It would seem
That all I ever consider
Are questions
And I never quite get closure
No one offers answers
Especially when I'm too afraid to ask
I don't know what I am
Maybe I'm just making it up
Maybe I'm crazy
Maybe I'm dramatic
Maybe I'm sick
Maybe I'm in a phase
Maybe I'm just broken
But I don't want to ask
Because the answer
Can't possibly be good

It was easy to get lost in you
You were everything I wanted
But through the fabrications of my mind I created a current of falseness
I was washed away by my own reassurance

I felt that I could replace what You couldn't give me

Love

Now I exist
In the skeleton of love
Buried deep where the warmth of you
Can't reach me

The after shocks of your heart beating
For someone else still drives me crazy

You were the budding flowers of spring
Those fragrant flowers I once loved
Now all I know is the foul stench of a rotting tree

You took me
And broke me

Now I have to pick up the pieces
And rebuild Myself

My heart
left my ribcage empty
sick of self doubt
and feeble bones
it went exploring beyond
its comfort zone
leaving me
with just memories
filling a void of
what was once
love

Does love mean
You get to hit me
Stab me with your words
And I don’t make a sound
Does love mean
You make me feel less of me
Does love mean
You use my words against me
Does love mean
To control
Does love mean
Jealousy
Does love mean
Wait for your order
Does love mean
Waiting for you to get your **** together
Does love mean
I have to bit my own tongue
And swallow my own blood
Does love mean
You pretend to be a victim
And I don’t get to notice
Does love mean anything?

I need her to love me,
But I do not want to love her,
I only want her sensation, impermanent.
Oh how sick I have become!

I can't say these words I want to say. They lump in my throat and I am forced to swallow them once again. Why can't I say them? They are just words after all. I can't say them to you or anyone else. Not even a whisper of them to myself. So I keep them locked up in my head where they swirl around making me dizzy. Being dizzy on your own words is the worst kind of dizzy. A fog clouds your mind. In this fog is the words you want to say, along with possibilities of the replies you would get from them. The conversations swirl and swirl until your sick. Sick of the words. Sick of yourself. Sick of the world. Don't swallow your words until your dizzy, sick. Until your head and heart hurts from all that you can't say. All the possibilities of what could be because of those words. Don't become dizzy, sick.

The child coughed as he felt his heart hammer away in his chest. He stared at the window and saw a beautiful lady in a black dress come down from the window. She smiled at him as she knelt by the bed. Softly she whispered, it’s time Henry. She moved her gray hair out of the way as she carried Henry. He looked to the bed and saw himself lying there sleeping. He looked at her puzzled, what about my mommy? She looked at him and smiled sweetly as they started to float to the clouds. Don’t worry Henry, she said kissing his forehead, i’ll come back for her soon.