If I could write using moonlight
I'd pick up a quill
And break it while
Imprinting your name over and over again
All over your skin and mine
A strange, mismatched puzzle
Tattoos spreading across both our skins
Yearning for the other
The letters reaching out
Across the expanse of space and skin
Attempting to form a complete picture
With each other
And display my masterpiece

Apart- senseless

But placed against each other
They read out
An entire story
Told in two words

Borne of a strange need for possession
I would keep writing until you and I
Would bleed the colours of the evening skies
The silver scars, like intertwining webs
A destiny wound together in a braid

**Inseparable
Unfathomable

I am not one of those people who put up angry notes because of some crazy impulse or a destructive desire to rail against everything that is wrong with the world.
I am not the person whose hands shake so violently,
Whose body shudders so uncontrollably,
That I cannot type straight

But today, I just found out
That people
They pick up my poems
My emotions
Tangible
heavy
difficult
Solidified
Are being picked up
Likened to rags
And treated as cheap caricatures
Of the life I've led

If only they had ever felt
That gut-clenching fear
Of something beneath the surface
The scars that have faded
Covered by new skin
Over the years

If they felt
The need to end their own life
As acutely
As I do

I've never stopped
Not even once
Since the past seven years
It's been right here

Hidden underneath the layers
In between the lines
Read deeper if you dare

Yes,
Yes it sounds a hell load more sexier
To say I nearly jumped off a terrace
Or
I used to slit my wrists

Than tell you that
yesterday
The lights
Went green
And I
I don't know what come over me
But I walked to the middle of
One of the busiest crossings
And attempted
To peer into my future
In the headlights
Of a bus

I find it easier
To tell people
That I am a head-case
And they should stay away
Rather than tell them
That I sat up the whole night
Crying
On my birthday
Because I felt like a Giant Mistake

I find it easier
To tell people these lies
I still call myself honest
Wonder if that makes me a liar

I find it easier to describe
The pretty way the lights danced inside her eyes
When I brought her something entirely unexpected
But I won't talk about the dark, gaping hole
In my heart,
When I realised that I wasn't worth a **** to her

I don't talk about things that affect me
If my face goes pallid
And someone asks me why
I'll tell them it's cause I didn't sleep
What I won't tell them
Is that half the night was spent
Wondering how I came to be
And the other, thinking about how repulsed I am by myself

I won't talk about the way
I flinch
Whenever someone touches me
I won't mention the fact that I was molested
By my best friend
But I'll sound close to tears as I describe
My sorry friend's case who didn't know what to do about it

There are some things
Which aren't any of your ******* business
But it's **** difficult
To keep everything to yourself
When you've got anonymity protecting you
And no shoulder
To cry upon

The ceiling fan makes a comforting noise
As it whirs gently, with the premonition
That winter is near

She sits up hesitantly, somewhat afraid
That there might be something there
She just woke up from one of those nightmares
She could barely control her breathing
Fear and anxiety painted in her eyes

She's almost used to it, or so she thinks,
Till it happens again
She begins to shake just a bit
Almost subtly
She doesn't want- need- to think
Any more

She switches on another one of those gizmos
Whiles her night away
So she doesn't have to sleep
She doesn't need to go back
To those **** nightmares

A chill runs down her spine
But she turns up the music a little louder
She doesn't dare to cry
Scared of being heard,
Scared of acknowledging
That which lies silent, looming ahead
In the darkness

She doesn't want to because
Once she does, it would be tougher
To tell herself that they
Hardly matter

That they are not premonitions
Of the future

I've always hated my birthday

Yeah, I'm reaaally tipsy

And you know what?
That's alright.
That's perfectly fine.
'Cause I've got all these scars
Which I can't stop
Re-examining
Over and over again

It's routine to me, by now

This is less polished than the other poems
Maybe cause I don't even bother
With re-reading this piece
I want it to be brash
Honest

Just like me
All tears,
Jagged edges
Hurt and pain
All over
Just like me

I hate the sound of silence
So I've got music blasting
Away on earphones

(Makes it a little easier
to welcome the light
in the morning)

But
That's all cool
That's perfect

I am going to be fine

A year less to live
But it's alright
Let's raise a toast to that

I was drowning in depression
Desperation
I just needed someone to talk to

But I figured
There's nothing better than this
So I remained sitting
Cross-legged
On the floor of my bathroom cubicle
Jets of ice-cold water pouring
Over my head
My forehead
Eyes, Nose
Legs
Dripping down
Down
As a cloud of grey  
Enclosed me
Within itself

How do I even battle this
I thought
But that was just momentary
And it slipped away
Down, down, down
My mood remained downcast
Dreary

I wish the world could
W o u l d  f a d e  t o  g r e y