some days they are sad. sad about the weather, sad about the thing that happened last night, sad about losing their favorite book, sad about their coffee being cold, sad about the fact that they can't find matching socks. lots of things make them sad, lots of nothings make them sad too. you see, when you have a predisposition for being sad, every little thing counts.  so when you ask her why she is sad and she cannot answer, do not press further. do not go looking for a reason that just isn't there. when you ask what you can do and she says nothing, do not be hurt. do not feel useless. when she wakes in the middle of the night and she is silent, but you can feel the bed shaking as she cries, do not assume you know what she is feeling. you don't. hold her if she wants it, don't touch her if she doesn't. if you ask her if she wants you to stay and she says yes, do. but if she tells you to walk away, do not listen. stay with her, because if you don't, she might not be there in the morning .

This is just another sad story
About a lonely boy
He sits alone at night
Still thinking of you

The way your eyes shine
Like they did for him
The smiles you used to share
Under the old oak tree

Now he sits there alone
With your names carved there
Like a scar in your skin
Or a distant memory

This is just another sad story
About a lonely boy
He sits alone tonight
Singing a melody

A song just for you
If you'll take this time
A song about love
If you'll say I do

A ring that sparkles
A ring that shines
A dress in white
A starry night

This is just another story
About a boy and girl
How fell in love
And had their

Happily Ever After

You're a **** I watered until you overcame me

Last night
I fell asleep
imagining my arms
wrapped around you,
thinking of how sweet
your sleepy kisses
would taste.
Last night
was the first night
in over three weeks
that I slept soundly.

My parents tell me to stop bringing misfits home.

Stray cats, lost dogs, lonely people.

Anything sad in the neighborhood, sad in my sight, I bring home with me.

The poor teenagers up the hill, the stoners dazed by the lake, the girls with broken souls and the boys with broken minds. Survivors of all kinds of abuse find refuge with me.

I carried an orange cat home one day, I found him walking around a construction site. He was fed and given something to drink, and we found his owner.

A puppy only a few weeks old, eyes still closed, deathly ill. We bottle fed it and took it to the vet, but it was too late. She said she had a damaged spine and wouldn't make it. I stroked her head as she stopped breathing.

I brought a schizophrenic boy home and helped him through an attack in our living room, while my parents sat horrified in the kitchen.

No less than three girls have cried on my shoulder in the safety of my bedroom, traumatized by rapes they didn't know how to talk about.

These strays, these wounded souls....These are my people. I love them all.

So when they say "stop bringing such damaged things home" it breaks my heart.

And I do it anyways.

You leave the smell of *** and cigarettes behind on my skin and it's hurting me, it's stinging my nose and choking me everytime I breathe and my head hurts, my heart hurts because your eyes are so beautiful but you're ******, you kept whispering that you loved me but it hurt and my parents hate you and all my friends hate you but I don't hate you, I want to keep you.

she roamed in the pale moon light
only so no one noticed the physical scars
that bandaged her broken heart

all your cigarettes
there's smoke in your soul
i swear you're asking for death
(more than the rest of us)
I have words inked in my bloodstream
you have them inked on your skin
you're WALKING ART babe but
art doesn't die