if being myself makes me someone, i would rather not be myself.

being someone who isn't, or someone who once was, is something i feel bitter about.

it would be wise to forget, to find confort in the arms of a stranger. if i dared to love ever again, i would love myself.

there's something wrong in the way reality is designed, what is real sometimes isn't. being flawed by nature, I blame my creators.

what am I? a monster under your bed? a feather on your shoulder?

to me you are my reasons, my last and only hope. You arethe only one who has ever truly seen me.

on a crowded room full of nothingness, we always manadged to find each other. either blindfolded or deaf, our souls would always unite

rest on my chest as if i was a pillow. breathe me in as if i am food to your lungs.

there are times where i think about what could have been. there are even times where I meet you on my dreams.

maybe one day i'll find the answers to the equasion of life. perhaps i'll even find the answers to my origins.

all i know is that i miss your smell on my clothes. i miss the way you looked at me as if you could see what was under my dirty and thicc skin. 

you were once the roots of my structural self. the impact you had and have over someone as empty as myself is something i find to be impressive.

in my mind i saw you as my soulmate. i even dared to think we'd eventually die of age while holding each other ever so thighly. 

i never want to love someone again. feeling heartbroke, abandoned and forgotten by you as made me think just how much i hurt you. if i could go back i would hold you instead of pushing you away. i should've taken care of you as good as you took care of me. 

we won't ever meet again. i will never get to hear your voice. you won't even read my poems or the book i wrote in homenage to you and your love.

i become so sad at times thinking about you and what once was that i can't stop crying. several years have passed, yet i still love you. i wish you'd still love me.