your days are usually a back and forth yoyo, i've trying to string my words into your form, into your moves and into your play– it's a brand new day, you don't need to spend it alone, you've got me, you've always got me.
you know the worst sounds aren't always scraping against a chalkboard or a fork against a dinner plate– the worst sounds begin in the throat, and you know the fucked up part? it's usually not a sound, it's just a whimper, it's just the thick silence that follows after all those hours of crying, i'm sorry that you've been hurting for so long, low key and high key, i just want you to feel okay. those memories are like shrapnel pierced deep into your veins, you've been trying to cut it out, i know. the blood will flow, but it just hurts some more, doesn't it? hey, this isn't the end, it just looks like it. the sound of your crying? it just means you're getting to a point. a point that you'll be proud of. a sound that you'll be proud of. a sound of you getting better.
you used to smile a lot more, you used to be the happiest person that i know. that scares me, because whenever i see you, you're always smiling, but i know that you're not okay. i mean, they don't know, but i do. i see right through you, you're paper thin. but i mean, that doesn't mean that you're fragile, you've got all of these words under your eyes, right next to your bags, you've got these words right under those long sleeves, right next to those scars, you've got these words all over your heart, right next to the bleeding– we've just got to lend an open ear, i've just got to listen some more. i care about you, you're my favourite, favourite. you used to be so happy. it's okay to be sad. it's okay to feel. let's just listen to the way you've been hurting.
my favourite flowers are roses, but i once ran across these flowers called snapdragons. when they're alive and blooming, they look like dragons that can breathe fire. when they're withering and wilted, they look like skulls. you've been so morbid lately, i remember when you were full of life. death and life, they're lovers. they kiss each other and sometimes, they die together. i think that's why my favourite flowers are roses, love...it doesn't really die. i guess in some way, i'll always love you. even if your thorns are sharper than most, i'd still hold you. stem to stem, i'd bleed with you.
those razors are just adding heartstrings that you don't need, you've got plenty– so i've been listening, that's all you need right? someone to hear you out. i'm here. you don't know those fake veins to make you feel. i'm here. i'm here. i'm always here for you.
your lips form a whole garden of flowers that still need to be watered– so i've been watering. i'll be the bees, so please– grow.
memories can kill us– let's build the bad ones a paper boat, let them sink into your ocean, let those tears rip through the ugly, let your drowning devour everything painful.
you don't smoke cigarettes like i do, but every time that i smoke one – you past through my mind and i wonder...if you cut as much as i smoke – your wrist must look like my lungs. maybe we share the same kind of guilt, the same kind of pain, the same kind of self-torment – shit, i love you. we need to quit our bad habits. is there such a thing as wrist cancer? probably not, let's never make it a thing.
i use pens, you use razors. i write poems, you write pain. i write starry love, you write love into your own scars – hey, those wounds won't heal properly if you don't let them scab up. someone's got to remind you to love yourself. i'll be that person, hey you. look. it's going to get bad before it gets better, i still believe in you. i'm hopeful about you. i am.
i need you. this isn't a metaphor. this is a flat out truth. this is something i'll never let be a lie. i fucking need you. i need all of you. every little piece of you. every broken piece of you. every lovely piece of you. all of it. all.
i know that feelings can lead us to extremes– i know that trusting people can lead to insanity... but we've all been mad, alice is still there waiting to kiss us goodnight. it's okay, she's found of teacups and your madness. let's just relax a little. so what if you do drugs? we all need some sort of get away. just watch out for anything too much, anything too deadly. hey, you're in good hands.
you've been crying again...right? teardrops are just tiny beds we haven't slept on yet, so maybe you're just tired. tired from the crying, tired from the feelings, tired from everything that's just not comforting– let's focus on the pillow shaped tears, the softest kind of kiss me back to bed, you can focus on that. don't let this be another bad dream, okay?
i once watched an anime and there was this one character that said something very specific that kinda fucked me up, they said: "if you're going to get hurt, at least get hurt properly. let yourself feel everything."
our highs, let's fly it into every kite– let's float with the butterflies, let's hurt a little less.
our lows, let's keep it beneath those band-aids, let's keep it at a minimum, let's be okay.
your smile is skipped breakfast. you never skip breakfast. it's the most important meal of the day. always have it. your first smile for today? you're alive. you're fucking toasted. you're fucking lit. you're here. you're scrambled. you're a little burnt, but fuck it, i'd eat it. okay, i wouldn't eat your smile, this is just a metaphor. you get what i'm saying, have at least one, it'll change your whole day.
your eyes are letters you never send out. i would ask you why, but i know better. you keep them down; you're looking for words upon the floor. the words that say everything, but also nothing. depression keeps us strangled. depression keeps us anchored. depression seeps into us like tea that's just too bitter, so add a little sugar. we all need a little love; we all need a little letter. i need your eyes to do more than crying, i need your eyes to be smiling. yes, smiling is more than just lips.
i don't know if it's about love or if it's about family, i don't know if something messed up happened to you, you don't talk about much...and i want to be there for you, i do. but i can't be there if you close everyone off, those inner thoughts? our inner demons... it gets the best of us. there will never be a metaphor that's stronger than ourselves looking back at ourselves in such defeat. hey, you may lose today, you may lose tomorrow... but this war? it's far from over. every day that you wake up. every day that you're alive. you've already won.
hope is a car with a flat tire sometimes, and although you're the deer caught in the headlights– don't worry, you won't die today. stay hopeful.
some of the best poetry comes from the heart, i no longer know why i write to be completely honest. it's just love requests, but occasionally i get people that don't know how to live this life anymore... and suicide isn't poetic, but hope is, love is, and i guess in some way... i'd like to just help. maybe this one poem might change someone forever, maybe it won't, but at least i tried. that's the thing about words, it does things for people. maybe it'll do something for you. hey, i love you. it's only a day, so cheer up– and if you can't. then cry, crying is bravery. you are a warrior. you've made it this far, i believe in you. i believe in your survival. i believe in your recovery. and if nothing else, i love you.
