The pain exchanged between us has a rate I’d hate to see.

I hesitate to demonstrate exactly what we used to be.

If history repeats itself, I’ll feel the need to seek some help.

Reached a peak and when we fell, we let go of what we held.

True intentions

in suspension.

Falling towards

another lesson.

Misdirected missed connection, lost within our misconception.

Is this it?

No needs are met.

Position on your knees and pray.

Tomorrows pain is lived today.

Truth is now a disguised fake

There in lies, the wait.

The stutter step.

New change of pace.

I met a person in a mask, who took it off too **** late.

In too deep, and never great.

Is this love, or my mistake?

It's blatant that we're never meant, a lovely fact we'll never face.

My body ached
I felt bruised
Stretched to the limits
I felt physically abused.

My insides were moved
To different locations
It felt unreal
It was a surreal sensation.

My back hurt
My bones shifted
I felt sick
The pain persisted.

I felt like being ripped
From the inside out
They watched and waited
As I continued to shout.

Oh! The pain!
Oh! The discomfort!
I lay there out of breath
As I pushed with all my effort.

One last great push
It will soon end
I screamed
I shouted

Then stillness
Silence fell
My head plopped back
I felt like I was under a spell.

The silence was broken
By a piercing wail
It sounded like an angel
And you were unveiled.

Nothing ached anymore
There you are
My little angel
My little shining star.

I FLOat into NOthing
drifting from place to place
LOSt

My heart, a hospice house
For all my hopes and dreams
My mind, a prison
Where thoughts shake their shackles
My eyes, are windows
With curtains always drawn

I don't know how to whine or cry about it.
It feels like misery.
Something I deserve, something I don't deserve.

I don't know;
Is it all the sins of being hopelessly romantic? -
That the one time I find myself the ideal mate,
I lose her; for my sins. I blame my sins.
My wasteful sins.

I've wasted many-a-hearts.
Unrequited.
Not interested.
Really.

There she was. I was standing in front of a mirror.
Alone. There she was.
In a dress, long hair, a smile, tantalizing lips;
my personality, my interests, my views; a recluse - we.

Yet, alone in front of this mirror, it was She I saw.
Not I.
Her. I saw her.
She was me. I was her. We were I.
At least in the sense - in my sense - we were I.
I saw myself in her. I saw us in her. I saw her in us.
It was confusing; Aren't opposites suppose to attract?
Yet, there I was, attracted to the female version of my own mirror image.
She was refreshing. I had been alone. I am alone.
There she was, an image of me. I want to be alone with her.
I wanted.

Thing is;
Love is a minor - always childish - always unrequited.
Everything I saw was everything that never presented itself to her.
I found myself caught in an deceitful delusion.
I conformed myself into a conforming.
She was the idea that was not an idea - but became THE idea.
I saw perfect in her. Perfect in everything that was not perfect.
I saw love in everything that was not loveable.
I saw time in everything that was not worth my time.
I saw us in everything that was not us. It was never us.
She - I, trapped in a delusion.

I saw everything I wanted, but love is a minor - childish.
Everything I want was for someone else to have.
She was for someone else to have. Someone else has her.

And I;
I am alone.
I have no 'her'.
No She.

Sometimes I miss you.
The way you would try not to kiss me and fail,
Spectacularly.
Hold me like I was necessary.
Like you were starving and what you were starving for was my soul.
I loved how hard your hands were, pulling me closer,
How unafraid you were to want me once you finally admitted you did.
I really miss that, I really do.
But I think you were horrible for me.
And now that I have proof that you touched me,
I can find the strength to search for someone whose love
Won't bruise.