I wanna write something,
so ****** it’s bad.
Something when you read,
you get so ******* mad.

I wanna touch on those insecurities,
that only I knew about.
I wanna push all those buttons,
till your crying out loud.

I wanna curse you,
tell you that I hope you’re miserable.
I wanna break you down,
till your a pile of dribble.

I want to rage at you,
and put a hole through the wall.
I want to scream at you till,
you feel ******* small.

sigh

I want to tell you I love you,
even through it all.
I want to do all these things,
cause I feel two inches tall.

I want to tell you I’m sorry,
and that it’s ok,
and that I still think about you,
and wonder if you’re happy today.

I wanna look in your eyes,
to see if the grass was greener after all.
And if it turns out it wasn’t,
I’d tell you not to feel small.

I want to give you advice,
and to re-know your heart.
I want all the things,
that we had from the start.

I’m a walking contradiction,
with that I’m on terms,
but I guess I never stopped loving you,
through the crashes and burns.

*sigh

I asked you a question,
but you ignored what I said.
Choosing to belittle,
and ridicule instead.

Anything,
is better,
than nothing,
at all.

The question was serious,
and I know you knew that.
I shouldn’t have put it out there,
but now I can’t take it back.

I laid awake,
imagining your answer.
A million scenarios ran,
each one better.

I built it up,
like I always do.
The picket fence dream,
with the rocking chairs too.

What I didn’t expect,
was a change of subject.
I realize now,
that’s a form of reject.

I’m sorry for asking,
for putting you on the spot,
but you could have just told me,
instead, you did not.

Paging Dr. Jekyll ,
he’s gotten lose again.
No, no casualties yet,
just a long trail of sin.

Yes, we understand,
control’s not the issue.
I think it’s time for drastic measures,
yes, you know what to do.

What do you mean,
he’s part of your mind?
It doesn’t matter at this point,
he’s too dangerous alive.

**** him dear friend,
or the blood’s on your hands.
He’s hurting people,
and that simply won’t stand.

He’s a monster, a freak,
you’re much better off.
There will be side affects,
but nothing’s gained without loss.

Hello? Dr. Jekyll?
Are you there? Is it done?
Oh God Dr. Jekyll,
what have you done?

Listening to the rain,
patter on the windshield.
So soothing, and sad,
my heart becomes chilled.

Memories of rain,
bring back memories of you.
Things I never forgot,
but it brings regret too.

Tip tip, tip tap,
remember that storm?
Tip tip, tip tap,
you were blessedly warm.

The windows open,
the rain pouring outside
You on top of me,
the lightning in your eyes.

That was our first time together,
hell, your first time at all.
Slowly grinding in time,
to each raindrops fall.

It was electric, and exciting,
and I knew I loved you then.
Your hand on my chest,
and that beautiful grin.

It’s no surprise really,
why I love the rain.
Because it holds that memory,
and absolutely no pain.

It was beautiful, and romantic,
and perfect in every way.
Almost thirteen years ago,
and the memory never fades.

So thank you, my dear,
for that gift that you gave.
Not just the gift of you,
but the memory of rain.

I wonder if you know,
that I used to watch you sleep.
Not in a weird way,
not being a creep.

Just watching,
your head on my chest.
Running my fingers through your hair,
and trying to match each breath.

Do you know that your lip,
does this cute, pouty thing?
Or that you’d sometimes giggle,
at what seemed like nothing.

It was always then,
that our future seemed clear.
No worries, or arguing,
simply no fear.

I think watching you sleep,
was when I loved you best.
Both of us smiling,
and two hearts at rest.

I’d give anything,
to hear that giggle again.
Or to feel your soft breath,
whisper on my skin.

Just ******* bleh.
****.

What is that sound?
tick tick, tick tock.
It’s really quite odd,
I don’t own a clock.

It’s ninety one past thirteen,
wait, that can’t be right.
Time for another pill,
medicinal light.

Just smile, and nod,
until your cheeks hurt.
Now laugh, pull it back,
compliment their new shirt.

It’s orange, no it’s red,
**** what is that hue?
What do you mean it’s white?
It’s ******* pastel blue.

Now throw out a joke,
and some proper context.
Good job, you failed,
like an impotent sext.

You’re talking too loud,
oh Jesus, shut up.
How much have you drank?
Really? One cup?!

Finger guns now,
and a smooth exit we go.
Ya that wasn’t awkward,
you nailed it, fo sho.