These are things i wrote with an alias
evertime i see her i remember it.
evertime i hear new york i remember what we had
what she felt like
hugging my arm
what it was like when she said she thinks she likes me
admitted it a bit
and then what she said
when she said sorry
and i told her it wasn't her fault
it was mine
and it was mine
because thats what i do
i shouldn't have let that happen
and if i weren't so stupid
as to assume she would enter my world
my perfect world
burning it the world
she would enter it
and she would love me too
like i would love her
I gave up
to every other being
when i realized I loved her
and only her
and that I would want to do anything to protect
even jump infront of a bus
or dive into a pool
I would do it for her to see her safe. and I can't do that
I can't protect her it isn't my job
and she won't let me
and she will go away
and I'll be alone
and she won't remmeber what it is
ad I'll walk aroundhte school
and see her
and she won't say hi
and I'll remember
the stupid things i've done
and how much i miss her
and wish the gun on my dresser were real
so that I could fianlly
once and forall forget
but i would never be able to do it
because I wouldn't let her be the cause of my death
after she was the reason i chose to live
The gun on my dresser is as much a lie as what you had said.
The gun on my dresser is a symbol of my desire.
Sitting in front of me.
Fake, and mocking.
Shiny and cool.
Peaceful, yet holding a world of power in it’s simple manner.
I’ve lost my chance to cry.
It’s been so long since the moment you said what you did.
It’s been so long since I realized the truth.
I talk a big game, and walk a strong stride, but I still can’t seem to even say it out loud.
That we are nevermore.
I’ve lost my chance to cry,
and in price, lost my chance to sleep.
Insomnia without tears.
To The Keeper of Heart,
I thought you might like to know, just before you go and leave me here alone, that you still have my heart. I’m so sorry, but you were right.
You shouldn’t have told me the things I had been dying to hear. The things I pray for every night. The things that gave me the most joy for such a time.
You shouldn’t have fortified my hope, my dreams, my desires.
You shouldn’t have made me happy.
Perhaps you can’t hear my sarcasm, so let me make it clear.
Thank you for that.
But what you shouldn’t have done, was shatter everything that you had built. Everything you gave. Every little thing I held dear.
Have you ever tried walking on glass?
Imagine what it feels like for your world to be nothing but floors of broken glass. Every experience you have is just another room coated in shattered dreams. Every feeling you have stings at the sole, robbing you of anything else you could possibly have but pain.
I’m in pain.
But I still love you.
Could I Make You Cry?
Could I make you cry if I wrote the words of my soul onto the wall of a stall in the bathroom in the place we love to go?
Could I make you cry if I screamed these things at the top of my lungs into the air where everyone who knows you can hear?
Could I make you cry if we spent time in the dark, sitting close to one another, and I whispered my thoughts into your ear?
Could I make you cry if I took your hand and looked in your eyes and breathed everything that has happened, everything i’ve dreamt, everything I think about, everything I write, everything I know, everything I feel, everything I want to tell you to let you understand what it is inside of me that is dying to break free and fly to the sky and just leave me be in peace?
Could I at least make myself cry from all of these things?
I still love you though.
Why isn’t it enough?
So It’s about who I am?
Too much of me?
Too much silence?
Too much change in who I am?
Okay but please remember
I still love you,