◇ At fault.

Hiii!How are you?I hope fine!
          I'm sorry for bothering you, but do you have time to check out my stories? 
          my biggest dream is to become a great author one day!
          If you are interested, here it is.
          
          
          
          I follow back too for help you because I know it's not easy to be a writer ;)
          https://www.wattpad.com/story/377277094?utm_source=android&utm_medium=link&utm_content=story_info&wp_page=story_details_button&wp_uname=unfinished_sentenc_

My words are messy and unclean,
          Blind to their consequences.
          But when others' voices burn me,
          It blazes my flesh down to bare bone.
          

.
          .
          .
          I still have letters tied in a knot,
          Ready to slip from my throat.
          Whenever I see you pass by,
          They threaten to tumble out;
          The walls of my mouth they coat.
          I keep biting back the things I need to scream,
          Although is seems
          That it chokes me.
          

◇
          .
          .
          . 
          
          ' ' I t   w a s n ' t   u n t i l l   I   h a d   s o m e o n e   t o   c o n s u l t,
          
          t h a t   I   r e a l i z e d   I   w a s
          
          @-Atfault
          
          ☆
          

There's still words to say,
          Left from my throat when you went away.
          So now, I sit here and decay,
          Waiting for someone else
          Who'll come and love me, too
          One day...

I have so much love to give,
          But nobody to give it to.
          I don't know how to give it,
          Who to lend it to,
          Or how to show it's there.
          It is there,
          I promise.
          It was there,
          It's been there,
          It'll be here.
          I'll wait until I can let it bloom again,
          Before it blossoms the wrong color,
          And spoils my garden again.
          
          Why do I ruin everything? 

Death is finite and certain,
          But life is messy and untrue.
          
          So why is chosing the first option seen as ill?

Some times I wonder if it's dangerous,
          To be ready to die at such a young age
          
          

 And maybe, I was at fault,
          For the loss of you.
          Maybe I did vent too much,
          I let it spill all out into you
          Until it washed you away,
          And even though, I have much to say,
          I'll let you live.
          
          ☆