(I wrote this almost a year ago, and I just found it.)

You tell me
that you love me.
I’m not sure
as to whether I should say,
"I love you too,"
or “I know.”
Because I spent my whole childhood
believing in second chances
but I’ve also spent my life
believing that I never deserved them.
That praise was something
to which I would never be entitled.
That other peoples’
time
effort
company
were things I would never
be truly worthy of,
and even calories
were a foreign substance
that I would never deserve.
I have mastered the art
of filling myself
with relics of isolation
and the hopes that nobody
will get too close,
for I will surely drown them.
Suffocate them.
I can not let myself think
that you might actually care about me,
I can not let myself believe
that I am worth what you say I am,
I’m sorry.
I’m sorry that you got
stuck with me,
and that you allowed yourself
to feel something more for me
than I ever could for myself,
I’m sorry that I dream of you now
and that your name is always
in my thoughts and on my lips,
it is addictive in its toxicity.
For I fear that if I go too long
without saying it,
that it will disappear.
But at the same time
I feel as thought I say it
too often,
but I guess the phrase
"too often"
needs perspective.
I can not let myself believe
that this does not come
with a punchline,
that you do not come with
an ulterior motive,
that the beat my heart skips
and the catch in my breath
are not the product of a joke.
Because my thoughts are screaming
inside of my mind louder than my voice
could ever tell you that I love you too,
and the shrieking and shuddering sobs
that escape my lips
as blood trails like springwater
down my arms
are so quiet, I am amazed the world
cannot hear.
I am amazed that my virtually nonexistent voice
does not ring in the ears
of anybody who stops to listen
but simultaneously,
I am glad.
Glad that nobody can take
the solidity of mental illness in love
away from me.

when you smile
when you laugh
volcanic eruptions of joy and happiness flow over me like molten lava.
eventually the joy cools and hardens to my body.
I find myself trapped
trapped in your happiness.
It seems odd
the comparison
of
happiness
and
trapped.
layer after layer flows over me
completely suffocating me
unable to move
caught
in the clutches of the great antithesis of happiness and suffocation

The air,
The pressure.
It suffocates me.

It's undesirable,
As my desperation is at the core.
I long to be by his side.
Forevermore.

Scrambling to the top,
Climbing the mountain of decision.
I chose him.
He is mine.
Now and Forever.

My eyes deceive me,
When I see his shadow pass by.
He is states away.
Yet I feel him near.

My love is growing stronger,
The craving is beginning to grow.
Growing everyday,
Stronger than before.

I believe in my heart,
Though is has deceived me,
Countless times.

He will come,
As I await for the knock.
Upon the timely door.

The pressure is consuming me,
My heart is changing me.
Transforming the beast inside.

Forgive me,
My love for you are dear to me.
You have given me this gift,
I take it kindly.

One promise,
Even if this world destroys me.
If I am a lamb,
Led to the slaughter.

I will always love you,
I will always protect you.
My wounds mean nothing,
When I know our bond is strong.

The beast will be subdued...

your smile
made
my lungs
fill with
flowers
and although
they are
beautiful
I can't
seem to
*******
breathe.

You make me feel the plasticity in my blood
It resonates through my words
It resonates in your world
It resonates in your fake convenience
And if I could, I would run away
From myself, farther away that I've ever been
Farther than your touch
Farther than your "I love you very much."

Black is thy name.
Black is thy shroud.
If I were to open thee,
What shall be seen?


I can feel thy Black
Soul as I spread thy
Broken wings. I hear
Each hour chime thy


Dirge and call thy
Name. I shall spread
My shoulders' blades
And feel them rise


Against my tyrannical
Skin; as thou wouldst rise
In the charcoal heavens,
Perverting it with thy


Black flock; as The Morning Star
Rose against tyrant rule
So too shall my shoulders'
Blades against my suffocating


Skin. What shall we see if
They emancipated are, or
I, eviscerated? Shall I be
Black as thee beneath my


Flesh? My ribs, and hips,
Bones, and fingers now do
The same. My bruised flesh
Shall see not the day.

What shall we see when the
Rest of it falls away? A *****
Of bones that droningly cry,
As thou screech thy name?


I think I shall be like thee,
Black in heart and Black in
Blood. I am stillborn. I shall
No longer see the day.