I wished on every first and fallen star for your existence.
When I had you, I let the starts rest.
When I lost you, I called to them again.
I will wish until the last star burns out, to hold you in my arms once more.

A cure. This ailment. Silence. Forced pleasantries. Mumbled spite. More pleasantries. Feigned ignorance. Disapproving looks. Sever. This ailment. No cure.

I know not every girl has a 'break up' box.
I know I do.

It's full of useless pieces of paper.
Movie tickets.
Parking receipts.
Itineraries.

It's full of meaningless pieces of junk.
A broken bracelet.
A sad Domo figure.
A bottle.

Useless. Meaningless.

They meant so much to me.
As did you.

That parking ticket was the last thing I got before you broke me.
That bottle was the last thing your lips touched before you left.
That bracelet you won for me at a pub quiz.
That movie ticket marked the first time you held my hand.

And now, I look at this box.
One that held so much pain.
I wish I could say I feel better, now.
But,
I feel...
Nothing.

I don't feel the need to be entertained.
I just enjoy your proximity.

And even with your unmeaning insulting,
I just feel the need to impress.

No pressure.

I don't feel the need to be adored.
I just like when you talk to me.

And even with your condescending intelligence,
I just feel the need to impress.

No pressure.

I don't feel the need to always touch, taste, kiss, and hold you...

No pressure.

You asked me to marry you.
I thought you were joking
The days I want that question to be true,
Are the days I practice signing my new last name.

You asked me to marry you.
I still think you're joking.
The times I wish my fairytale could be true, are the times we spend countless hours talking.

You asked me to marry you.
I...don't know if you're joking.
But the adventures we could have, and the love I could give you would be endless.

You asked me to marry you.
I said yes.

If I knew you were still in love with someone else.
Yet you told me time and time again how much you actually loved me.
My heart would break.

If I told you I was still in love with someone else.
Yet told you time and time again how I actually loved you too.
Would your heart break like mine?

What if it's true?
What if your heart isn't mine.
What if my heart isn't yours.

Stars.
Falling like "fire"
Would be cheap.
Stars,
I believe are of
A secret nature.
So old.
So wise.
They'd tell you
All the things
You never wanted
To hear.
You never understood,
But they were your stars.
So you listened.
And then
You fell.
And their words became
Truth.
Your pain
Supernova.
Your pain
Blinding explosive.
Your pain.
Their pain.
And you knew,
Now
Stars were not for
Childish wishes.
Stars were yours.
When some say;
"You have stars in your eyes."
You know.
The story.
The pain.
The wisdom.
Now when they fall,
Race across the sky,
You fall too.

I listen.
Not well.
But I can hear you.

I killed you.
Old, pathetic,  feeble.
You held me back.

I learned to jump.
Be wild, dive in.
Ignoring the warnings
From my memories.

I became better.
Because you were dead.

That person I was.
Me. I had killed me.
The echo of past.
The dull roar of present.

I should have known better.

You can only silence,  
Never ****.

You made me lose
Myself in order to get
Away from you.

Now...

I listen.
Not well.
But I can hear you.

All I can say is that I like your face, and I like it a lot.
And you've got that.
And me.
And I'm here.
For you.
You have me.

Like.
Is when your heart races.
Like a comet across the night sky.
It mirrors the fire of your passion,
And the ice of lonely fear.

Lust.
Is when your thoughts,
Like ***** smoke wind through lungs,
Mirroring your desire to devour.

Adore.
Is when little touches stop you in a thought.
Fingers intertwined,
Mirror the fingers of feelings,
Wrapping slowly around a heart that is scared.

Love.
Is when the blank slate of future,
Like a canvas stretched taut,
Mirrors the ache of your stolen heart.

"You begin to wonder how you've changed."

I'll be honest. It took me by surprise. The words, not the lack of action. I already knew that. I used to be okay with the way you were. I justified it. I 'understood' that you'd had it rough. I made excuses and exceptions  I can't do that for you any more  I won't do that for you.

I've loved you since the day we first talked. I knew then. I still know now. The amount of times I wish I'd never met you, still don't outweigh the tears I've cried. You do this to me. To us.

The amount of times you apologize...I...

You tell me things. No longer do I hear them for what they are. I see them for what you wish they would mean to me. But I can't hear you. I won't.

I have accepted.

I have come to terms.

I know that 'I deserve better!' and 'You're not worth it.' Yet...I still, and stupidly still, think the opposite. I'm oppressed by you. By the thought of you. By the idea of you.

I want out, sometimes. Other times, I never want you to leave.

I know what's wrong with me, and I know what's wrong with you. You don't think I get it. Oh how wrong can one be?

I love you.
I have.
I will.



"And if I have a chance, would you let me know...?"

