I'll keep you safer than you ever thought was possible. Every secret hidden behind seals and locks, and the keys thrown away like a rotten dish that'll never be seen again.
Here, my arms are wide open now run to me and stay... I could never let such a broken beauty be shattered yet again by hands that were too careless to see the fractures that make you so hard to accept in every day life for all, other than me.

Your warmth is more than welcome to mix with mine and stay forever, because even when you've gone away I feel you here for days.

I just want to be the one you come home to at the end of the night.

There will come a point in life
when you find out things you didn't know
'cause everyone keeps things hidden;
locked them up behind vessel and bone
to never be brought into light again
until someone finds the key.

"I'm secretly a Satanist."
"I'm secretly a Christian."
"I secretly cut myself
because you never listen."
"I secretly don't like you."
"I'm secretly a *****."
"I secretly listen to what you say
behind that closed wooden door."
Everyone has secrets,
and everybody lies,
everybody gives someone pain,
and everybody cries.
Be careful what you wish for,
be careful what you say
one day you might regret it all,
and you'll watch everything decay.

There's a reason I notice your name where I never thought it belonged before, and I don't think my heart can project my feelings where I set my eyes to look because if it could it wouldn't jump so hard and fast at the slightest vocalizing of your name. I try to shut that book like I violently slam the door shut on any negative thought of you. I've never seen signs like this before, it's almost as if they were flashing neon lights that were actually important to someone.
No.
Not someone.

Me.

I find it easy to commit to someone...

perhaps that's part of the problem.

I find it sad that I've begun associating you with headaches and bad dreams more often than not.

It's like the only way to reach out to you is to reschedule the days you want to fall in love with me all over again like those days are just some sort of meeting for me to potentially become a home for you.

My arms are open like the front doors of a 5 story mansion with a small attic added on top like icing to a cake and yet you refuse to close them for good for me.

You arrive and pull open every single window and door, you turn on all of the lights, and every trinket that thrives off of my energy is switched on in addition to that without a care in the world of how much of my electricity you are wasting.

Eventually you come to the heart of the house, you turn the flame on high on the stove, you walk straight out and you leave me to burn again.
It's every single time I see you that you do this to me, and somehow I always found the tools to rebuild myself.

This time is different. This time I can't because I'm shattered beyond repair.  Being the glorious architect that you are I figure you could design the sort of place you actually wish to live in.

But you won't.
I'm not in your outline anymore, am I?

You once told me you wanted to fix me, and now is your final chance, because once I find the courage, the meaning, and my resilience to assemble myself once more... Just know that:

I'm closing all of the doors and locking them from the inside with golden keys that I can melt down into reminders of who I'm to not let back in. My arms will not open up for your embraces any longer, lover, not even if you try to pry them open.

I'm closing all of the windows and barring them from your needy hands. They will have to find a new toy to play with.

I'm turning off all of the lights so someone new can learn where the lightswitches to my soul are located, since no matter how often I moved them from you, you still knew me well enough to turn me on.

I'm extinguishing the flame that is constantly flickering between our fragile figures, blowing it out like a candle, and never giving you the ability to light me up again.

I am a female powerhouse and I belong to no one.

I forgot to remember the memories we shared once upon a dream. The bullets of your love dropped from my life and onto the ground for another to pick up. The blade that showed my greatest regrets tore through my life again as it had before. Dripping, liquid crimson are words that were left unsaid.
The melancholy echo and recollection of your voice that was once so abundant in volume leaving my brain feeling claustrophobic in stature. A hollowed out chest waiting to be filled again with a heart so tattered or worn into pieces from careless gandering. Forsaken am I to you with no better word than "broken" to fill the answer of caring for my well being.
Unexpected twists will wriggle and writhe their way between my adolescent fingers. Remembrance, it arrives in a drop of a moment, barrelling thoughts through my head like a machine gun or a wood pecker at work. A malfunctioning, homosapien-resembling robot is what I seem to be, to myself lest no others believe it. I feel who I am, who I have become, is disastrous among all others. A cry of displeasure may or may not rest on my lips for the simple fact of me not knowing who I am anymore.
Confusion is simple to attract, why must it be so hard to lift away?
For knowing simply of one thing that I want in my life, pondering what is challenging me mentally - maybe even emotionally - is tearing me apart. Soon I'll raise the weapon of my choice for ruining a mind of memories and moments that are dearly longed to have back. A glint of light reflects into my vision, a turn of my head occurs, and then the accepting of a grim smile.
The item is retrieved into my left hand, a pulse is found in my right, and then The Silver begins delving, deeply searching, for the source of the throbbing vein. As it is found, as that artery is torn by the Paladin for those emotionally distressed. The lexemes begin to repeat themselves: Forsaken. Remembrance. Confusion.  Memories.
I recall the statement of being wanted by none other than you as my eyes begin to close. What was being craved for so long could have been mine within a matter of time, but I took what they call "The Cowards Way Out." I took the way not many thought I was aware of. I broke a promise that I never truly made to anyone. Now all I hear is the quiet drip... drip... drip...  of Red Remorse crowding the floor.
In regret, I say I'm sorry.
In begging, remember me.
In silence, I'm gone.
Then, the only thing left to cover the floorboards are the words that were left unsaid in that beautiful, liquid crimson.

