I can't forsake much less regret or erase these memories by mistake be they time or space; not even with lovely's long jet-black hair that I caress upon my fate beaten chest, or the related thought underneath my tongue, just a breath and not a misguided feeling. Keep your manicured fingers crossed. In the meantime, I'll hold my breath. Every time before I turn and run I check my back, speculating what she will say; to make me sound like someone disingenuous. Hannah clenches her lazy arms around my tired neck. I'm disoriented beyond association, disassociated, and disregarded as a freaking panic of a wreck. We're making up inside our bruised and broken battle-scares; or, the way your jet black lip gloss stains my white-tee-shirts; so much for-ever being the same because, you don't know who I really am, now my shyness makes up for the silence. I swear I'll never be the same. I fathom that at best all of her best friends, save one, all but despise me; well I can't deny that I find distaste in the pleasure to be rather flattering; after all, I'm a panicked guilt-ridden thought, now we're even. There's an illumination deep within the pupils of her dark-ocean-blue eyes; telling me that I'm far from a smooth talker. Flush red my eyes are bloodshot red; I favor opening apologies handwritten, on self-construed greeting cards. Hannah can take advantage of me blissfully conspiring ahead of passing time; hiding all the evidence underneath her tongue. I'm ever so kindly, keeping you in mind. We're making amends, but until then, she can bury this heart ten-feet-underneath her bedroom door. My facade is ruining my concentration, bolstering my failed backup plan, and then betraying my sense-of-self, which has been hiding in plain view. I don't want to hit-or-miss your mesmerizing eyes today, or her brilliant lies, under stress, what excruciating duress. Hannah's bright red-lipstick stains my pillowcase time and again, but I'd never let something you'd regret come in between us, again. I so adored with utter flattery the fact that you don't see me, the way that I do; all of her friends save one, all but despise me at best. Well I can't deny that solace exhilarates my heart, considering the way you look at me, when I'm alone, kept tripping me in and out of self-reliance. This leads me to every time I turn my back wondering what you will say, to make me sound like someone different. Yet, and still I would extend each and every part of me; simply to fool your jaded destitute. Such a train wreck, she's subjecting me alongside an illusion alluding to a sophisticated plot; which was toiled together with a brilliant sense of urgency. Sincerity so happens to be an exhilarating sensation; much like the dawn has finally saturated my emotions into a clear view. Hannah was born to play the role of an innocent beauty who lost her tiara due to conspicuously defying the orders of her alter ego; drama queen.
I'll express your past frustrations bringing up your sense-of-self, drawing disasters nearer; sketching more lines across your bed. From underneath Hannah's plastic nose I'll briskly take a brief sneak peek up close and personal; of her jet-black lip-gloss. While loves fast asleep sprawled out on my bed daydreaming about the bridge we crossed beneath shallow water, you've been taken advantage of me, anxiously thinking ahead of time. There's writing down by the hallway wall; next to the bedroom that we once shared, it reads: “Say a prayer for the bruised and broken, and take a chance to admit that you're wrong. Yea take the time to say that you were wrong. Thank God for His Son and the cross.” Ever so gently, I drape her favorite dark maroon-fleece-blanket round-about her figure. In her deep sleep she pulls me closer; resting her head upon my chest. With every single waking breath I am submerged in being ever so misled. “Waking up with me should be the time of your life; at least an over exaggerated hit-or-miss. An excuse was prearranged for failure. Stretch your gorgeous eyes for the day. Tell me lies go ahead and finish; let me know what I need to hear; lovely, you know I’ll never fall for it,” I said. Under this moonlit night if timing were presences I'd trace the lines upon her face and sleep underneath a deep breath and not a misguided fantasy. From the starting line of first sight, I noticed something like a personality. Her long jet-black-hair is fixed in a side pony-tail hanging down about her left shoulder. My perception snapped precaution as an inadvertent black and white photo of flattery. “Take a hold your tongue and please excuse me, for expressing distain over the fact that you do not seem to see me, the way that I do.” I said. Causality catastrophe casually, I wrote her name in red on my hand, so I will not forget. “I know you barely know me; with my sweaty palms, tongue stuck to the rough of my mouth; tied in a