love you a lot,
to see you smile i must stand away.
i want you to be mine,
but my wounds burns when i come to you,
i would sing my lost love for you ,
if you promise that you will stay.
days go as they are just to leave.
seasons spring and fall.
both of us looking each other
and both of us to love.
you made me what i am.
and i gave you the worst.
you were the hand of support
which never falls to trap.
i am scared,
whether that magic will fade from your red lips.
i cold not make it again.
as you always say,
"don't come to me when i die,
because my hand won"t be their to wipe your "TEARS""

irises are blue,
pupils are black
from lover to lover
the colour changes back

baby eyes smile,
light reflects feeling
coming closer to learn
the life of the girl
you are seeing

-c.j.

if you close your eyes it's just like
being in the midst of war
the fireworks puncture the sky
and follow each other without pause,
our final kisses
hurrying to make something beautiful
before we have to go

-c.j.

I find it hard to write these days because I've found that lately, I feel little to no pain.
When I was a shell of a girl, the words flowed so much better from my fingertips.
Now, they come like water from a hose when someone's stepping on it.
I know I should be grateful for my fortune, when all I've known before is hurt, but my newfound joy has ****** my creativity dry.
I guess that this is why I subconsciously try to sabotage my own happiness.
I want to feel pain so I can write again.
I want beautiful words to reflect my lack of self esteem and fear of intimacy.
I want metaphors to bring to life my need to be a starving and broken artist.
The one they romanticise.
The one who makes post traumatic stress disorder look like modern art
Oil on canvas
Scratches on skin from me wanting to shred the spaces where he touched me.
A name of a baby I never had
The apology or closure I'll never receive.
Is that what the people want to read?
Because my happiness just isn't interesting enough

It’s a very funny scene, watching them together,
Knowing he’s mine.
Remembering how his arms felt around me last night;
Watching her feed the baby she made for him
And wondering if one is now growing inside me.
     ^^^^^

Dark and quiet..As I sit here at night.
Not a sound to be heard.
Outside of my memories which cry out
I have tried so hard to communicate
and as the sun , stay bright.
The scenes of people walking out on me or scolding me while I
was at my best...
I hang my head in these hours..
as insomnia cruel beats me to rest.
I have people who tell me what or how I should escape
the nightmares unfolding in my life.
They fail to understand that they are not in my shoes.
Forced ways and forced lessons cuts into me
like a knife.
I wish I could have a middle ground.
Where both in a situation prosper
The other doesn't have to fall.
I feel as if when I try to stand up
rather than lie down and wave a white flag...
Those stubborn souls pound my emotions  like
I'm a soccer ball...
I can run about and meet everyone else's goals..
In the end , the game is out of time.
I have lost that winning point.
I end up losing my place in success' line.
I try to express myself and feel comfort in my own
realistic zones....
The opposing team interrupts my relaxed state..
Only to demand another replay..
Horses to finish a race from the starting gate.
Around and around in a circle they go.
Such in my life...I too...
I seem to run.
Victories lead back to the beginning of the circle..
The others win points and earn the win to be free..
Now the quiet and empty hours in which I sit in the dark
Slowly **** my heart like a wilted flower.
If only I could be allowed to blossom and not have to
Play to win these games...
I wouldn't hold my energies of fear in and simply explode.
Bow I await my destiny for yet another sunrise...
I am almost fearful for what will be the suprise.

there is a room full of clocks ticking in sync
because time has a heartbeat
and places are just different variations of time
time that can be beautiful if we let it

-c.j.