Tell my mother I'm sorry
that the love notes I wrote were never for her,
that she never had enough time to actually pay attention to me or what I said,
that she wasted her time tucking me in at night to help me feel loved when it never even helped,
that I stepped on the cracks in the sidewalks so her back was constantly broken  while she was trying to provide
for everyone else but me.

Tell my dad I'm sorry
that I was such a failure that every step I took in the right direction was the wrong one,
that his voice went hoarse but at least he was acknowledging me,
that no matter how many times he left bruises I counted it as a hug,
that he never had time to listen to me,
that he never had time to swallow his pride,
that he never had time to love me.

Tell my siblings I'm sorry
that they never took the time to understand me,
that they'll never know just how easily harsh words can stick in someone's brain,
that I ended up so much like the person they despise,
that I lived up to every negative expectation they had of me.


Tell my friends I'm sorry
that my conditions were some sort of joke,
that I never actually mattered unless they needed something,
that when they replied laughing out loud when I said I was dying they couldn't even recognize I actually was.

And tell my heart I'm sorry
that I forgot how to sew it back together again
when it
stopped
beating.

Let me apologize, to begin with because of my body type.
I will NEVER be good enough for anyone to date due to current 'hype.'
You know, the battle of 'bones' vs curves?
Just let me inflate myself to the  right number so I can properly serve
As the perfect specimen for your delicate eyes.
Obviously no one is good enough unless they've got decent thighs.

But just wait a ******* minute, because here I am again:
So let me apologize, to begin with, if I offend
You or your friends who think they're too good
To date someone larger, with some extra love under the hood.
How many times have I heard you exclaim in disgust
Of how large she is and how you'd drown in her bust
If you even got near her? I saw you shaking in fear.
From your head to your toes, you were trembling dear.

See I'm told to eat more and maybe, just maybe,
At the end of the night I'll be the one you call baby.
But if I was larger, and let's tell the truth,
You'd be so disgusted by my 'sweet tooth.'

I could eat an elephant and never gain a pound,
She could eat a salad and the crunch is the only sound
You hear a mile away and yet you would assume
That burgers and French fries is all that she consumed.
Do you ever stop to think, ladies and gents?
The true beauty of someone isn't based on the number on their pants.

So, let me apologize, to begin with,
If I bruise your massive ego,
But the way to tell if she's the perfect woman is not by your libido.

Maybe you think she's too much like you, and that you couldn't stand loving yourself because you've seen how strongly you can love someone and it has always ended badly so you don't want to break her anymore than you already have.

I've come to understand why some people do not find hope in anything, at any time, in any place.
The constant disappointment when you love and lose something precious to you is too much to bear.
The weight of every failure you've ever had to face drags you down to the dirt; the taste of soil is filling your mouth as you try so hard to get back up again but keep getting buried even further.
It's almost like the time you went to bed and plugged your phone in to charge only to wake up and discover you forgot to plug the **** thing into the outlet in order to get the desired effect.
We're a society of broken people built on shattered expectations because no one knows how to keep their word.
If you love something, set it free because nothing is worse than getting caught up in hoping that love will go somewhere when it never mattered to begin with.
Those you consider close to you will leave you sooner than you can beg them not to, and you'll find yourself groveling in the dirt you constantly pull yourself up from.
You'll start sleeping on the couch again for two reasons. One: Your bed is too empty to sleep in alone. And two: if you keep sleeping where you rarely get a wink you'll end up sick enough to pass away unnoticed.
But you try not to get your hopes up for someone to fill that empty place in your bed or for that unexpected sickness to come around.
You just sit and ponder on the conclusion that you've conjured yourself, but are too cowardly to set forward: you're better off in the dirt.