knot; words they rarely come out. I’d rather die than to deny the fact that she kills me inside; with her long eyelashes; saliva drains my lips. Dehydrated, I blame myself for spilling all of my guts.” I said. She was wearing a pair of tight dark-blue-jeans with a dark-faded-t-shirt; which read, Jesus saves. My breath ceased me within as if my one last chance trodden heart were left for dead; feelings like I’m not good enough surfaces as proof. My tracks stood still - as steel at dawn; like clock work every part of me was left hanging in the bitter-tides of this seemingly solitude state of existence. I’ve never heard my heartbeat while it stayed silent, not until you met me. I reconvened to disengage a prearranged sentimental excuse, strictly, for this use. The thrashing of my heartbeat is in desperation of a shallow-exhale- exposing the facts burned in stone. This was such a suggestive expression; which played an empty role in toiling this reaction together with an all too realistic sense of urgency. Fate with pure elation was shoved into my face over and over, yet again over until I knew passion was classic. My life is built with preexisting decisions; full of intense deliberating interpretations; convincing me of whom, I am. I doubt I'll ever be the one that she desires. Although she claims she knows what’s best for me; I'm scared to death that I will mistake my heartbeat for a series of excruciating-expressions. I see a train-colliding with my previously abandoned ambitions. My tongue clings to the roof of this mouth-full of regret; with a lack of self-sufficient intention. Yet and still, I would extend each and every expectation to fool all of my, destitute- fixated, emotions. "Every time I turn my back I wonder what you will say, to make me sound like someone different," I said. "Words roll off of this tongue of mine, and many times they trip me up, so I precisely define nothing of the speaking kind," Hannah said. I hate the way she despises me when I am alone. I have to admit that I'd stretch out anything just to bend rather than break, and to substantiate the terms predestined for flattery. She alleges that I intentionally spark a fight with intentions that deceive, simply, to see dishes fly without wings, and walls chipping by means of the shattered glass; which crashes into my-pride; like I’ll never be the same. “If my intentions are all but cleverly misplaced, kindly expose my so-called callus intentions; look directly behind the whites of my bloodshot eyes, or the soul of my - window. I want your baseless insinuations. I need you to expose, my many related, unrelated, self-rejected, objections without any reservation for the consequences; of which don't apply; to any of the speaking kind.” I said. “Yea, I’m tracing over your old love-letters; asking myself, are his intentions as good as mine. My delusions feed me excuses, which tell me; you’re not good enough. This all coincides with me relentlessly - trying to convince myself that I’m alive inside,” Hannah said. Jesus shines within my deceitful - heart filled with disarray. Confusion has been chipping away at all of my previously embraced self-doubt; of which are full of subliminal decisions. My heart was trapped inside a straight-jacket. I’m callus and frustrated, but you'll never live this down. “Pressure is effectively my possession. My decision is to obligate you with pure-intentions. And to sprinkle me with deep-red-wine,” I said. Her response resembled an admirable personality: “Season my gin saturated skin, with the sparkle in your eyes of gem. Crystal clear I perceive no predictable lies that deceive,” Hannah said.
“I’m dreaming that existence will trace and season my skin with the breeze of a west coast fall,” I said. There are autumn leaves scattered where the grass once was visible. Once again her lucid attention has jaded my overacting skills. I’ll state it blunt, as if there’s nothing left to it “girl, it’s all downhill from here.” She’s playing off of emotions. I’m playing off of favorites, I swear that there’s regret; that I don’t have. I keep telling myself: “You know there’s nothing missing, all be it, a breath under a pleading feeling.” Seeing her from afar was a pure explosion of ecstasy, laced, with diverse anticipation. She's marked me as being destined for the destitute; in the meantime, I'm reading in-between her thin-red eye-line; which is overshadowed by the promise of her-melody. “My thoughts burn like amber; asking myself, I wonder if you’re the reason I am going insane.” She looked, but didn’t say anything. “I knew that you’d be coming around-well-before, I foresaw a crystal-clear sound,” she said. Hannah pulled me into a state of solace; this is like a translation of ice melted in-between the lines; or a shift in position. I feel blatantly set-off-course because we created the stand in-between the grains; grasping