The alcohol had drained out of my system but my body felt like a train had collided with it, but trust me, this wasn't a hangover. This was my eyes being to heavy to open because I knew when I woke, you wouldn't be in my line of vision. This was my lips being on fire and they craved your lips to put out the flame again. This was the knots in my hair that only your fingers running through my scalp could untangle. This was last nights make up streaming down my face but I couldn't fix it because without you to wipe away my tears, what was the point? This was the fact that I spent hours of my day on the bathroom floor because my heart was shattered, my lungs were dry and my ribs were cracked and my stomach craved to be as empty as you made the rest of me feel. This was a lot of things but this  wasn't a hangover. It took the disguise of one though, much like the devil in you disguised it's self as an angel, so I'll let everyone believe it was just a bad hangover, nothing a few Advil can't fix. It's so much easier than explaining how my body gave up on me at the same time you did.

I. You told me that you saw the universe in my eyes whenever we stared at each other for longer than six seconds. The universe is infinite and I thought you were comparing it to our love.

II. You fell in love with the way I laughed and acted around you because I reminded you of a rose bud that you planted on your garden. Little did you know, a rose has its thorns and I'm guessing you weren't prepared for that.

III. The first time you looked at me with tears streaming down my cheeks, you blamed me for being so ugly looking. I was cursing myself when you walked out the door and didn't look back.

IV. Months after you left and I was buried deep under the ground, he found me. ***** and covered in mud, he washed me from head to toe. I knew I'd fall for him.

V. He and I had our first kiss on New Year's Eve and he gave me hope more than you ever did. I knew I deserved him.

VI. I saw you walking down the street while I was holding his hand and the next thing I knew, you were screaming so loud I could barely understand what you said. Later, I found out that you were cursing me for being freed by him from where you buried me.

VII. I found a letter by the front door the very next day and all that it said was how the writer could still see the mud on my face and on my back, just like the last time they saw me. I knew the writer was you.

VIII. The night he found out about the letter, he hugged me ever so tightly and he swore he wouldn't let anybody harm me. Let the Power above dealt with the problem.

IX. I'm happier than ever now that I know I have someone whom I can hold on to. I don't even see any mud on my face; it is you who's covered with dirt the most.

Everything is cracking,
Splintering and crumbling.
Underneath me.
My eggshell of an existence,
lost its life,
when the child within,
grew up.

Procrastination,
My fair lady,
Why must you compel me
To worship you
When I have so many and so urgent things to do?
Fine. So maybe it is not your fault.
So I'm just lazy. Okay.
But you are so tempting.
Lulling me away
from so many chores
(Or a death by boredom - who can really tell?)
Sometimes you offer me the prettiest of pictures,
Sometimes the funniest of videos,
Other times merely my bed and the ceiling,
But more often books.
Beautiful, beutiful books.
So why should I scold you
For taking my time
When those are the hours
I most lovely spent?

You cant save my life
I am drawn
drawn in my own pain

You cant make me happy
I am covered
Covered with my own grief

You cant read me
I am written in the paper
damped by my own tears