I’m not sure what happened,
but somewhere along the line our nothing became something to me.
the worst part about that is 
now every fibre of my being is screaming to run,
to ruin it.
it’s screaming that it’s one-sided.
that while 
my heart is bursting into flames,
yours is trying to pour cold water to douse me with pain.
that I’m preparing myself to run into a brick wall again,
and soon enough I’ll be covered in bruises.
I didn’t want this to be anything,
and the problem is that it isn’t anything.
my heart has tried to plant its roots in your garden
while yours is trying to pick me out like a weed.
and my mind is saying
to stop trying to grow with you because
I’m not a flower you’re willing to feed.
though I’m unsure if my mind is playing tricks again,
and I’m not sure if you’re just a friend.
the worst part?

I don’t want to ask,

because frankly.. I’m scared to be right.


ink filled memories

Have you
Become nothing but a muse
The reason my pen hits paper
In the midst of the night

I seem to write about old memories
I’ve grown fond of
As we’ve not created more

There’s a distance between us
While not unusual
This time it’s greater
You’ve ventured further this time

I can’t remember
when I last held you in mine
For it’s been too long
The scent of your hair
Has been washed away
I no longer feel your touch

Until I close my eyes
And write about your soft brown eyes
Or your sweet lips against mine
Only memories of what has been
Not what is
Reminiscing a past that is no longer

I’ve romanticized something
That never was
Never has
And never will be

But when this pen hits paper
You’re everything
I wish we could have been