for empty lines. It's been high and not as dry as to her claims to love me not. But I am empty, with the kind of love that stings. “Seeing you were life at first love; congratulations, I’m not impressed that the lonely position of neutral is made up urgently. I've been searching up - and - down the west coast, but there's no one else that even comes close. He's got some-kind-of-nerve for not seeing you, the way that I do. As long as you know that I'd never change any part of me just to watch you stay; then I will stay. Otherwise my-bags will be packed and waiting by the door,” I let her know. I told her so; I’ll hang on; I’ll hang on for the ride. I’ve got nothing to hide. Nothing comes to mind until I am right - back where I started, damn. Nowadays I'm ever- so delighted to see the splendor, and sophistication of the young woman she's becoming. I'm scared - to - death; because, I think that I saw what's coming right from the start. Captivated by the lack of insignificant maturity; I'm bridging the gap of self-doubt unto forgiveness. My mind is skipping rocks like emotions free fall with jaded intentions. Skimming water with a lack of imperfection; that's the catalyst to my broken and destitute past. I have a part-time facade that drapes over my self-deceit, or lack of self-confidence. I see her from across campus leaning against my Jeep; with her hands inside her back tight-jean-pockets. She's wearing my favorite dark - leather - jacket. Thus, she was dressed to kill. I said: "You - you smell like an angel. Well, you smell as an angel ought to smell." She smiled and said, “Tell me more. Tell me all about your life based off of Lucky Street." Her arms’ became crossed. My emotions ran-thin. My clothes they never fit me just - right. Feeling that I'm not good enough; thoughts like pins and needles, they run-thin beneath my - skin; deep - scrub, rinse, soak, wash, and repeat. My nerves are - razor - thin; every-time I turn my - back I wonder what she will say to make me sound like someone different? “If this is what you alleged was honesty, then honestly, I think I am freaking out. Darling, I was, crashing on Thursdays - into parked cars, exploding sideways into dashboards; okay, there's no way, there's no way. Okay, I'll confess about it.” I said. Her response was saturated with something like an alternate persona: “I heard a rumor; I heard that you said you were calling all the shots.” I interrupted, “you know you’ve never looked so good in black?” She started starring at the ceiling. The capillaries within my brain drain down to the last drop of blood, to flush my beat-red-face. My heartbeats to the drum of unanswered mistakes and, my facade unfold best with the lights down low. She crossed her arms and said: “This episode ran old, and this hatred is cold.” Close your eyes roll up the windows, take a breath, and inhale fate, laced with tainted poison. Disposition yourself with radiant dereliction; I need a disingenuous decision. Spread sheer passion; fasten-fashion-fasten your seatbelt. Save the billowing smoke as a facade that seeps from underneath your fork like tongue; or until the next time you kill me with your piecing words." She's been leaving life's dust at a standstill. In the third person, she holds my hands, and said: “My excruciating disputes are still left hanging in the air. Lean back, and expect at best an accidental collision; help me find exactly where it is that I fit in. Pump your brakes, nor go too slowly; and don't take this turn too soon.” I smiled. “I cannot plan or deceive you with the shots you have not called. I cannot describe the deciding facial expression that exist within your dreams; laced with misguided passion. Relax these rumor mills they merely float in two's; similar to emotional setup. It was nothing more than a desensitized thought underneath a breath and not heated passion.” “Watch your step, or I’ll gladly thrust you face first into these scandalous three fade folds, or mesmerizing poses; that you dug rather urgently,” Hannah said. With ambitions and poses spiked with false expectation. She said: “What makes you think that you know what’s better, for me?” I said: “With each waking breath, I suspect my grip on reality is fading fast, into an infrequent memory.” Hannah’s emergency parking brake crossed my tread; like a fine-line thread. My pride is clipped by; inappropriately-unconvincing-me, of the shallow life you had, utterly frustrated by all of my life-long critics-antics and subliminal semantics. I’ll never relate-belated-forgetfulness, of which is seeking to collide with my displaced indecision. All of my frets are breaking down with my regrets; on public-display. My mistakes caught me in the act. And I realized that my intuition was the motivation in disguise for suffocated confusion. I've found that the position of neutral is made up rather urgently.
