I want to rip you apart
until you are merely fragments of human
ripped and vulnerable
then I could finally tell you
how I feel
about you
about us
about the way I strive for us to exist together
in this lonely universe.
I would glue you back
piece by piece
carefully and slowly
making sure you are still just as perfect
as you were before.
but I know that no matter what
you will be
you make my heart sing pure joy
just by the look you give to me
the sensation of your warm hands on my skin
nothing could make me feel more secure
even since the first time I saw you
my soul was awakened
I was given a purpose
to fall in love with you.
you don't love me though
and you never will.
I am nothing to you
just a foolish female
who will give you anything you desire
that is my own fault,
not yours
I have let myself lust for you
too many times
and now I am stuck
craving your presence and voice
your affection and promises
I know I am a sucker for you
and I am not sure
if I will ever not be

Stores, they sell ripped jeans—
profiting off of damage
just like us poets.

(The page is torn on the left alignment)

...And then they would place their pistols beneath their chins and pull the trigger. I would see it as some cylindrical spatter of blood escaping from the tops of their heads, like over exaggerated gore from the adult movies. So what would happen next for them exactly? Blackness? No. That is still something. Perhaps just empty. No. Can't be. Empty has potential to be filled, rendering it not quite nothing. I suppose it would be like before you were born. Do you remember it?

I am quiet.
The silence I favor,
but not the one that dams every thought
that bubbles around our heads.
I'd like to rip it apart,
but I'll drown from the ripped quiet dam.
That silence I don't favor.
I am quiet again.

I feel alone
But don't know why
I don't even know if it's feeling alone
Or the frustration of not knowing
What I'm
Feeling
People always saying things like
"You look sad"
"What's wrong"
"You just aren't being yourself"
THEN WHO THE **** AM I BEING?
Because I act like myself
And no one likes it
Then I act how you want
And everyone loves me
Then there's people's actions
A gift meant for me
Given to another
I hug I need not ask for
Not given at all
So maybe I feel this way
Because I don't know who I am
Stuck between two worlds
Two lives
Only to be ripped apart
By the people I'd like to call
'My Friends'

Feel it surround you
Laminated in silence
Crushed by the moment
Gone in the presence

Savored to a blank state
Ripped to a seam
Slapped by a wonder
Never in a gleam

It is but time
Hidden and above
Deaf to an ear
Crushed by the love

I won't tell you that you ripped my heart out because I would be lying.
I can still feel my heart and it feels sick to its stomach and I know that isn't possible,
but hey
you used to say that it wasn't possible that your love for me would ever cease.

the slits on the wrist make pits void of flesh that is now ripped. **** whats happened to kids. instead of opening vanes open your heart and pour it out to someone you trust. i express this with your best interest in mind find someone who’s ears are funnels and let your soul out. cuts on the wrist won’t release you from these demons that taunt you it will only further haunt you.