Starting some poems, that I then quickly scrap,
because though I feel happy, I suspect it's a trap.
So I can't write, not for any muse,
'cause I can't find the words I want to use.
Sorry for staying, and for feeling this way,
sorry for going and not talking today.
I don't understand I'm just so confused,
holding my heart, all tattered and bruised,
what is it I want? What is I need?
Just give some advice that I can heed.
Because silence is brutal, but talking makes me feel,
and I keep reopening wounds that just won't heal

I would.
I'd see her in everything, that I adore
I'd scour the world for the right words and more.
Until this feeling's explained, I'll constantly stress,
Do everything possible, and not a thing less.
Rather than just feel it, I'll make her understand
Leave her something to remember, even when I'm not on hand.
Because what she says isn't always, what she feels,
You can't believe her words, just because it appeals.

And how little you'd do, became apparent in time,
I'd do so much more, and then I'd make it rhyme

A year has passed, and it hasn't changed,
no my favourite part, hasn't been exchanged.
More than any feeling, or touch, or kiss,
it's that look in your eyes, that I really miss.
That look of love, and need and lust,
of happiness, hope, and most of all trust.
I miss that look, that you once gave me,
I miss staring into your eyes, and that being all I see.

Such a long year, since I last tasted your lips,
and over your skin, traced my fingertips.
Such a long year, since that day in your room,
a day you've forgotten, or so I assume.
But a day of perfection, of laughter of smiles,
and of you and your sister, putting my hair in odd styles.
The last day where I pinned, you down on your floor,
the last day spent constantly, closing your door,
the last day I had you all to myself,
before my emotions, I was forced to shelf.
It's a day you've forgotten, just as you should,
but a day I'll remember, as I knew that I would.

There it is again, that brutal heartbreak,
a blinding pain, that I can't take.
This isn't what I wanted to do,
I thought I was planning, on fighting for you,
but no, this time, I put your happiness first,
though all the pain, makes it feel like I'm cursed.
This time I won't, get in the way,
of your happiness my love, no, not on this day.
My palms, they sting, but I know this is right,
I won't tell you, what I want to tonight,
instead I'll suggest, you be happy with him,
and let my blood glisten, in this light oh so dim.

Here I beg, for death's sweet release,
so I can finally be at peace,
and no one cares, and no one knows,
about unimportant feelings such as those,
of suicide, and of the end,
and a wasted life, I couldn't spend