I can't stop crashing on Thursdays. Seatbelts are a generic-alternative to the screeching-screaming, of I hate you. I never thought I would say this, but when I got sick of everlasting friction I thought to death. I was gleaming from ear to ear. Inside I'm heaving with regret. I thought in three - hours flat. I’m screaming to the peak of my speech, “In case you didn't get it, I'm never coming home. Take a step and get off my back. I would never comeback.” I frequently say that every other day; she knows the plight of my pride can't stand the test of any time. She asked: “Will you adore me, before December ends? Please be glad that I'm yours.” I smiled and walked away. Inside my life came crashing down on me; crackling in the flames my facade-simmers. The heat melts all of my useless and faulty intentions, laced with self-pride and intimation on display, for all to see. My life is jaded, jolted, and explicitly-exposed. Thank God for Jesus. Fear cast doubt on the flight to fight; jading the inability to stand in place. I tell myself not to worry, and hold on just try to save face. Insincerity is a diluted - charade, in disguise for routine hiding underneath-panicked-infatuation. Hannah’s an invasion of misinformation is due to terror. She's got a way with words much like a smooth-talker. Hannah ripped the plug on my desperate and destitute misfortune for thrice days; you better believe its straight! "But did you mean it?" My hope has been jilted with a loss of self-identified costs. My hope is consistent with a draw but did she really even mean it. “Of course I meant it.” She said. Paranoia plays the villain in my best of intentions. I contemplated my heartbeat exchanges no strings; with an unevenly, flagrantly, misguided flow set in emotion; as if to shift blame, such a shame. Discretion chooses to listen to an unavoidable whisper. I asked: "What did you say? What did you say, as I walked out the door? What did you say?” I took a little too much pleasure in her inflicted disposition. “Your tongue is dripping with insecurity. Don’t you - you want me back? I'm playing favorites; finally I'm back on the west coast. “I would never let something you’d regret come in-between us, again,” I said. She's never looked so good in black-satin; laced with soft silk in sheer appearance; she says it is straight Latin. Hannah’s a rumor-mill under my breath, and not a feeling on the ink underneath my pen. And now we’re, so even. “I kissed you because you're lips were too close, to my mouth.” She said: "Your eyes are infuriated with plush-shot-blood-red. I'm hiding underneath my bed." Hoping the coast is clear. I come out only to see the glare of her fury. Her eyes hit my face; her fingerprint’s sting; I've put in time while conjuring up an explanation. "This isn't what you think. This isn't what it looks like. I can explain," I said. Once again I felt her hand slap my face clean across. Then it hit me should I go this far, for a girl who doesn't know what she wants?
I'm desperate to feel true love colliding with fate and pain. We shared our high jacked-plight. Our excuses detailing our useless reflection by considering we’re bruised and broken. I'm breaking down again. I am a panicked wreck, and a pathetic mess. My gears are spinning as if there’s nothing left to give. She is falling fast as if asleep without a clue. My new belated beginnings’ are razor – proof. Yea, I wish there were proof; that’s worth the use. She cuts through my tension with unknown purpose. Through our worst intentions will find the truth, of our youth. Beads of streams down my plush-shot eyes: “Show me the door,” I said. Our relationship is on the verge of a conspicuous breakdown. I can see it already she will say I am so invited, but I’ve been the most gracious of hosts. I despise me for it, but I can’t deny that I still love you. I can’t let go or deny this bittersweet back and forth expression of an emotion. We're headed for an indecisive-collision. My foiled-backup strategy remains in isolation. The power of suggestion persists with urgency and brilliance; as a replacement for disdain. If I can't figure you out, then I'll gladly dig my own, figuratively speaking, grave. Cross me off your list. I snatch snag and catch my breath; thinking that I never want to know what it feels like to be a shadow of me. My last final breath feels expressed. I won't deny that I know what if feels to be a shadow of me. I know what this conspicuous revelation entails, or what it feels like to be a shadow of me. I'm digging through these bins of past tense emotions trying to make sense of me, and sorting out my belated esteem. Speculation casts doubt on the first time we made eye contact. Yeah, I felt pushed out of sight. For the first time, my palms were dripping wet with sweat, and a cold rush flew across my heart. I felt like catching my breath because it came up lost along the way. I said: “I would extend each and every breath that escapes my lips just to hear you say I was right and you-you were wrong. I know this is wishful thinking, but dear, I’ve been the most gracious of hosts. I'm momentarily paralyzed by the blaze in your eyes of gem. The disingenuous smile on your face exposes the words that I can’t express; surprise it’s true the glaze in my eyes says, I love you. She stated: "I'm giving time reach out and catch my breath. I realized that time has since resigned. I lost the cost of spent intentions; hiding behind a deep breath. The cost of spent intention has looked me in the eyes; so I gave up and evoked temporary disdain. Feeling that I’m not good enough, I hide self-doubt underneath a breath and not a feeling. Suggestions invade my thoughts of well-being; a catastrophic delusion. It was then I realized missed fights, and lost pride has been chalked up as an artificial loss.” The surprise is on me. I’ve held my breath crossed my fingers and placed them behind my back. Pride has taught me to react by taking captive my faults and, to exchange them for incomplete flawless mistakes; while I bite my lips trying to connect the dots with a lack of charm and memorable battle-scars. I said: “I’ll subject my luck until karma comes back around. Only this time, I toiled the gravity of the situation. And I can't let you pull me down. While you're considering what's supposed to be right, only God can tell me what’s pious. Self-control tends to lead to a covered up plan which was arranged with a brilliant sense of complacency. My soul belongs to Christ. My heart belongs to Him. And even though she says she knows what's best for me; I'm scared to death to think that she might be right. You’d never fathom a girl so lovely could be so cold a heartache killer. She plays the role of a villain-dramatically-starving for attention. Cat like thief she stole air from my lungs.
