When my light begins to fade, And I cannot tell the difference Between the edge of our Sea And that rocky ledge Where old things go When they are called home. In that half-light, Where time splits open And everything that once could fly Embraces the finality Of a perpetual slumber, Know that when everything … Continue reading “You aren’t here anymore, but that doesn’t mean I’m alone. Even though it’s hard, I’m able to keep going with a smile, because of you… Thank you.”
I had the rights words. Sweetling, they were here, Careful carved into The chalky remains Of my soiled soul. The perfect combination, Equal parts desire and guilt, Cloaked in the allure Of a better tomorrow. If you had waited, Just through today, I swear I had it all. If you ever find yourself In … Continue reading “My breath is being forced down my esophagus and into my stomach, where it’s keeping my bubbling guts company as I choke on another dozen pills.”
I prefer sliding doors over the old fashioned 2-3 hinge models. It’s much easier to slam the latter, and while I’ve had my fair share of rage needing an outlet, it never appealed to me as a good way to vent. Why, you ask? Well, to put it simply, I hate the sound. It’s a … Continue reading I’m a big fan of slow Mondays. I feel like everyone is the same, just trying to get things started. It makes me think it’s not too late to start over.
“You say that it hurts to be alone, but you are the one pushing aside your phone when it lights up, ignoring every invite from friends and family to go out or come over. You aren’t making an effort, so can you really say that being alone hurts?” ~It’s not being alone that hurts. I … Continue reading I promised you shelter, but I just realized my heart is full of holes. So maybe I was just using you to plug them up, to make me feel whole…
There are times when we feel as if we can really understand ourselves, far past the point of contradictions and the strong belief that we have a limited sense of self, constricting a personality, now limited to a certain sense of reality; imagination now a poor joke, a small laugh in the corner of society. … Continue reading Walking through life I feel fake. I smile and think I’m faking it. Maybe I am, but probably not, and it doesn’t even matter anymore.