Blackoutoutside my window the world is pitch black and silent. i lay in bed, heat surrounding me and keeping me safe, suffocating the fears i have in the pit of my stomach.
a tree scrapes across the gauze on my window, and my body freezes. i yank the doona over my head and block the world from me. somewhere in my throat something is lodged, i find it hard to breathe or swallow.
At times like these i miss you the most, i want you here with me, beside me, your arms around me to protect and comfort me from all the threats in my simple little house.
a shadow passes my bedroom door, was it a trick of the light or something more, my stomach knots and my blood pumps through my veins faster and faster every second.
i feel the empty bed beside me, cold and untouched. it seems disrespectful to disrupt the perfectly made sheets, so idont. i roll over and watch the lights of my stereo flicker.
i miss you so much that it hurts. ill never understand how god could let you leave me alone to defend mysel
authority in a bodyher arm on my shoulder is like a safety blanket made of iron, like nothing could get through us.
sometimes when i'm alone i long for her to be near me, just as a comfort.
our decisions on life are entwined, for what she says goes, and i am more than happy to follow her suble nudges in the direction of my future.
she has power over me, she is my main source of leadership.
she is my mother and my father, my sister and my brother, we are alone and yet we manage as if we are many.
she is my queen, my president, my principal, and yet she is my friend.
she guides me through the misty and unclear times in life, she mends my wounds and seems to know how everything in this fast paced, technological world works.
she answers my questions, my quereys and still tucks me in at night.
she is my savior and without her my existance would crumble.
she is life.
for you, for me, for us.above me the moon is watching, as though he or she is judging my every footstep. while your fingertips are clasped between mine, i feel like if i make a wrong movement the world could collapse and i could lose this grip forever.
so many things about you make me want to curl up into a ball with you, and grasp onto those moments forever. while at times i wonder why i spend so much time worrying about us. we're perfect together, deffinately, but when we are apart, it never seems to work.
the world could produce the most perfect scenery, and someone, somewhere still wouldnt be happy - what is one mans trash, is another mans treasure. and vice versa.
i never want to lose you, this is just my way to vent. at times this whole situation feels like perfection, you have the ability to make me feel like the most beautiful girl in the world. and when i look into your eyes, i know that your the person i want to grow old with.
and while i have these miniscule thoughts of us not being toge
metaphor of life- i suppose.i guess this emptiness inside me is a side effect..
of all these temorary solutions and fixes, substances i thought would ease the pain.
everythings black and white, it seems simple, but its hard to define whats right and whats wrong. its becoming a blur.
at first i thought the diziness was normal, symtoms of vertigo were occuring whenever i moved my head.
everyone seemed to have hidden agendas, and complex meanings behind everything they did and said.
it was as though god had blindfolded me, held my hand to lead me through the first few years of life, and when i hit teens, he let me go and told me it was time for me to fend for myself, but from where i was standing i turned 180 degrees and started heading right back down in the oposite direction, heading towards a cliff face.
sometimes, just as i near the edge, i bump into someone in the same postion, we clasp hands and head for the right direction, but somewhere along the way our grip begins to loosen, until once again i am alone and
dirty, gritty, soulful.she wakes up each morning, the warning of daylight is just an empty threat.
she inhales the usual fumes from her box of an apartment, gas from the oven, nicotene and dust.
not unpleasent, just the usual smells, the scent she has begun to become used to.
she gets up, hovers around her room, looking, searching for something she knows isn't there. then packs her things and heads down the dirty and gritty main street of the city.
she acts as though the whole world is against her, and that the chip on her shoulder is everybody else's fault, bar her own.
those of us who care for her, can see straight through it, see through the hallow smile and worn skin, through the brittle bones and perishing muscle, and straight into her heart, her soul.
and there - she weeps.
she weeps for the days where spinning around and falling on the grass, giddy and giggly, was the only thing she would do, wishing for those days back.
she misses her parents. she hasn't spoken to them in almost four years. she suppo
over-bearing denial at bestso right now its denial at its worst.
i keep telling myself i can find something better,
that the sun DOES shine as bright somewhere else,
and that right now its all just stormy weather.
i want to Fall for someone as hard as i fell for you.
i can't have you, and i certainly don't WANT you,
but you have managed to bound me to this brick wall,
and i still never stop thinking about you.
What we had was nothing special,
it was never worth the front page news,
but the day it ended it felt like someone was squeezing my chest so tight that i could hardly breathe.
its not as though i CANT live without you.
i know for a fact that i can and WILL move on.
i have before, and i will again.
i just guess i hallucinated for a while.
and the substance, nay - drug i took is starting to wear off.
and i see it all for what it really is.
and just because i keep writing about you,
yes you know exactly who you are,
that doesn't mean i'm depressed and lonely and broken into a million tiny peices unable to be