“Look at me in the eyes; tell-me what I want to hear. I used to take this life as complicated, but the tricks on me. I never knew beauty until you met me. I saw your picture, and in the background I heard our favorite song on the radio, The Story So Far, by New Found Glory. Starting then, I felt explosions of fireworks; letting me know, this time, we’ll make this last forever.” Hannah: “From hello, I’ve been catching my breath. My luscious lips took a gasp, of toxic oxygen; which was replaced ever so urgently, by the air in-between your lips. And by the look in your eyes, a simple guess would suggest, I misplaced the thorn in my side for the glowing of an eccentric; ‘I love you,' from my lips’, to yours. Why didn't I turn, and run? This love was meant to be; she laughs, but I know it’s true. “Did you really think I’d believe, you? I drank it all last night.” I’m searching looking for a sign life deep within this ice-cold-rust. “Your heart is rust at times; I’d even call it close to dust.” She said: “It’s so like you to say we’re through, but I think you know better than that.” It was as if the dawn had left for the day and a sunset sets in my sights. “I looked back, but I swear I never touched, your heart. I never touched your heart the way that you did mine.” To which she hastily replied: “I need you to see me, the way that I do.” I said: “I see you the way that I used to, but your insinuations suggest that you don’t take me seriously.”
She giggles, and then says: “I listened to our song on repeat from the other night. I was laughing out loud-remembering our nights on the town. I’d like to suggest I’m being ever so misled.” It’s my fault because I let her in, and things will never be the same. No, intense, infatuation will never be the same, not before I met Hannah; or, let her in. My happiness is being invaded, and my overreacting-skills-cut through the power of suggestion, a surprise; it was then I realized that I couldn’t leave her even if I tried. The memories of her glistening black lip-gloss-staining my pillowcase, I’ll never be the same. The dawn rarely let me see her other side. By sunset, she showed me, true love. The taste of salt saturated my tongue from another kiss underneath her mother’s basement. I can’t deny that I know what it feels like to be a shadow of me. I said: “It's a bit awkward considering that you don't see me; the way that I do.” Gosh, I wish she were here, but she mysteriously drives me out of my mind; catching my tongue underneath a breath now we’re contemplating forever. Every day that she’s away, my heart implores a sense of chemistry, which creates emotions that swells and burst. Continuous contempt builds up my tears to flush-out these on fire – itching red eyes; like there's nothing left in sight. I detest confusion, but this infusion is doing me in. I am sure that you already know. While flipping through the chronicles of my life, it dawns on me; that I see nothing on that really entertains me, the way that your smile does. Getting your picture out of my head is something that I’ll never get use to. I said: “At times, I thought you’re insane even a little deranged, but I can’t lie or deny that I’d rather die than to spend this night without you.” If she sticks with the plan, we’ll take life’s standstill by storm.
Stick with the friction of mistrust. She said: “I’ve been the best of complacent accomplices to the smile in-between your facade and you know that you’ll, never, get over me. I doubt that you’ll get over me. I’d rather rip my guts out than to hear you say, ‘I’m over you.’ I can’t feel the pain until, I concede to giving in, but I swear that I won’t get over you.” I said: “If you proclaim the truth of your youth to be honesty, then honestly, I think I am going to freak out. I can’t die without seeing one last smile; or until you take your last breath.”
