Ribs and shaky fingers are not
A definition of beautiful.
A tear streaked face and a constant
Soreness in my voice are not cute.

I want to feel beautiful again.
I want to feel wanted again.

Every passing moment,
I feel less acknowledged.
Less looked at.

I've raided my mind for every answer to my questions:
Do you look at me like I'm beautiful?
Do you notice the little things?
Respect the small scars that I don't remember?
Do you realize how hard I fight for you and how close
I've come to trying again?
Do you ever cry for me? Pray for me?
Do you ever look at me just for the fun of it?
And notice every detail in my back while I'm not looking?

I want to feel needed again.
I want to know that I am wanted and not discarded.
That I am not a useless thing and a waste of air.
I just want to feel your eyes on me and feel the gentleness of your hands.

Do you ever shake out of fear for me?
Do you ever realize that I am in pain before I do?
D you realize that every time someone asks if I'm okay,
Even if I am, I start to cry because
There is always something to think about?
Do you ever think about how lonely and worthless I feel when I have no one there with me?
Do you ever worry about when I fall asleep, maybe I'm dreaming about my own death?
Do you ever get scared when I lock myself in my room and refuse to speak?
Do you ever wonder what it's like to be as jealous as I am?
Or wonder what it's like to be in my shoes with people talking behind my back and insulting me?
Sometimes physically pushing me?

I just want to feel loved again.
I miss you.

A final tear falls like
My soul escaping from my eyes.

The windows are closed.

A draft can still be felt from the edge of a mental bridge,
And I jumped.
My excuse: I go where the wind takes me.

---------
I've let you know what's its like,
Yet it seems like you don't want it to be true.
You lie to yourself.
Or maybe you just don't comprehend.

Running from the truth will get you nowhere.
---------

A final tear falls like
A memory finally understood.

et stellæ de cælo, quam te amo.

And he walks away.
I looked at him. I almost said something to him.
He was distracted and
Looked angry.
At me?
At nothing?
And he walked away.

My endless pain, scars,
All hidden within the stars
My mind contains.

My dreams, fantasies,
Controlling the nerves that plead
Under my fingers.

I think, I feel dead
About the things of mine you steal
Such as my innocence

I hurt, I ******
The thoughts that bring me under
My reckless waters.

I'm sorry for being an idiot. I'm sorry for being a *****. I'm sorry for walking away when I am angry.  I'm sorry for being me. I'm sorry for being moody. I'm sorry for not shutting up. I'm sorry for feeling the need to talk to you. I'm sorry for procrastinating. I'm sorry for not making you as happy as I want you to be. I'm sorry for not saying the right thing. I'm sorry for being me. I'm sorry for wearing heels. I'm sorry for wearing jeans. I'm sorry for being me. I'm sorry I. Sorry I'm sorry for doing what ever I have done. Im Sorry for being me.

How about I
I throw you into
A room with
Dust and chemicals
You won't be able to
Breath Through that Asphyxiation

A black room surrounds me,
Grey shadows and eyes on the walls.

Smoke caresses me, a ****** of happiness;
He steals the angels protecting me, my spirit.
He may just be as in love as I am.
Love... Love..... Love.........

Is it though?
Words unspoken, an asylum unopened,
The craziness. Consumes.

The spice of wind in winter burns through,
Somehow flows through my arms to you.
These visions belong to the shadows of your body, mind, heart.
Tell me that I am in your darkness, do not lie otherwise.

Do you love me enough? Or is this a nightmare?

It felt so right, clear
As a crystal lake in summer. The humidity.

Teach me how to breathe under water so that I may
Follow the current.
Through time and thyme, the scents
That drive me to ask.
Question everything.

Can I make this better?
Install a light switch in the sun for you.

Sleep, lion. I will not be the sheep
You devour. I will be the lioness you sweep away.

Could I be the one to trim your ego,
Your fragile mind into a sturdy rose bush?
Thorns protruding, make me bleed again?

Maybe I will keep you.
The steady strums of my heart strings calming my ears.
And I can not predict what we could discover in this filthy music,
Or maybe the silver harps the angels play.