Arabellaten

looking at other people's memories is painful and personal, but we do it because we like the torture. i hear the voices fading in, every thought echoes, the blackness ebbs. sleep beckons, but the pain is exquisite and the insanity hard to resist.

Laying in the dark, watching TV, we share secret string cheese and I love you's, all while you should be sleeping. But you're not so we cuddle and share smiles and looks and whispers. And this is how I love you.

If I could take away the pain, maybe you'd feel the same If I had a star for every time I thought of you, I'd have galaxies. As it is I'm willing to give you the moon and stars. I'd do it all for you I packed up my life for the great unknown, a life with you. I'd do it all for you I gave up my security for this love; I believe it is worth it. I would I gave it all up for you.

Have you ever felt so alone, so..inside yourself, that you literally feel like nothing? Nothing more than a sack of bones and meat and shit that just uses up oxygen. You feel empty inside too. So empty, and yet so much pain. All this jealousy and rage that you know is unwarranted so you do nothing about it. You cry a lot. Usually at night, when the rest of the world is shut off, sleeping. The telly can't drown out the voices in your head that say you're worthless. Alcohol, drugs, it can sedate them for a while, but they always come back stronger, telling you how fucked up you are. It's usually the voices of people who are close to you; your m

I, I am a sad song, sung by the past voices of fallen wings, as they whisper and fall to the ground. I, I am an ending, tearing apart your smile, starting from the tongue. I, I am a lost hope, thought about by sailors, as they roam the broken seas. I, I am a broken soul, tossed away by weary glances, and eaten alive by harsh words. We, we are the people, the artists, the singers, the dancers, the executives, the fry cooks, the bus drivers, the officers, the cashiers, the managers, the musicians, the crooks and the thieves, the preachers and the rabbis, the homeless and the millionaires, the broken and weary, the lost and destitute, the lov

I am a one-sided conversation   I am alone. So this is what it feels like to have the wind run through your feathers, it makes you feel alive.   It carries conversations that are not captured by the ear and whispers them into the hearts of men. So let our secrets stay between us. Hold me close, so the wind does not steal our words.  

I never want this road to end. But is it because I wish to spend more time with you, or because I'm afraid of awkward goodbyes? I guess I'll find out, because we're pulling up now. We hug goodbye, but then you turn just right, and so do I. And it's a kiss. I knew this would happen. We kiss and you reach up into my shirt. But then you pull your hand away, and I turn my head and say goodbye once more, and give a quick, half-hearted hug, and leave you behind in the truck.

So brick by brick you'll tear her down until there's nothing left except ashes and tear drops. Can you feel her broken heart? It's been sewn up many times. Can you see her broken bones? She's stitched those up, too.