My whole world is falling to pieces.
Nothing will ever be able to fix this.
I own a heart with gaps to fill
and while I crash I'm standing still.
Everything is spinning
and I'm having trouble breathing.
I'm losing all the things that matter
and the line my heart makes is going flatter.
Ceasing to exist seems to be logical.
Remember, my plan has a reason but not diabloical-
I just can't stand this, my mind is now drifting
onto thoughts of the end and it's not shifting.
I'll never be complete again,
and it's like that 'till the end.

When our I love yous turned into nothing I began to wonder what it was that I had said to lose you to the void of time and people who did not have your best interest at heart.

I mean I was the only valiant soldier to stick through all the years of ******* everyone set on your plate for you to devour like it was something you could trust.

I did everything I could to show you that you were the highest priority of mine and still you sent no regard over the way I loved you.

Removing my heart multiple times to set on a golden plate for you to stomach was the hardest part of this, because I still do it every day and receive no recognition until you're ready to try a piece of my beating vessel and give me the time of day.

The misery I feel for you abuses your taste buds like the nostalgia of our time together consistently picks at my grey matter and causes the butterflies to choke me up again.
There are too many now to just remain in my stomach.

It's getting hard to breathe.

My nerves aren't yet shot. In fact they're very reactive to every tooth you grind over my flesh to ******* distinct flavour one more time.

You swallow.
The seasonings of pain, guilt, heartache are to your liking as usual. You want more but you want to keep us anticipating the other days you receive us back into your heart for a few hours.

You tell me to put my heart back behind the pathetic cage of ribs I own without even saying a word.
PLEASE stop pulling me apart to swallow the last few pieces I have left for myself.

You're so miserable and you refuse to let me in to stitch you back together to the one I remember so clearly. But I still love you with every dreaded beat my heart takes.

My words begin to come out mixed with despise and an overwhelming amount of adoration.

I'm falling to pieces, but I wouldn't change a thing about you.

"You love me, and I love you oh so much. Everything is fine." You told me this once and that is the only thing holding me together these days like some sort of crazy glue designed by love.

I can't breathe anymore.

I ******* hate you, but I love you oh so much.
Why is everything we had between us falling out of touch?

It's three in the morning and instead of sleeping like I should be, I'm wrapped in a towel on my bathroom floor with tears welling in my eyes like a faucet that drips when it's not turned off the entire way. Why was a made this way? Who made me who I am today?
I guess I only have myself to blame; me, my cigarettes, and hair dye that change my personality as the wind changes directions on a stormy day.
Everything is building up like plaque on unbrushed teeth and my head begins to feel heavy from the weight of all the thoughts cascading in all at once like a waterfall designed specifically for the nature of my brain. I am not welcome here anymore, the welcome mat has been swiped from under my feet, the door slammed shut and locked as many times as it possibly can be. I'm not allowed to be omniscient in my own problems, because if I did I would have too much power and even if you're the ruler of the land you still need to go through a congress to get any permission to make any decisions.

I never expected you to treat me like an obligation
But I also never expected you to treat me like the most amazing woman on earth one day
and then like the most needy, annoying human being the next.
I notice I've become an inconvenience.
I'm sorry kissing me no longer brings you any joy.
I'm sorry that our intimate moments are no longer significant.
I'm sorry that, even after promising me you weren't like the rest,
you ****** me

And you left.

Tonight I missed a shot with nostalgia because of myself.
I've become such a slave to my phone that the flashing colours in the sky could not,
would not bother me.
Everything except for the device shining in my palms was blocked out like a voice I didn't want to hear in the first place,
Except I DID want to hear it.
I want know about everything that is happening around me without burying my face so deeply into Google to find the answers I'm searching for.
Nothing ever happens to me because I'm too busy in the comfort of my own home,
upon my own couch,
on my own phone worrying about the next Facebook status
and whether or not it will be entertaining
or in need of a dose of an opinion that is my own.

