexed.

For what is slumped like tired unimportance,
is neither an inflexible road,
for nothing is
               either invariable or contorted
It's just a view that each takes.

                                Me I'm like the reed,
both woven in a paradox
of motions.
For who sees a contortionist
   that's neither of each
                                     or the other.

Riffling upon the aspects of my decisive
                            displacement that catches
nither the truth or the lie.
  
You  may catch the second,
                        or minute,
        but beyond the mirco filaments
that linger between variable glimpse
that pass.

Is more than constructive  tendrils
           of a lifetime of consequential
amendments or defaming the
              consequential understanding
that nothing plays by the rules..

Dear ex-boyfriend,
I'm sorry you had to go.
It wasn't fair, but I understand.
Your happiness was just as important to me
as my own.

Dear ex-boyfriend,
I hope you're doing well.
Never will I wish ill upon you,
no matter how much I wish I hate you.

Dear ex-boyfriend,
I'm crying on the floor.
My sadness is a black hole trying to **** me into myself.
I miss you.

Dear ex-boyfriend,
I'm wearing the makeup that you hated.
*******.
I do what I want.

Dear ex-boyfriend,
You gave me hope that you would come back to me.
Don't.

Dear ex-boyfriend,
I realized that I never needed you to love me.
I realized that I was right here to do it for you.

Dear ex-boyfriend,
I look back fondly on our time together.
I will always love you.
But you left, and please never look back.

Dear ex-boyfriend,
One day you'll find a girl better than me.
I hope she makes you happy.

I'm different because i like colors other than white.
I'm different because i like the weirdest things from joyous, laughter and bright.
I'm different because i love you.
You're different because you love me
We're different because we're not like the rest.
I"m different for seeing your weird point of views that no one else can see.
I am just different for being who i am without caring for judgement.
Different.

I let my hand slide
Slide down of the side
Straight - curve - straight - curve - straight
Then I grab
hard
I hate
Hate the love I feel

Low n behold devil at your door
you need more
so u do what u do u soar..
hi..
high high above the sky masking and covering up your reasons why,
to fly above 
to push to shove
dont need my love
but once upon a ******* time you were 'here'
now u may be near me, but your ******* gone cant hear me, gone gone wrong,
crossing and jumping the tracks
hiding the reasons the facts
I love you but *******
you say love waits,
tell that to me when u wake up n find I'm burnt out I'm gone,
**** u left me once n for all..
I stumble I fall.
I wake up to a nightmare a mess, a living hell a stress
**** I need u for...
you held me, you kept me warm..
but all I need is me myself and I...
I dont need drugs to fly,  I'm already ******* crazy...
Only then you know sometimes straight lines are crooked

my hometown has a straight edge,
obedient new kid vibe -
one that other cities hate.
yet it resides in my heart,
its memories forming
the shape of who I am today.

I told you once.
I told you twice.
If I have to tell you again, I'm going to stop being nice.
It doesn't matter if you're black or white.
Gay or straight.
The longer you live, the more you realize love doesn't discriminate. And when this truth becomes real,
so does the truth that you are worthy of love and your heart can heal