“You’ll never get over seeing me late nights long talks, seeing familiar landscapes; will never be enough, ever again. I, kind of like the little rush, you give. Life has been dusted and extremely disgusted. The reality sets in, especially, with the use of bitter - excuses that chill,” she said. "Tell me - lies let me finish, and I'll begin. Believe it when I say this crash-warfare, is all about me. Okay, I will tell the truth. Don't even think to, lie about it." She seeps with bittersweet intentions. Love, I’m not over you. Wait a minute little back porch lady; wait a minute little back porch lady; subject me through hell again and again and again. I swear if I could hide this insistent fury based off agony, I’d hide it underneath a tank of toxic-oxygen, and now we’re even. Can you hear me? I'm screaming "I told you the truth, so get off my back already." I've taken this time out to find myself. I forgot to find myself until I ran down a one-lane trip; oh no, I forgot to take an airtight grip. The air from in between my lips suggests a secret kiss from underneath her basement steps; pour salt on my tongue. But lately the weather has been ever so increasingly, bi-polar, with a high of 35, and a low of the deepest parts of depravity. In seclusion, she's wrapped for a suitor. Love, I’m ashamed that you don’t miss me. A sense of heat exhumed a complex skyline in-between a bittersweet illusion and fear to take a fight. And the rejection of granting forgiveness is due, partially, because of you. The test of time has taught me to stay in time, or inline; which ever comes most natural, my rapid statements are deep within. I can't deny that my emotions are razor thin. My raging doubtful conscience has taken its toll and has even made me fold. She's pushed me away for the last time; or until the next time that Hannah talks to me in riddles. She expresses sorrow with pathological - distress. Cat like thief you stole - air from my lungs; press your lips across my mouth, and pump me back to life. It's like CPR, five pumps to my chest-two-breathes upon my lips. I need to cut through all of this tension and misguided intention. "I’m ever so delighted to express my deep, heartfelt gratitude, for bringing me back to life.” Trigger squeeze, gently press, and fire two - shots to my head. I heard your voice, pounding, in my heart and mind; by the way, I know I whispered on a cold fall night. I’m confessing my love, but apparently it wasn’t enough. You said you would never get over me. So, I embraced hope-hoping the past would all boil over. Transparency eludes traces of the truth of your bittersweet youth. Picture perfect, you paint an elaborate portrait. Anxiety is portraying a sense of heat that I could never bear to touch. If timing were evidence then you've left behind facial expressions; hiding all the evidence.
Of which indicates you'd never let something I’d regret come in between us, again. I so adored the familiar faces you made, especially, when the earth stops cold at dawn. Catalyst, you caught me in the act of disbelief. Not even the trees could relate to the timing of presence; of which you shamelessly presented. You were three, and a half sheets to the wind before I put the key in the door. I'd never fall for the promise of a faultless memory. And I’m ever so elated considering you don’t see me, the way that I do.” I’m searching in-between the thin-fine-lines of chastity and spite. A condescending approach has left me starring into her ocean blue eyes. At last I located and took a hold of the missing puzzle piece; her heart. I am a perfectionist by blatant-insecure-design, and a freaking panic of neglect. My downfall is that the lonely position of neutral is made up ever so urgently. As flattery suggests, I let someone steal my hope. Disappearing hope is all but gone. And there you go, off again. Falling apart at the seams until I retract my bitter-end; she left me for dead. Hannah has a big mouth or away with one-sided-disputes. And even though she claims that she knows what’s best for me; I’d build a bridge just to burn this town down. My love is the only one who hasn't pulled my guts out; at least not yet. So, you love is all I caught. She said: “Say what you said the way you said it last night!” I said: “Hannah, spare the details you never stop or tell. Kiss me until I die and if my final breath escapes my cold lips, then touch them to your cherry red-lips-stick; and bring me back to life. My final breath feels gone-gone. Hannah, I wish you knew what it felt like to be a shadow-of-me. Walk away with the shattered leafs. Smile love, here is my heart.” Hannah tore the clutch out of the car and the guts out of the biggest part, of my heart. I cast into rejection the risks that we abandoned. I can't believe all the risks that we took; skipping class, signing parental signatures on school discipline forms, and the taste of bittersweet wine in dusty cups. It's all caught up to me to this day to be honest I didn't even care. Because to take that back would mean I had to take back everything that I never knew, I had to give. I lacked insurance or assurance; I thought that I had nothing left to give. I'm finally realizing that to get through this is going to take more than everything that I didn't know I had to give.
The best part of my insecurities draws attention unto my flawless failed backup plan. To take this back is going to take everything that I never knew I had to give. I've found that isolation is the worst when you're alone. Locked inside a freight train; I’m so alone. Speeding down one way lane; jumping over fence posts. Appear they do our footprints outline the sunrise of a bright horizon; such a brilliant lie. Shaking sweaty palms clenched tight lips: "So, Hannah can we meet tonight?" I've got a mouth full of regret. I wish the pressure from my lungs would violently fill with the smog and smoke; I scream: “I didn't sort out the mess we made. I never intended to place pressure under your ear drums. Perceive me as a thought, and not a feeling. I never meant or regret to put the blame on you; this was my entire fault. If we pick it up where you left off, I’d be screaming out all of my honesty.” After I said what I needed to; these tears began to stream down my face. I'm sick of all the pressure. She said: “What makes you think that you know what’s better, for me?” I said: “Don’t fall into this hole you’ve dug around.” I’m starting to wonder I’m to be blamed for this. I hate this, I'm wrong, but don't count on my sorrow or expressing any guilt. I don't have a thought left to spare. God threw me a lifeline, His Son, just in time; to keep these eyes of mine from swelling shut. I was sinking fast. We count down the days until our previously mistaken average mistakes; look me square in my shot-blood plush red eyes. Irritated, irate, crazed - feelings stare me down, without any reservation for adequate representation; all of my second chances peak at an all time low. Damn it, time has broken down and proved her to be a liar. She said: “If you promise not to tell; then I swear that your insecurities will remain underneath a breath a not a feeling. I will trace your endless insecurities down until I catch you with a cheap shot.” She smiled.