I recognize that I have my own personal "cell"-mate that will follow me wherever I go as long as I don't forget it on my kitchen counter.
I am shackled to my cellphone.
It takes me in handcuffs daily,
arresting me at my own free will.
A policemen of such small character,
yet so many brains.
And I already know my rights.
I already know my rights because I've researched them enough times with my mobile text book to have them memorized.
You have the right to post a status, anything you say can and will be taken out of context.
You have a right to an opinion, if you do not have an opinion one will be appointed to you by your desire to impress those whom share a friendship with you.

I am a servant to technology.
It's as though it is a part of my anatomy.
If it's not one item of electronics it's another and it has my full undivided attention.
As connected as we are, we have all become disconnected.
No one talks anymore.
Word of mouth has become word of texting.
Important pieces of information are shared via the internet because it's easier to get it out there all at once instead of saying it multiple times.
I sadly succumb to every chime I am beckoned with as it demands I answer whomever has interupted the surfing
and scrolling
and sharing
and liking
and commenting
and posting...
I put my phone down in disbelief.
Now tell me, "What's on your mind?"

I hope you're resting well tonight without dreams of pain or fright with the knowledge that without you I best be dead for every thought that has ever set foot in my head. In the end I will remember the days of the true and the times where I was too far away from you, but I will also recall the sweet bliss that we shared and the feelings we held although no one else cared. We fell in love once and that's all that matters, and still in my chest my heart seems to chatter on and on with how it misses you so and how when I looked into your eyes my vessel would glow with happiness as all that I see is the love that you have that is all just for me. Now darling, please darling, don't drift off too far- I need you right here and not with the stars. I can't let you go when you're still in my heart and you're holding me captive like some sort of art that is everyone's favourite but you can't let go, because deciding to share is letting everyone know just how amazing your lover can be with things that they never thought they'd be graced to see and that's none of their business, they'll all do just fine not knowing the jokes behind the rhythm and rhyme that I express for you today... Well, I love you dear. What else can I say?

She was forgotten in the depths of her despair.
Could you remember her like this with a sadistic grin on your lips?

It's a melancholy thought:
She stares at you with depression clouding her eyes. You push off, running from her even further than you ever have before. You hear a cry of desperation in the distance and a shot, a thud, a crash to concrete, and echoes of breaking bones shattering through the air. You keep running, you don't look back. Blood-curdling screams tear the distance between you and her.
You reach your destination, you look in the mirror. In your hands you hold a pistol and a hammer. You drop them, the tile cracking with contact of the lethal weapons.

She was forgotten  in the depths of her despair.
By you, nonetheless.
Do you remember now?

I see that smirk crawl upon your lips behind those rusting bars. You killed her with no reason but to pleasure your mind. Then again, here's the fun part: She's recovering in a hospital somewhere, and here you are receiving your own death sentence. Who's smiling now?

It's hard knowing
you're not in the right location
when everyone ahead of you
is doing so much better than you are,
and when you try to follow them
you get lost in throngs of people
who are
just
like
you.

You become plastered to the stereotype
like the same boring wallpaper
in the same mundane house;
the kind that someone wants to cover
with accomplishments because it's too ugly
to deserve even a quick gander.
And that's alright with you
because it's just how you feel: ugly.

You become melancholy at the thought
that every word you try to spread on that
revolting wallpaper in an attempt to make it beautiful,
before someone else tries to do the same,
just keeps being buried under yet another outstanding triumph
from someone who isn't you.

It's beyond difficult to understand
you aren't in the right position
to become the dream you made up inside your head
as you step over boundaries that are faded
in hopes you can immediately be where you desire
and require
when the design has a necessity for time
and careful planning.

And all you want is to find your escape
because the stress that continues to bear down on you
is pulling at your center as well.
You've no idea where your home is,
but it certainly isn't in the arms
of the mattress you claim solace in every night.

They claim that home is where the heart is,
but your heart isn't with you.
It's living luxury somewhere else.
It's every
single
day
you hear yourseld murmuring
'there's no place like home'
But you don't receive that free trip by clicking your heals.
You don't find your way home
by following that rabbit down a hole.
Can you find where you belong?
Or will you be lost forever in this Wonderland like me and everyone else?

