drowning in my emotions, with the scribble of a pen.
These bones of mine rest easier with yours
so just wait the night out and fill the
empty space in my bed until morning.
I am not asking for the moon,
only to lay underneath it with you
and wish on exploding stars that
our hearts will burst, too.
Maybe this is a shout into the void
to someone who dreams of other girls
but I hope the feel of my body
wrapped in your tired arms
is enough to make you see
someone else behind your eyelids.
The sight of you in my head
most nights has haunted me
but for the first time,
you could be the big spoon to my little
instead of splitting like a knife.
Do not come near me.
I will the suck the life from your lungs
and kiss your lips until they turn blue,
leaving you gasping on the floor
while the door shuts behind me.
I will not look back
or think about how you fared.
There are other nights of meaningless company,
other boys to pass time before I run again.
I could lead each one over the edge
and hear them curse to god
for the damage I wreak to them,
or watch them cage their hearts
before I squeeze too tight.
These hands are meant for destruction
and I do not know how to hold on
without crushing what is in my palms.
Stay away before I grab you
and rip your world to pieces.
Creep up from behind me
and whisper in my ear.
Admit the heinous truths
that I never wished to hear.
Tell me I am filthy
and unworthy of your time.
Let me feel the brunt
of my apathetic crime.
I hope you tear the heart
out of this battered chest
and rip it to shreds before
my body falls to rest.
I hurt no one around me
but deal the damage to my head,
and when the bomb detonates inside me,
it fuels the misery I have bled.
I can never free my soul
when it is weighed down with the pain
of self-destructive actions
that drove me to go insane.
You watched me take a knife
and twist my stomach into knots.
You are the angel dressed in black,
the demon of my thoughts.
You have cuts on your heart
that I could never mend
because time and bad company
have left them unsealed.
The people who should have
given you the world
broke it in front of your eyes,
expecting you to put the pieces
back together and move on.
They pushed your head to its limit
with hopeless thoughts,
and while you dug your grave
and threw your body in,
they took their shovels and
covered you up.
All that is left from the past
is a ghost of a boy
with a family who haunts him without reprieve.
I want you to know that if this world
swallows me whole and leaves
nothing but my bones and skull
for you to mourn over,
you were the one damn thing
I held close enough to my heart
for it to nearly burst through my chest,
and the amount of fights we had
that left me clinging to my sheets
with clenched fists and sore knuckles
were worth more to me than
what I was ever given in good times
from people I knew before you.
What I am trying to say is that
I would go to war for a face like yours
to wake up next to at 4 a.m when
my dreams are unsettling,
to kiss when my lips need a face for kissing,
and to hold when my hands are empty
but need someone to fill the spaces.
My life will end and I will never know it,
but I hope you still keep the thought of me alive
because I would give the rest of my existence
to make you feel the way about me that I do
when you are twisted with my body
and wrapped up in my eyes.
My best is worst overall
but I have to take it anyways,
and my short days are still long
but I have to wake up anyways.
I inhale and exhale even when
I do not want to make the effort,
and if someone believes that
I still have a purpose after
I feel the lethargy close in,
then so be it
but I will take a back seat
to this thing we call ‘life’
and hope the person driving
knows what the hell is going on
because I haven’t the slightest idea.
We are driving in the wrong direction
or at least that is what I am told,
and I do not feel the urge to
shout that we are headed toward
disaster and cannot turn around.
I look at you and cannot catch my breath.
The moonlight strikes your face
in such a way that no one could seem
as beautiful as you in this moment.
My hands ache for your skin,
just to prove that you are real
and not a figment of my ideal imaginations.
Your eyes mirror depths to which
I do not know how to dive
but the sight of you in front of me
is enough to make me try,
even if it kills me in the end.
I would die happier after a moment
of exposure to your affections
than after a lifetime without it
but you would not look at me
in the way I see you now,
because your beauty is of the
rarest kind and I am quite
unlovely under the night sky.