What A Subtle Form Of Self Harm It Is To Love You.

What a subtle form of self harm it is to love you.

Such a gruesome death to die.

What a comfort it is to be to be loved by you.

Such a torment it is to be not.

What am I?

A strange thing to wonder

I'm the anger of my father,

And the silent cries of my mother.

I'm the broken pieces of childhood,

Of a once happy daughter.

Thorn to my rose

Pic via pinterest

In a room full of strangers, our eyes met in secrecy.

With that striking smile of yours, you simply just ended me.

Gently whispered words killed me more than any poison could.

Loved you way too fondly than any lover ever should.

In frightened voice and shaky hands, I was scared to lose you.

In granted lives and afterlife, I was never meant to have you.

What is life anymore, if not just the absence of you?

Had to watch you bleed to death, what is even left to lose?

Once again in life I am terrified to let you close.

You were my known ruin. A lethal thorn, my gentle rose.

he called me neurotic

but what i think he really meant

was that the roots of my anxiety

are growing deep within my head

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sometimes my thoughts run far

away, escape all rhyme and reason

the seeds of logic overthrown

by the fruits of anxious seasons

-

i just take my time to breathe

and think up a solution

i take a minute and i trawl

through the depths of this pollution

-

poison planted in my mind

by words and dirty looks i catch

in a net of pure self hate

in which fearful thoughts hatch

-

he called me neurotic

and sure, ill take it on the nose

my garden of fear and self hate

truly needed that last rose.

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(photo via)

Pic via pinterest

Is it normal to grieve yourself?

And still yearn the grief?

To know you'll be eternally hurting,

Why is it such a relief?

Him

He was butterflies.

He was anxiety.

He was silent cries.

He was that feeling of empty.

He was reliance.

He was trouble.

He was treacherous.

He was loyal.

He was steady.

He was unstable.

He was needy.

He was unpredictable.

He was my almost lover.

He was a goddamn nightmare.

He was a million little emotions.

Mixed into a disconsolate one.