and here's what you missed on the pathetic melancholy of me,
she hasn't looked me in the eye since friday
and im swallowing my spite
every impulse is screaming at me to lash out
take him
hurt her
a warpath of destruction that knows no bounds
but that story has been played
six or seven times now
i can't afford to slip again

No day will be heaven,
if I don't find a problem I will cause one.
My emotions are oceanic-
unpredictable at best.
I don't speak well,
and don't think before.
I don't know if I can fully love you.
I can be obsessive and distant at the same time.
Physical contact is sometimes suffocating,
blame that on drunk men,
and I'm apathetic.

god i was so young
i'm looking back on old photos
and there's a glint in my eye i didn't notice
a small hope that you felt the same way
you'd break my heart but only briefly
always at your beck and call
my hair was vibrant and purple
and too many freckles to count
i don't pine for you anymore
just old me and the time we lost

its hard to describe
that melted n burning wax on my fingers feels like christmas
and fruitshoots smell like mcdonalds
and the way that pez tastes like someones house
or that pig from winnie the pooh

It's a promise they make to you.
Just after you do it.
When your lungs are freshly pumped,
and your wrists bandaged up.

The age old lie,
"It get's better, give it time."

How much time must I give to you?
You insistent slime.
How dare you claim to have an answer,
when there was no question at all?
Only a solution.

I wrote my oath in my blood and scarred my skin,
in my meek desperation to find something.
Anything!
I've cursed my organs and raptured my throat.
If I dare let myself think about it, then I can still
taste the bile I swallowed.

And yet. Still.
I am here.
I have been cursed to wander this world for eighteen years now,
and not one thing I have found has given me my answer.

It's not a sign, It is a burden.

i find it hard to love
the girl in the mirror
grotesque in every form
not from my iris
but from yours
your own child
agape spun of lies
raised out of spite
strangers by blood
words said with a smile
leaving a bitter taste

Nothing stings me more,
or swells the bile deep within the pit
more than the realization
that i can never be sure of anything.
I don't know you, or her or anybody.
If I drop a penny I can't be certain it will land.
I desperately want control, yet I won't ever have it.

all i ask
is when you see my weep
turn away
pretend it's not happening
the embarrassment i'm feeling out ways that of yours

when i'm angry walk away
let me vent and scream and cry
leave me alone
i will always come back to you

when i'm panicked don't touch me
don't communicate or look at me worried
it's okay to leave me and ignore
i will never hold it against you

the harsh jab of an intrusive needle,
nor the empty space which darkness brings,
nor a giant of the sea
opening up and stealing me away.
how can i place fear in such material objects,
when my mediocrity and lonesomeness
haunts my waking moments?

is it selfish of me to want to go through my depression alone?
you took my mental health into your own hands
intruded without my consent
you always talked about my burden upon you
which you placed on yourself
you only heard me speak and never listened
your ignorant filter blocking out my pleas
when the thin and wiry strands on your head turned grey
you blamed me, and i blamed myself

when you got into a relationship of your own
i'll admit it was hard for me to let go
but i tried
and it was unfair that my temper often turned sour
when you bragged about your healthy relationship with a bigot
but i tried
you tried to place jealousy into my anger
over him taking your time
when in reality, it was my neutrality which truly upset you

i was sixteen when i decided that
i needed to be a big girl and make my own choices;
codependency never suited me, i'm an archer at heart.
i kept a secret affair from you
not out of spite, you never crossed my mind
but simply because i wasn't ready to tell you
that was my choice.
you took that from me.
now i've always been a bad liar
it's lost its effect at this point
but as my friend i would have expected you to respect that
turn away, let sleeping dogs lie.
give me a month and i would have come to you
you took that from me.
your screaming voice still haunts me
but not as much as her teary eyes and the aftermath that followed.

guess what? i lied again
and you knew, again.
it wasn't me who had the second chance, rather you
be a good friend
i'm begging you to turn away
but, of course, you didn't.
my relationship shattered (or at least it appeared too)

my actions turned fox-like
we met, we smoked, we fell in love again.
5 or 6 times that summer at least.
i'm not sure you knew but i don't care anymore.
yes, the relationship failed
but guess what?
it ended on my own terms.
the liberation of that was inexplicable.

i still see you sometimes.
we take the same bus and its unavoidable
i still sneak around even though my need for that charade
ended a long time ago
and i suppose you still hold the world on your shoulders
no one asks you to but still you persist
we're just strangers now
and i can truly say from the deepest pits of my heart
that losing you as a friend will always be my happiest memory.

