Do you think of her
The same amount of time as
  Me
If I read for you
Would you be stunned  at my skills ?
If I hit you would you blush ?
Wish I was a little bug in your head
  That tells me the truth

What was the
Scariest moment
In your life?

I remember mine
Vividly

It was late
I couldn't sleep
Thoughts ran through my head
Horrible thoughts
How I wanted to die
And why

I climbed out of bed
And crept down the hall

I slipped into the kitchen
And grabbed a knife

I remember,
I stood outside
For the longest time,
Blade against wrist

I felt the rain stream past me
As tears ran down my face

I knew this was no ordinary cut
I pushed the knife down harder
And said goodbye
But I couldn't do it
I collapsed to the ground
Shaking
Crying

Was I too weak?
Or was I just strong enough?

This was the
Scariest moment
Of my life
Because
It was then that I realized
The true enemy is
*Me

Death makes angels of us all and gives us wings where we had shoulders smooth as ravens claws

I thought I forgot you
I thought I long had you buried
Deep in my memory.
I thought you could no longer haunt me
Like you used to do so often.
I thought I got over you
Until your eyes met mine today,
Once or twice at most and that was about it.

I couldn't look at you,
I couldn't look at you without bursting into tears,
So I burst into laughter instead.
And I suppose that you saw through my fake act.
Anyway...

You were there in your corner,
There in your pedestal,
There in your elegance
Drawing something dangerously beautiful
And you were beautifully dangerous.
And I,
I could only watch you from a distance
And learn to admire you
Without touching you,
Without kissing you,
Or ******* you.

We exchanged a conversation
About random things
You know, like
How it took me about an hour
To take a proper picture of the cat you gave me,
How it tragically died,
How I didn't cry when it died...
But I actually did cry when it died...

You looked all right, seriously.
There in your peaceful world
That I no longer was part of.
There in your artistic mind,
There in your capacity to forget,
There in your tendency to break promises,
There in the awful effect you always have on me.

So you said goodbye
Because you had something to go back to.
I said goodbye
Even though I had nothing to go back to.

We parted ways once again,
Me with your drawing pencil in my bag
And you, you my dear, with a piece of me
Inside your pocket.

I remember you once said forever, but you only lied.
I went home,
I went home and cried.


-- Eleanor

There are so many days.
                  How do I keep track of
                                   what to feel?


I can feel happy,
                 but awful.


Beautiful, but those are the days I tend to cry.
                  and I don't cry beautifully.
There are times I'm an open book,
                  yet so closed up.


Days I feel full of myself,
                  but there are more where I wonder,
                                           "who the **** would want me?"

Maybe I should want me.

My life is a book
But I don't know how to class it.
Horror?
Thriller?
Romance?
Each chapter brings something new,
Not necessarily good
But something new.
I couldn't have guessed
The twists and plots
And how things would end up
For the main characters.
All I know is I can't put the book down,
Even when the reading is painful

our story was never meant to be

It's almost funny;

I performed one action
Metaphorically
And it made me want
To do the same thing physically;

*I fell off the cliff of despair

If the skin on my hands got thinner for every time I let a boy hold them,

I'd be bleeding. Torn to the bone.

If I had kept my hands to myself like a secret, then I could've held you

Without staining you with my past. Now I'm alone,

And I'm sorry. I would offer my shoulder, or the bend of my elbow

But those edges and parts of mine are worn down, too.

I stand in front of you, barely together; a corpse.

I understand why I am not considered at all, but I beg to be healed

Just to be considered by you.