I need to find new ways to express
the same way I've felt year after year.
Unique combinations of perfect poetry
that somehow convey exactly what I go through on a day to day basis.

This is me once again trying to shoot that target,
even if I never get the chance to yell bullseye.

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I miss the sparks we had in every moment together, the ones that ignited our love to burn ferociously blue, not a gentle red.

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That was great but I think I missed, I'll give it another try.

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There is no remedy to prescribe for this disease of a life you left me lost in. All I can hope for now is that these words navigate their way onto your screen.

I design maps in every poem I jot down, with the illusion that someday you WILL find the path back to us.

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No... that one was accurate, but I'll try to be more precise.

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I falsify myself anytime someone looks at me by wearing a mask that I'm not sure I can ever take off.

I don't have the courage to do that, because there's not a right way to explain how such permenant blemishes didn't start off as birthmarks.  They don't even look like scars, but rather lesions where you chose to purposely poison every inch of my being.   

My only method of eradicating you from my body was to turn my emotional pen and ink into something that I'm not embarrased to show the world.

My tattoos are etched so that I can finally decide what I look like on the outside, the person I saw myself becoming before I met you. Although, even these painful shades I continue forcing myself to endure won't hide the knowledge I am left blinded by.
 
We both know the real ones were engraved a long time ago in spaces so buried, so bottomless that not even the busiest gravedigger could stumble upon them.

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That felt like a closer hit.

Next time I decide to load my handgun I'll make sure to take a deep breath and focus, maybe then can I actually shoot the center of these criminal emotions that ****** me time and time again.