I'm not an emotional woman.
I cry scarcely and secretly,
but there's something to be said
about seeing the rain
for the first time in years,
that truly and utterly
moved me to tears.

If I clean my room, then I
can allow myself to be
happy.
But, at the end of the day
I'm just a sad girl
sad in a very large room.

I'm shaking as I go down to meet you
and I don't like to see you in chains.
I know, I know.
Shh, listen-
It isn't time yet...
I need more time.

I know my efforts are fruitless in the end,
because the chains were never locked.

You met me in brown,
knew me through red
and i suppose you favoured purple.
Black and green came and went- but you never really saw those,
and brown was temporary again.

And the stinging is worth it,
to be a colour you never met.

you can tell because my wrists are healed
no marred scar now.
except,
you've noticed an influx in inhalation
in regards to tar in my lungs,
as well as a freshly pinked scalp
from where the hair is white.
you've noticed i pause when near the road
or comment on architectural structure without prompt.

i am getting better because my wrist is healed
but i'm getting worse because my actions are subdued.

you are the only person i feel i must apologize to,
for you were noble and kind for the duration.
I can't think of any sour words against you;
yet I salted the earth around us,
tarnished your name in our world by
speaking such ill and false tales.
I invoked such torrid guilt to stir within you,
and my only excuse could be my own twisted enjoyment.
To me you were a toy, yet to her you are the world.

Was probably the biggest lie I told myself.
That its normal to feel uneasy
at words unspoken,
and it's okay not to trust your partner.
Because it shouldn't matter that there are bad parts,
as long as there are small goods.

But it's all a lie.
I want to feel safe and secure and loved above all,
and it should not be conditional on my submission.
I want to be a person who is silly and laughs without fear
or withdrawal.
Because it's not commitment I was afraid of,
It was you.

back when we were fourteen
the heat blazing outside
and that stupid game was still popular
i'd lie on your lap
you'd rest your controller on my head
mine on my stomach
my chemical romance blasting in the background

it's not hyperbolic to say
that i will not be missed.
When the dust settles, and the fae hide between them;
when the fire burns out to ash-
no. I won't be missed.

Whether it stings or collects honey,
it is always a bee.
And you are a bee.

To grow is to develop,
as we all do with age.
A seed becomes a flower, a tadpole into a frog.
But you, you are a bee.

Yes, I'm denying your change.
Because to change is to show and you only
seem to tell.
To tell me, of all people, you've grown.

A bee is still a bee,
whether it stings or not.

two spoonfuls and a dash of honey
it changes but its this for now
my only dependency
and it isn't even sentient

i have rough days quite frequently
and it's nice to come home to the bitter
yet homely taste

every detail is etched in my brain
the sense of entrapment following my school teachers
dear old mum was there too
surrounded in a sense
the photographs were placed in front of me
dread soaking my (so far) untainted lungs
i admit it was me

the car journey was awful
cheery songs plague through the seats and i let the tears flow freely
**** the hospital for being so far
sympathetic glances are shot my way
and i hate each and everyone of them
i get several prep talks about my existence but all i can focus on
is my stupidity of getting caught
and my burning hatred for you

monday rolls around and i am released
more glances and harsher whispers
i don't know who told and i don't care
"is it true?" *******
you don't care about what i would have done,
you just need new gossip

their idea of help isn't helpful
years of bottling doesn't get fixed by kind words or well meanings

the torment worsens
yet i get punished for biting back

i like the danger of hard boiled sweets
something so sweet and innocent
has the capability to cease my breathing
and turn me violet
i'm too old to cut myself
or cry in the teachers office when i feel blue
so i **** these sweets
and hope i choke

i daren't even ask how it came
that my body and soul may be thrown across the sea.
yet i know this isn't the first time
in a life previous you hurt me too