She sought me out, but this isn’t me. I need to remind myself that this isn’t me. No, this isn’t me. Please. Please, believe me; don’t let this pose a threat to my personal esteem. I said: “Okay, I won't let them know. Either way, you better love me. Take a breath and exhale the truth; way before the aftermath took the presence of an unwelcome invitation.” She enunciated by the itching within my ears revealing that by believing on Christ, we have a seatbelt. Saved I am. No matter what you can never take this from me." I smiled. She said, "I feel the same way. I said: “Okay, I've caught you in the act." Hannah looked ever so surprised and with sarcasm said; "Hands help me - I'm high." Snap out of it; I wake up, nodded out and dreamed that I took a shortcut down Bevin Avenue, jumped out slammed my door," and rushed into Quincy's Coffee shop. There was a man with a mask. Oh damn, I walked right into a stickup. A masked man said; "Nobody moves and nobody get hurt." The thief sported a ski-mask and clenched, in his hands, what appeared to be a Pellet gun. My eyes open in a cold sweat. Wrecking hotels, I remember thinking of wrecking rooms in hotels. I speculated that Hannah had already vanished. There are traces of dust flying, scattered within my oxygen, just my luck. The wind was left hanging in the bitter breeze, of a west coast spring.
Ruining my life that's what she has been good for. “Hannah did you fathom that you'd forget me? Hannah did you think I'd forget?” She smiled she smiled with the same old caught in the act grin. I said: “Surprise I’m not impressed with this over-dramatic meltdown scene.” Hannah screeches: "I dare not simply despise. You know it's more than that. I can't imagine for one more second that I could hate you anymore than I do right now." I smile, and said, “I detest you more.” Please show me the ragged screen door. I think I am going to freak out; yet and still you're losing sleep over me." I've never experienced such tension following evasive suggestions. Fury couldn't help, but to waste my regrets. Fill her eyes to the brim with a patch teary vibes. And exchange useless lies into helpless nice tries. She slammed the door shut. "If this is what you daydream as being honesty, then self-defeat is splendid." I said: "If this is what you allege is honesty, honestly, I think you need to take a Xanax right now." "You're right; I-I need to take that pill. Every time turn my back I wonder what you will say to make me sound like someone different:" she said. "What makes you think that you know what's better, for me?" I asked. I'm dying inside tripping over dead ends falsified distorted friends sporting all of the latest mistakes; fading over useless friends; they've changed without a word; only portraying a feeling. I can't deny that I don't ever want know what it feels like to take on the role of being a shadow-of-me. "It's safe to say that our love is gravitating together with the high-hope of making this last forever; this is the start of forever; you and me. “Why are you ruining this beautiful life, of which was sewn together with a brilliant-abstract design?” I continue: “I swear it takes more than time to fix the thorn on the inside of my heart; pressing ever so softly along God’s fingerprints; caressing my soul.” she said: "I recognize that this is your distress. And. I promise that I concede you don’t see me, the way that I do. Let’s try time after time; I’ve tried to suggest, being you have nothing to do with me. Ruining my life, love ruining my life, it’s what you take pleasure in. Fall in love with yourself, or fall out of one sided disputes that you conjure up ever so, well ever so, cleverly.” “I'm drunk off of your kiss, for a third time since late last week. Okay I know in part what is wrong, and that is I have Borderline Personality Disorder. The wild pulse of my youth seeks the puzzle pieces to your heart.” She said. She put everything that I’ve ever said together. Two by two or connect the dots. She said: “Damn it! I didn't mean to bring you any trouble.” She leaned into me; tightly I wrapped my arms around her figure and then asked: “Am I still the love, of your life?” I replied, "Yes, darling I still admire you more than anyone. So many people close to me have cut me down. I know you think that I am going over - board, but here I am alive." Hannah talked with me; she shattered my self-doubt, right down about the pavement. All of her emotional missed opportunities stare me down. She said she was raging on the inside, and breakings are my stitches, which were woven-together in cross stitch like fashion. I said: “Time is up; I need this urgently by no other means. Every time I turn my back; I wonder what you will say to make me sound like someone different. I'm waiting in turn for the truth. I've given her every cheap-shot. "Hannah, is your mother - home? Are we still spending time, alone? I need to see you, in the Pacific Time Zone.” The note was caught and read aloud, in front of the class. Talk - about a change of face. She whispers, “Call me.” I'm terrible on the phone. It's chilling to the bone, to think of her and me, alone.