I never asked you to say you loved me
I never asked for you to tell me
That I'm the one who makes it all better
When you are the one who makes me bitter

I'm so amazing and you mean it
I'm so delightful and you see it

But the one you see
Isn't really me you like

I never asked you to say I'm lovely
I never asked for you to be there
Yet I'm the one who'll make it all better
When you're the one who'll make me so bitter

I'm the perfect one you don't see
I'm the right one you cannot find

And you never see
What you've done to me, and us

You've never heard me say I loved you
And though it breaks me every day
You are the one who makes my life better
And I will risk my heart to be bitter


I'll never know if you mean what you say
And I don't know if I want to

I don't want to talk to you.
Ever.

You may think I care.
Think I want to hear your problems.

Think again.

Silence.

You should try it.
You should.

Where is the mystery?
You share everything.

Now, I need not discover who you are.
You've told me.

Like a good book just started,
You showed me the last page.

And ruined it,
Ruined yourself.

I turn away.
Because you hold no spark for me.

And you never will.

See?

Because I don't share,
You chase me to the ends of the earth.

Because you want to know.
Why?

Silence.

I'm sorry.
I don't want to go to the beach
This afternoon.

You see,

Sun and I are not on good terms.

He's burned me in the past.
And while
It breaks my heart,
I've moved on.

His name is Moon.

He get's me.

He's softer,
Not harsh like Sun.
He's solemn,
Not obnoxious like Sun.

So we can go to the beach,
I guess...
But can we go
Tonight?

Bleary eyes, blink.
Foggy mind, reels.

Getting vertical,
Push curtians aside.

Clouds like ghosts
Obstruct
Any futile hope of a foreign
Sun.

No on will walk in the
Rain.
No one will marvel at the
Clouds.

But one...

Tousled hair, shake.
Bare feet, steal.

Relish
In the dull light of the
Day.

Corners turned.
Chapters closed.
Keys to locks no longer
Functioning.

Missing links.
Minds connected.
Tapping over ports and
Oceans.

Windy cities approaching.
Rainy cities receding.
Swapping sleet for snow.

Heart. | Breaks, mourns, weeps.
Hands. | Tangle hair, clench papers, cover face.

Far, long, apart.



Don't forget.










Please.

I have but one fear,
The witty, striped, Cheshire cat.
His many teeth frighten .

He becomes still air.
I want to weep all night long.
Go away foul cat.

His smile still lingers.
As does his laughing, fading.
Why must you taunt me?

The taunting won't end.
I tear my ears out, oh oww.
I'm turning it off.

there are 2 different kinds of lovers.
the first;
they love until their hearts bleed out.
the second;
they let the other person put in the effort and time and enjoy it.

the first usually fall for the second.

it would be amazing for two firsts, or two seconds to find each other.

never, it seems is this the case.

there are those who come right out and say they like you...... firsts.
there are those who hide behind moving vans and run from you in crowded rooms...... seconds
there are those afraid of breaking hearts......firsts
there are those afraid of getting theirs broken......seconds.
there are those who find no reason to stay......firsts
there are those who find no reason to leave......seconds

the world is divided between firsts and seconds.

why must the firsts fall for the seconds?

who ever truly taught us how to love?

Stop,
Sending me letters saying you care.
Stop,
Leaving me messages saying that you love me.
Stop,
Checking up on me saying; "You're worried.".

I,
Don't care about the words you write
To make yourself feel less guilty.
I,
Don't care about the fake pain in your voice you use
To make me feel guilty.
I,
Don't want to pack my bags
For that needless guilt trip.

Stop,
It won't work.
I,
Won't come back.

I thought
Everything was wonderful.
Infallible.
I lived my life with a blindfold
I didn’t
Know where to go without it.

I thought all would be well.
I thought someone would
Come rescue me
From this
Hell of a life.

I thought
Maybe
I loved you.

But feelings change
True colours fade
And black and white
All turns to gray
And I though
Different than I knew.

Where do we find solace?
Where do we
Find reading nooks
Filled with books
That we love
More than friends?

I know
That everything was messed up.
I’m aware
Of all my faults and fears
Irrational and fears inevitably,
Controlling life,
And all those
Feelings.

I know
That my world was shattered,
When you cut the chord.
And like glass,
Shards pierced my heart
And I am
Bleeding from the soul.

I know
That I did not
Love you.

Were do we find solace?
Where do we find
Puddles deep
Enough to splash
Sorrow away?

Let go.
Fall away
From all the concepts
You were told to
Follow.

Drift away.
Let the strings
That
Attach
You to this life
be clipped.

Succumb.
Forget what once was
And find what will be.

If you can't climb
Out of the dark
Hole
That is your life,
Fall.

Fall.
Back in
To the dreams
You left.
There
You will be safe.

Loved.
Wanted.
Happy.

Find that flower.
Blast away,
All the parts
Wishes
Are made
Of. . .