birdlike bonesit's like youwrapped your fingersaround my throatand then hadthe nerve to ask meto breathe.
RegretOnce, you were my everything.I was blinded by my need.How could it have ever worked,When we could never touch?You were my fantasy,My dream love.I still don’t understand whyIt had to end the way it did.Our beautiful loveSplintered into thousands of nightmares.I know I was the one to break it off,But I’ll always regret we changed so much.Why did you drive me away?Did I mean so little to you?Or could it be I dreamed you into being?All I have now are muddled memories,And more missing pieces…
Daddy, am I pretty?Daddy, am I pretty?"Daddy, daddy look at me!"She laughed and twirled aroundDressed up in her dress-up clothes.Daddy didn't make a sound. "Daddy, daddy look at me."She told him once again."Daddy, am I pretty?" Asked she, feeling empty within. "Yes." said daddy flatlyThough look he never did.She ripped off all the clothes,Ran to her room and hid.Daddy never came To ever see if she was fine. In her floor she laid.All she could do was cry. Daddy didn't love her;She knew that in her heart.It's not right for a five year oldTo feel broken, torn apart. Although too many years have passed The story's still the same.I called only when I needed himBut daddy never came.Now my dreams are haunted With that broken little girlAnd her horrid misconception ofThe best daddy in the world.
the writer's diseasemy conversations becomeblurs of i-miss-you'slittered on the cold floor of empty promises.you deserve something more thansilhouettes of words, casting shadows onto my heartfilling it with tricks of lightthat try to hide away the darkness.sit down and stay for a while--except i'm going to gobecause i never learned how to keepthe beautiful thingsfor more than a little at a time;i'm left chain smoking words like cigarettesone word after the other after the other,exhaling them all with my cancerand my thick, black lungs.and they say a cigarette takes seven minutesfrom your life--yet these words take memories from mine,stripping me bare of the way you said my nameor the way you touched my facei read you poetry in the dark, oncefingers curled around wrists and hipsbreathing words onto your lips as if i couldkeep you, as if i could wrap you upin the network of stars that made up your eyesand get you to staybut you could never stayand we both know it isn't something