I apologize if I'm too persistent in telling you that you matter to me and my heart in ways no one ever has. I've become melancholy in the thought of being alone since I have never been treated like anything but a waste of space and values on a clock. Years have gone by since I've felt like I truly existed to anyone for reasons beyond carnal need and emotional comprehension. I'm not accustomed to feeling a purpose. I've become distant from my own mental standpoint and blood-pumping center whereas I can find no direction. I've been abandoned by those who claimed they would never surrender. I've been damaged by those who stated they could never, would never, misuse me.
When you re-arrived in this shattered existence of mine and evaluated me as an actual being with sentimental value, instead of falling apart, I found myself falling together. Every last piece of me discovering the significance of who I am, always have been, and hopefully always will be. I lost multiple opportunities in which I could express to you the amount I care for your entire essence, I could beg to show you now. However, I will do so as you're willing.
Prepared.
Consenting.
Wanting.
You appeared in my life and became a part of the character I never expected to be. "Tu me manques." You are missing from me.

I take showers to brush off the chill you leave behind when you forget I exist.
The water doesn't hug me quite as tightly as you do,
nor keep me quite as warm
but as I imagine your hold enveloping me while I let the droplets caress my skin,
I feel whole again...
if only for a little while.

The water is getting colder now and you begin to fade away from me.
I just wish you'd stay a little longer,
love me a little harder,
hold me a little stronger
and I beg you please...
Please don't forget my name.

The water is getting even colder now and I no longer feel your grasp.
I keep hoping for you to linger on my skin
but you've already gone again.
Please wear me as a pendant,
tell me you'll never forget my name.

I'm beginning to hold myself and its just not the same.

You lay in your bed that is void of anything but yourself and memories. You ponder to yourself over the

Words.

Embraces.

Silences.

you once shared with... Them.

You find yourself missing... Something...

Pieces of yourself you once thought you had but you lost somewhere in the hole of nothingness They gave but you searched for significance within daily.

Crystals form in corners of pink flesh and your cogs churn harder.

It's increasingly difficult to breathe. There's a force unknown by you that is pushing against your lungs.

That unceasingly shattered vessel beating harder in your chest, but if attempted to be heard it comes off as shallow. Nonexistent.

Who's there?

No one.

Not me.

Not Them.

No... You.

YOU  took me and didn't give me back. You took me...

You... You pillaged my body for pieces and left me broken in a junkyard life.

Tears.

Pity.

Depression.

Nothing left but a pile of pieces that no one even uses or cares for anymore.

I can't believe you could tear me apart like that and not make an attempt in repairs. Instead you stole dire parts and tried to find someone you could change.

The truth is, you can't take pieces of something you never truly cared about and attempt to apply it to someone else because it will

NEVER

bear any significance to you, your heart, your mind, or soul.

You're a sad excuse for a waste of territory.

You apathy is pathetic.

Breath in deeply; don't you quake.

I'll still be there, when you wake.



Take this smile, take this heart,

keep it safe, we'll never part.



Darling, let me see your soul shine.

When I see it, it's so divine.



It grips my soul and hugs me tight,

it fills me with the brightest delight.



I'll sit there quietly and absorb your voice,

holding each word because it's my choice.



I'll hold you tightly if you need me to,

I'll do anything, anything at all, for you.



You know I love you, you know I care,

and I can't imagine my life without you there.



Friends are forever, pain is not,

darling, confide in me if you feel distraught.



Allies for eternity; I'll stand by your side,

but whether you stay is yours to decide.

I am made entirely out of glass, if you look hard enough you can see the cracks gleaming through from my insides and begging you to fix me from the outside in. I am not something to be forgotten and yet I always am. I am put inside that box without newspaper to keep my edges safe or bubble wrap to hold me in place and even still those precautions will never be as secure  as your hands once were to me.
I'm getting colder with every piece of me that bleeds into the abyss and will never be seen again. By the time we get home next I will have lost another piece of me that you once cherished more than yourself. I'm apalled that you just let me fall away from you so easily when you once told me you adored me more than you adored most things. You polished me daily and put me on the highest shelf, I was the largest priority to you until I started falling apart again and you found other statuettes of glass to keep your company as you waited for me to glue myself together again.
But that's not how this works. You can't just collect knick knacks like it's your hobby, and tell them you hold such a substantial amount of affection for them and move onto the next without even telling the prior that you were sorry you broke them but their needs were no longer important... or perhaps never were.
As you caress the curves of every other goddess you set your eyes on and you become overwhelmed by the beauty of them all, I hope you shatter under the pressure like you shattered the rest of us. I hope you come to the realization that the amount of perfection that you receive in that specific juncture is not your decision any longer.