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i'm sitting next to you, snuggling under your arm and basking in all of you. there's something about the way you smell and the way your arm fits perfectly in the nape of my neck that gets me high. i can't concentrate on the movie we're watching because the lines on the palm of your hand are much more intriguing. i trace them all the way down to your wrists and softly brush my finger against the pale pink skin there. my fingers linger a little longer on the scar the rusted razor left when you dragged it along your skin. it was a miracle, a message from god that it didn't get infected. the vibration my phone sends through the couch announces t

She swore she'd never fall in love with a man, but she didn't fall in love with him She fell in love with the way he smells and the way his eyes crinkle when he smiles The way his chest rose and fell with every breath he took and the way he held on a bit longer when he hugged her It wasn't him that she fell in love with, it was the way his hand moulded perfectly into hers and the way he could see past her smile even when it fooled everyone else But the thing she loved the most, the thing that really stood out amongst everything about him, was the way that he fell in love with her The way the words 'I love you' rolled easily off his tongue

I miss you Do you miss me? I ask myself that a lot You say you do, but I have trouble believing you I always have trouble believing what you tell me "I love you." But did you really? "Whatever you cook tastes good." Are you sure? "You're getting better at drawing." You really think so? "You're beautiful." You're lying, right? I always doubt what you tell me None of it could be the truth It's all too good to be true So when it was true, when you did really love me, I let you slip through my fingers And you'd think I'd learn from my mistakes, right? Start to believe what people tell me But I'm a stubborn person I'm a stupid person And I still

I can't write happy poems They come out as bad lies written on good paper If a critic were to read them He would see depression underlining every word My poems reek of death and salty tears The sun may be shining brightly outside But storm clouds are rolling in inside my head The thunder cracks and pulls me away from the world And I'm trapped in this inner world of mine And my poems shine light on what's going on inside Tsunamis and earthquakes are inevitable Chaos and destruction are everywhere With these words I'm trying to paint a picture like a painter I want you to see the bombs going off The debris flying and the earth shaking Cries for

 I come into battle empty handed There's only me, myself, and I Sticks and stones may break my bones But words strike me right in the heart "I don't love you like that anymore." Did you ever really love me like that? I could have sworn I was just a sister Or at the very least, a girl you pitied   I hear the canons erupt all around me The ground is crumbling beneath my feet There are shouts all around me "Do something!" and "Fight back!" In the back of my head I can still hear you You're telling me that lie you've always told me "Everything is going to be alright." I believed you then and I still do There's an explosion in front

No one knows how long she laid at the shoreline with her face looking up towards the heavens and her toes pointed seawards. Maybe longer than a decade, but shorter than a century. She's been there long enough for the seaweed to tangle around her legs and leech onto her skin. The sand sunk in around her, hugging her every curve. Her fiery hair constantly cooled and washed out with bright azure waves. Seagulls flutter in the air above her, beckoning at her to take a dip. The winds blow over her, through her eyelashes, whispering her name. Some say she's a mermaid. Washed ashore years before and unable to find her way home. Or rejected from her

If you came up to me and asked 'Do you know anything?' I would simply answer 'I'm clueless. I don't know a thing.' I don't know how to play a musical instrument I don't know when the sun rises or sets I don't know how to sing I don't know how to draw or write I don't know left from right I don't know how to let someone help me I don't even know how to let someone love me All in all, I don't know very much But I do know how a broken heart feels And what it's like to be left alone Those are some of the few things I do know It's not much, but they've taught me some things Like how you shouldn't try to fix a broken heart because

The words I'm trying to say just can't find a way out. My heart has sealed them off from the world, forcing them back down when they're dancing on my tongue. Their pounding at my ribcage, crying to be let out. And it hurts because I can hear them in my head as they sing to me and scream at me. I'm clawing at my chest in order to let them out, but they flow crimson from my scarred wrists. And though I've relieved myself from their torture today they'll surely be back again tomorrow. It's just one huge cycle. And it starts when I see your face. The words I want to say immediately come back, beating in my heart  pounding at my r

Whenever I'm alone with you, I can never think straight I can't say what I want to say or do what I want to do So usually we sit without saying anything But when you hold me in your arms, everything is perfect And I know we'll have to speak eventually But for now let's just enjoy the silence :heart:

Do you remember the days when we laughed until tears slid down our rosy cheeks? When we were untainted by the evil of the world and believed there was nothing in the universe that could severe this bond between us? The days we didn't need to count because time was endless. Tears of sadness were unheard of and were believed only to exist in myths. Happiness bloomed the moment the sun rose, bringing with it yet another day to our eternal life together. But where did it all end? Can you answer me this simple question? Maybe it was when we discovered our time together actually had an end. Or could it have been the knowledge of good and evil, the