I held the moon in my hands today,
and I wept a little.
He asked me,
"you do you weep?"
and we shared the burdens of the world.
Mister Moon is not wise,
but he is reliable.

how can i be in love with someone who put me in the hospital
who told the entire world my deepest secret
tormented me for years
convinced me i was delusional
and broke my heart more times than counted

the sole reason for my fear of abandonment
pressured me to commit to something i didn't want
blamed me when it went wrong
yet still continues to fluctuate into my life.

the fact i still let you in speaks volumes of my
apparent hatred for myself

From my fathers stomach,
untimely ripped
did you cast your eyes upon me.
Betrothed by blood and you beat your wings
against my breast
to steal from me my youth.
My consent was reaped with guilt,
yet dare i ask fidelity from you?

You foresaw your brothers actions,
mimicking our romance
stealing youth again and providing
a queen for all dare enter.

She was younger than I,
summoner of spring.
A babe that still begged for a mothers touch,
Oh her mother!
The soul that even the sun cast out...

In my mind
you are in my arms
loving me without thought
but you aren't you
and i am alone.

darling, let's not bicker tonight.
hold my hand for just an hour longer
and we can waltz around this edge.
you shan't tempt me tonight,
although my defense is slipping.
why don't we kiss away the light
tonight,
and step into the dark?

i often laugh about it with friends
how absurd some of the scenes can be
the bizarre and the taboo
even the funny ones at times
when we are young we are taught
of how *** is nothing but intimate
and serious (and deadly)
yet in this modern age,
we find sitting on a cone will do
or dressing as a spider and perusing your prey
is just the bee's knees

I've was hung up on you when i was fourteen
you used to show up in cat ears
and band tee's and that stupid short hair
countless nights i dreamt of you
and that carried on until about 2 months ago
when i fell asleep and dreamt of someone new
a boy with strange eyes and a crooked smile
I've moved on and yet i feel im cheating

I could not hold Salvont
in the same way I clutched the moon.
Instead he asked me for knowledge
and my intention of my placement.
It's easy to ignore Salvont,
as I can simply step away.

For the first time, in a long time
I lost myself.
no, no. Not lost...
Indulged myself.

How foolish of me to think that it was you
who was red
Ha!

It's not lust or love that surrounds you,
but rather the pure, unfiltered wrath
which engulfs and consumes me.

I do believe I have found a new mistress,
and I am loving the red.

I want to tear you off,
cauterize the wound,
and never think of you again.
How dare barbarism overcome
something that has grown upon me?
Turned from child into tumor.
One part of my body I actually
had grown to appreciate,
soiled by a sober man
to a drunk teenager.

My sweet darling,
How i have watched the years praise you,
blissful for 68 turns.
It breaks my old heart to watch you wither.
Your still beautiful skin is lined and deep,
and your breath is leaving fast.
Oh, how i long to preserve you!
Alas, it is now your time,
and i must step back once, now and forever.
I can't wait to see you again.

if i cared enough
about you
or the way you think about me
perhaps i'd choose a better
synonym
for our love
but you don't deserve that
and neither do i

will the love of my life even want me?
to say I am a late bloomer would be
understating it, slightly.

do I even want me?
how can I morally give myself to someone,
and force that burden on them.

