My friends often say it was close enough
But close enough is just like almost
and close enough...
wasn't enough

We parted ways,
never to see each other,
not to speak again.
It was a healthier way,
happier, less painful.

So tell me why I miss you,
tell me why it still hurts
when I think of you.
My mind wanders at night,
and it hurts the most at 3 AM

It was for the best, wasn't it?

I read somewhere
that we dream in
              Black
          and
white
       So,
           why is it
that my dreams are vivid,
                         and life is dreary,
          only colored with
                              crimson blood stains?

Hiding the hurt, hiding the pain
Hiding the tears that fall like rain
Saying I'm fine, when I'm anything but.
This ache in my soul rips at my gut.
My skin is n fire, I burn from within.
The calm o my face is an on going sin.
The world must stay out, I've built up a wall.
My fragile lie will collapse should it ever fall. Loniness consumes me, it eats away the years.
Until my life is swallowed by unending fears.
Waiting for someone to see I wear a mask. And care too much to remove it, is that too much to ask?
-Katheryn Graham

I want to get so drunk I forget my own name.
The problem is, I think I'd still remember yours.
I've done everything I can to forget you except forget you,
and I don't think it's ever going to work.

It hurts when you leave
I wish you could stay
If only just one more minute
Just one more minute
Of laying next to you
Just one more minute
Of being with you
Just one more minute
Of not feeling alone
Just one more minute
Of looking at your beauty
Just one more minute of bliss

Your absence is nothing
but a reminder
of your missing presence.

A little note telling me
that you're never coming back.
A soft whisper in my ear,
fingers running through my hair,
burning lips on cold skin--
meticulously painting the night sky
in colors unknown to man.

It would have been beautiful,
this thing we used to have.
Except it's now gone,
and all that's left
are bitter hearts and sad poems.

Your tears taste like vinegar;
bitter, angry, unforgiving.
Stare into the fire,
the dancing flame,
the warmth on chilled skin.
Reach out for it,
but never touch.
How did I become such a monster?
I didn't meet her until
the day she died.
I never understood:
This was living;
damaged, empty, alone,
but this was living.