I write in order not to feel

To numb and silence what may come out

I love so deep that I scream in silence, 

masked by the laughter upon my face

It is easy to live ideally, to not care

and walk emotionless

To only feel joy 

because pain isn't real

It is easy.

I know it is.

But it is difficult to walk in the pain and feel it.

It takes character to feel more than one thing

The problem is...no one believes in emotions anymore.

They make us feel weak, so we walk proud.

It is sad that we all desperately want to feel loved and to love, but we are not willing to love because that means acting on something...anything other than the masks we wear.

We have become disconnected from our own emotions that we forget depth 

and we forget the sensation of our own heartbeat 

her heart is lost in amongst the chaos
conflicted by the way it should feel
she has come to doubt if there is anything
that could ever be considered as real

with one breath closer
there is a hole in her chest
leaking out her needed air to carry on with the rest

her self it to blame
no perfection
no fame
there aint nothing to her, but a girl with a name

the voices are loud
as they echo so clear
her worth is slipping
yes, this is her fear

just once
is she asking too much?
must her barren heart be stepped on like mush

it is finished baby
but the start was not near

her wondering heart
she once believed to be dear

not ever again was a love to be felt

deeper.

baby,

deeper

can you see it

can you feel it

maybe this time i won't be afraid

how do I speak in such a way that it tugs at your hearts strings,

that my words shake every bone in your body, that it regenerates a new way of thinking?

How do I talk innocence while screaming distaste. how do I fuel the fire within you and ignite you on fire?

to feel  - to be real - to speak - to love - to reach

what must I do for you to hear my dire cry echo through the mountains and dance upon the raging waves. 

You, are limit-less, yet you are vain.

your self indulgence eat the words that flow from my heart and your vanity rips them. 

---this isn’t about you, but I only write for you. ---

how do I scream into you. hypocrite. 

to be someone who speaks love, but turns in self vanity. 

I wanted you to love me. I wanted every piece of you, till you swallowed me whole. till you drown me in your own tainting ways. 

you don’t see it

you are blind to all that you are and all that you are becoming

this isn’t about you

but everything is for you

everything is about you

it always will be about you

how do I preach love into your life.

how do I break you down far enough for you to see your cracked bones

for you to see a weathered heart

for you to see your venom veins. 

for you to see the distaste that flows from your mouth

for you to feel broken enough to share, to feel, anything

for you to see past your own mask and find yourself

how do i.

how do i.

this isn't about you anymore. I wrote for you and only you. I still write out of brokeness for you.

I hurt for you. 

I no longer long for you, but I break for you.

her heart has but its own memory

tossed in amoungst the clouds

not fully obstructed, but with cracks of truth glistening through

she knew, she knew

she was on her way