I've always been a flight risk

a girl who should not have seen
the turn of her 16th birthday
is facing the consequences
of actions chosen for her
and now she waits 6 days
maybe less maybe more

I had never kissed you with such passion
you had remarked later on whilst i lay on your chest.
It was so different,
had something changed?
I smiled and shook it away
too timid to tell you that you tasted of nicotine
and i had given up.

so i'm sat there
purposefully ditsy
i've perfected my laugh to be two octaves higher
my hair unnaturally straight
belly trapped and contained for now
red marks flushed against the milky white of my skin
caused by wires and hidden my clothes
but still you don't look at me

soon enough i give up
my mane is let lose
i allow my stomach to breathe and fold over
overgrown and bushy in all senses of the word
(not as a personal choice i may add, simple sloth)
the hazel in my hair now stripped and yellow
my laugh lands deep and guttural, somewhat ******

you tell me i changed and i scoff
you expect me to envy the boy who never changed?
same laugh same weight same personality
no development except for new purple haze
a drug on which your entire identity
i'd laugh if i felt anything more towards you than pity

taking pity on the drunk girl
lying on my lap
begging me to kiss her
spewing on my leg
so i sit with you
your eyes are closed
resembling a rather large and ugly baby
you beg me to call you attractive
and i am revolted as you crush me
but i hold it in
call you pretty
speak of a fictional crush i supposedly have on you
which you probably remember
but i remember the ***** in your hair

didn't i?
did the lose and poorly hidden notes deceive you?
did the open jar of pills go neglected?
did the overt staring make you blind?
no?
shall i go more blunt?

did the frequent crying fits appear normal?
and the ice rink of my wrist?
was the isolation of it all a part of growing old?
no?
shall i go more blunt?

did the words,
"I think i might need serious help, I am not doing so well."
seem casual in prompt?
or
"April 29th is a rather nice day."
slip over your mind?

dare you ask me
"why didn't you ask for help?"
when not one person turned to listen.

your rationality makes me want to scream out blue
and throw sickles towards your already minted jacket
the world is bouncing
higgledy-piggledy
yet somehow you keep you feet firmly on the mountainous hills
ignore my pleas for the outer world
to stop blowing bubbles and snap them in half
or cause a sensation in a pool of tar
it must be exhausting to be unruly and rational

Seasons come and go,
years float by
and the earth keeps on turning.
But for me to grapple with the fact
that I am no longer sixteen
and hopelessly, desperately in love
or how I am no longer 14 and
believing myself to be immortal,
is much, much harder then I ever thought
it would be.

or unnecessary pasta in my opinion
but who am i to argue with you
in my mind i know we have gallons back home
and will probably have more coming
still, you wanted to go to the shop.

we walked past the isle several times now
i don't have the energy to mention it
you'll only snap
you grab a bag more and throw it in the trolley
oblivious to the three bags already there
penne galore

it happens maybe once, maybe twice a month
when we actually eat the pasta
so i try not to let it build up
but you always insist we need more

at this point in my life
you're more of an obsession than a love
no
not obsession
addiction
like a ritualistic inhalation of smoke just to feel dizzy
i'm at peace
with how i don't love you
now it's just a habit

so you're sat in your car
dope coursing through your veins
or not, i neither know nor care
and you notice a girl across the road
ageless probably
all you know is she is built like a woman
and that is enough

so you roll down your window
smirk across at your friends
knowing glances shoot between you
"hey lady!" you roar
"give us your number then!"

so she ignores you
your masculinity scorned
ignorant rage replaces the dope
hurling abuse is all you know so you throw it
you also throw a can for good measure
how dare she ignore your compliments?

i dare not stare in the mirror
to look at the girl who loved
another girl who loved
to hurt and use and lie.
The girl in my reflection is branded with
those awful words you spoke to me;
"You are the great love of my life."
Oh, how i wish i could start you a new life
away from me.
You're a habit at this stage,
each time I think,
"Oh Maybe She's Changed?"
until that ****** temper flares up
mine or yours, take your pick.

not so intense my heart hurts
in fact my heart doesn't react at all
home isn't with you but i enjoy your company
if a bullet flew i wouldn't jump
nor lay down my coat on a strangely deep puddle
but you let me rest my head on your shoulders
that's enough