Boy, you would probably stop loving me in an unattractive moment,
or even the second you notice a flaw.

( Read more... )

Color bleeder,
clorox drinker,
wishful thinker,
midnight dancer,
the girl who gave it up,
threw it up,
soaked it up,
blew it up,
made it up,
broke it up...
and none of it was fair,
or desired,
or expected,
or shared.
And elated moments kept it going
regardless of the unhappiness built up inside.

I didn't fall,
I gracefully let myself down.
You see, in my mind,
it all works in slow motion.
I'm much happier that way.

For the boy I never got to know,
but something was there.

Rotting away.

Base it on the one you love.
Ink it on your skin
And never let it fade.

Find your place, but find it in me.

17 layers of my heart have been stripped ( Read more... )

Why can't I make him fall in love with me? (This is my biggest concern.)
Why can't I be as pretty as she looked tonight?
Why can't my tediously done drawings look anything like her effortlessly made art?
These are the questions I ask myself...
and these are the nights I lie in bed crying
just hoping for an answer.