Another year without you,
Seventeen years of no kisses at midnight
and counting.

I can hear you crying through the walls,
the muffled, choking of your feelings.
you're falling apart before my very soul,
and all I can do is knock on your door.

Tears are water to the soul,
and yet I seem to overwater it.
I must have misread the info booklet
on how to keep it thriving,
and instead burnt it along
with the pictures of us.

She was my nightmare
dressed as a wish,
and still, I let her kiss me,
and steal my heart.

My chest seems too tight to be true,
because all I seem to see is you,
so when he cries into your chest,
or when you smile my way,
I hope you know I held the gun
to the temple of my head
before today.
I hope they believe when they see the news,
that loving him killed you,
how death kissed your breast
and held your hands,
called you his lover
so you could kiss him back.
I pray you cry in the grave,
scratching at the lid of (y)our coffin,
and that you look over and see my eyes,
looking at you.
They're piercing, aren't they?

I'm telling you,
that if you feel an inkling that they are violent,
they make you scared,
they threaten you,
isolate you,
if they will love you to death
and not the romantic sort of love-you-to-death,
the scary, dark, horror-fueled death,
the one that makes your hair stand on edge when they enter a room sort of death,
leave you walking on egg-shells death,
their voices are glass covered in glitter death,
if they are your father, mother, step-dad, sister, best friend, roommate
anything or more,
leave.

They aren't worth your life.