What I'm Trying to Say is What I'm Wanting to Say Without Having to Say...

I Love You. <3


Counting      The      Days          'til          My     Heart     Stops      .    .     .

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I blew it, and if I knew what to do then I'd do it.

I kissed a friend of mine, on accident,
Not to mention it was her first.
How can I say I'm sorry when I'm not?
How can I say it's right when it's wrong?


I snapped without reason to him,
He sat and heard me out.
I cried out of frustration and pain that,
Was brought upon myself, by myself.

I stare at an empty pill bottle,
Thinking of all the friendships I have made,
And all the fall-outs that were my fault.
I have no one to blame but myself for my loneliness.


"This is the scent of dead skin on a linoleum floor
This is the scent of quarantine wings in a hospital
It's not so pleasant.
And it's not so conventional
It sure as hell ain't normal
But we deal, we deal"
-Panic! at the Disco

You're gonna lose that girl.

She sits upon the couch where he left her alone. He stormed off when she told him truthfully that she wasn't in the mood. She is reading. A call comes from the bedroom, where her boyfriend lay watching television. "Get some dinner cooking!"

You're gonna lose that girl.

She sighs and stands. He's not in all that bad a mood.

If you don't treat her right, my friend, you're gonna find her gone.

She walks into the kitchen and realizes it's far past due for a cleaning. "I thought you said you were going to clean the kitchen, dear?" she says, unsure, in that soft voice of hers. Even above the buzz of the television he hears her groan.
"The cleaning and cooking is you're job remember?" he shouts.

If you don't take her out tonight, she's gonna change her mind.

She carefully avoid the spilled milk on the floor and heads for the bedroom. Upon reaching the door, she carefully begins to turn the knob, stops, and then decides against it. Best not risk it. "What would you like for dinner, honey?" No answer. She enters the room cautiously only to find him caught up in a video game.

And I will take her out and I will treat her kind.

 She asks again and he waves it off, mumbling something or other. And she leaves. Shuts the door, grabs her bag, down the hall and out on to the streets.

The way you treat her, what else can I do?

This is how I feel, without being direct

There is a breeze that blows the door open,
But does not shake the trees.
Tendrils of a venomous miasma escape into the night.
Perilous thoughts that make them wonder,
And the palpitations that make their hearts bleed.
The eyes, they carry so much sorrow until it falls in tears.
Water that replenishes the soul,
Turning it from black, to blue, to green.
Windows shatter and fragments fall,
Piercing what we love the most.
Pain that makes a masochist wish he couldn't feel at all.
A hunger rises that makes you wonder how you're still alive.
It stabs at your soul and you cry,
Why hasn't your heart given up?