I know i liked too many of your poems.
I know I'm being clingy.
Ignore me.
Pretend I didn't almost reach out.

He gave me dead flowers
So I can smell them every day
The rotten petals falling
The color of decay

The washed out sunflower
The dehydrated leaves
The mold on the water
The color of debris

The richly red rose
Now drooping to the floor
The color of love
Existed no more

But still I saved the flowers
And smelled them every day
And watered them with tears
To let them grow again.

I'm tired
You know?
And just so very
Very
Alone

I sent you a letter,
To explain the way I feel, and the rest.
And I don't exactly remember what I wrote,
But that's probably for the best.

I have so many tests to study for,
Yet I'm sitting here, wishing to die.
I have so many things to do,
But all I do is mentally cry.

So, here's another thing I've written to you. I've filled pages and pages, and, I kept a record. It's calles: "All the things I wanted to tell you, but never did." Usually, I call it "All and more." I just read one of 'em back. And I still can't explain the anger I felt. "3 months you've been posessing my mind." I still feel the anger from when I wrote that down. I was so mad. Not at you, but at myself. At the world. For letting me feel this way, and allowing myself to feel this. I used to think you were just a wave of lurid inspiration. But you weren't. You weren't just a wave, you were the entire ocean. And everyone knows how beautiful the ocean is.

isn’t it scary how much a smile can hide?