RoseShadow975

I WISH I COULD WRITE YOU BEAUTIFUL WORDS THAT COULD MAKE YOU SMILE AND TO MAKE YOU WANT ME BACK AND TO MAKE YOU WONDER WHY I AM THE WAY I AM AND TO MAKE YOU GLANCE BACK AT ME WHEN I WALK AWAY ( AND EVEN THOUGH YOU'D BE SEEING MY HEAD ATTACHED TO MY SHOULDERS, IT'S REALLY IN THE CLOUDS WITH MY SOARING THOUGHTS AND HEART IN MY THROAT ). I WISH I COULD SING YOU A SONG TO CONVEY THAT I HAVE BEEN ALONE FOR FAR TOO LONG AND THAT EVEN THOUGH MY THOUGHTS ARE JUMBLED IN THE HAZE OF MY IMAGINATION I CAN BE THERE FOR YOU WHEN YOU NEED AND THAT EVEN THOUGH I'M NOT PRETTY I CAN BLEED DIFFERENT COLORS OTHER THAN RED BECAUSE I KEEP A CANVAS IN MY VEINS ( S

i'm too tired to give you words that sound pretty all strung together. i can't give you words that make much sense either because my posture is horrendous and my eyes feel like anchors and my tongue is all worn out and i can't seem to figure out why. i'm wanting to never speak again, to never use my vocal chords unless it's when you want me to sing. i would sing you whole operas and talk to you about the galaxies and architecture or maybe bands that you like because i know you love music. i don't think we're ever going to end up where i want us to. i think we'll always dance around it and ignore it and be in continuous denial until

it's that moment where i'm caught trying to capture all your features and put them to memory for good. when i'm laying next to you and your eyes are closed and mouth is relaxed and sleep has taken hold. i'm not thinking about anything because i'm at ease yet unsteady at the same time so i barely breathe. i see you and i see you and you are here and real and breathing easy, content, unhindered. i don't know how to be gentle. i know how to be stoic and disconnected from reality. i don't know how to articulate myself with spoken words, nicely strung together and lovely. i know how to whip up my thoughts in a hurricane of words and emotion

and it comes to the point where you don't feel it anymore it'll be with you in the darkness and next to you when you lay down to sleep at night with your covers tucked up to your chin and your lower lip trembling fast but you can't feel it's fingers as they run through your dirty hair and you can't feel it's lips as they nip at your knobby elbows and jagged knees and you can't feel it's pulse as it presses against you in the shower when you're broken on the tile floor and so many pieces of you have already fallen down the drain there's no hope to ever be whole again but you're not too concerned and you can't feel it's breath filling u

Sometimes I have a lot on my mind. Sometimes I leave notes to strangers because it's therapeutic to know that maybe someone cares. Sometimes I don't want to get up in the morning because my mind is too heavy. Sometimes I cry when I'm not supposed to and smoke too much weed. Sometimes I think I'll never be happy and I'll always be alone. Sometimes I'm afraid of the dark and monsters with white eyes and blood soaked teeth will take bites out of me while I sleep. Sometimes I don't think I have a future and sometimes I don't want one. Sometimes I think about his sapphire eyes and jet black hair and wonder if I'm doing the right thing even

i've got big dreams but right now i'm feeling kind of down on myself and i can't shake this feeling you've sown into my chest. it's echoing around my ribcage and fucking with my heartache that was there first and has been since you were the best. and tomorrow i'll feel differently but i still won't shave my legs because i still don't trust myself with a razor and a steady hand. believe me when i say i'm trying even though it's tough to do when you've been left and have left and it's all going according to plan. how did i get here? how did i get here? did i walk and that's why my feet hurt? why i'm suddenly as backwards as m

i get needy too. i get lonely too. i get it. i get it. i get lonely too. i have my needs.

you had pink floyd posters on your wall and it smelled like weed when i sat at your desk. 'i don't believe in god,' you told me. 'i don't believe in you,' i said as i rummaged through your drawers, looking for your stash. 'you're such a cunt, sometimes,' you sniffed, walking into your bathroom. i found your rolling papers but kept searching. 'i know,' i replied, 'i know.' you closed the door and turned on the sink, tapping your toothbrush against the rim. you always did that, like you had OCD or some shit. you loved brushing your teeth even though i told you that you didn't brush properly and by the time you hit 25 you'd have no gums

he hated his father. i didn't like that. i liked him better when he was sober. but he liked to be fucked up. and i couldn't blame him. but when he stumbled and tripped and fell and broke his mirror he got angry and i tensed at the building sense of seven years of bad luck and i had to get out. i love this boy. i think. he is mine because i crawled into his bed and kissed him first. he kissed my stomach and gripped at the inside of my thighs. nice. and. tight. but he still gets angry. he'll still get angry. and i can't be there for that. i want to be draped head to toe in his clothes and to be surrounded by his smel

driving through the woods on the other side of town that's closer to the beach where our friend nearly drowned and i'm thinking to myself, 'how did we end up here?' with one headlight and swerving to avoid the roadkill deer. and i said, 'darling, look, i know we've been in love for a while, but i can't even remember the last time that you smiled.' and you wouldn't look at me but i was staring straight at you the silence told me everything you couldn't about the truth. it's a long, long drive from here to west virginia where your mom and her boyfriend live in a three bedroom condominium. but you've got your heart set on leaving yo