“Hannah, I've given you reasons to leave. Please don't act like you really - had a problem with all of my attention fixated on submitting, suspicion unto your blatant errors. I'm censoring suspicion for self-esteem depletion, deletion, and don’t forget your disingenuous ambition. I'm obsessed with your future.” Hannah whispers: “Shut up, and kiss me.” With a single kiss, all of my emotions erupt, and control takes over like an addiction. She asks, “me, why are you shaky?” I smiled with a face-full of surrender. My overreacting skills say, “Shut up and kiss her now.” There may not be a forever; damn it. I've never been so certain of anything. I've never been surer, sure of a girl, a damsel like her. I'm terrible on the cell phone, falling asleep to the sound of your breathing; or, to the dial tone, "Hannah, I so adore, your indecision.” It’s so not my vision. Division let's get remission; I'm so shattered over what I've just done. She whispers to me: “Hit - repeat, take control, reassure me, exacerbate my emotions, avoid decadence, and crush my heart again, and again, and yet again. Crush my heart without compassion. I said: "everyday, restlessly, relentlessly, faults find me. I must admit, you’ve never looked so good in black-satin. Mistakes pin-point me out they do; with eroded rusty precision. Go on; with your glossy jet-black nail polish, flip through the pages of faulty reasons, which amount to excuses as to why I should have stayed. Yea, love – expresses an explanation uncovering my foiled – jaded - belated backup plans; toiled together with a brilliant sense of urgency. She said: “I’d never let something you’d regret come in between us, again.” Crystal clear is Hannah’s blemish less face; of which kept tripping me in and out of self-consciousness. The future pulled me into an alternate reality with the ocean of her blue eyes. My mind is on a hit or miss, repeat; and forfeit all of your love, to me. “I promise to misuse and abuse your heart because no matter what we say, we’re never through. Even though there are memories and battle scars in your future; our time together is foiled by a series of beautifully orchestrated charades. Blatant mistakes and misguided intention; forged together true, love. Love I am addicted, I can’t get enough, of you. I’m learning to entertain anxiety, by the in look her eyes. A freaking panic of a wreck suggests self doubt, is out for the count. Everything I see in your eye means the world, to me; the way that your jet-black hair swings from side to side, and the streak of orange puts you on for display.
What a brilliant design; she's a glutton for self-design. Every bridge I ever built burned down. For a change give me a couple of second chances. “Refrain from going too far because you’ll need me, and I’ll need you too,” I said. Every time I turn my back, I ask myself, what she’ll say to make me sound like someone different. Hannah: “I've spent the past few years catching up to my life; I see a crystal fall, yeah, lover, I see the future in your eyes. My dreams scream that I am not good enough; don’t you worry about that. Finally, you will be forced to face the truth of your youth. Nothing will come in between us, again; unless you want to throw me away, but I'm not ready to leave; for once you will have to face, and accept the truth." I said: "Okay, but don't you dare imply that I didn't warn you. It’s safe to say, you’ve been stalking me, and cutting through my damn excessive emotionally charged over reacting skills,” I said. Hannah: "Kill me, kill me, yeah, kill me, and don't you dare leave any trace." I replied: “Hannah, hit the lights, or so as if to say good-bye. I'm over being with, or without you. A breath escaped, left self-esteemed on my lips; kiss me again, and – again, love kiss me before I catch my breath; cat like thief go on and steal the breath from my lungs. Wait, what did you say? I've never felt this better, with a bittersweet love. This is so brand new to me, but you vaguely know, what I know. So, cut me a little slack. I'm here deeply connected." The panicked look in her eye screams she’s waiting, for the phone to ring. I expect the worst. But I’m hoping for the best. This might take a lifetime, just to find out it's alright. I've tried stretching my skin. I've tried sewing my transparent torn apart replacement - heart back together the stitches held their appearance in vain, a thin sheet, without a stain. She pulls and confuses the best of me; yet and still I would extend each and every part of me, just to prove that I am right, and you-you were wrong. The tip of the iceberg begins with her bright red lip-stick staining my favorite t-shirt. This isn’t hard to understand; that the best of me exists because of God. And the love you have as my love portrays a fulfilled promise; outlining the truth of my youth, as failed proof of a toiled reality; but your lips were too close, to my mouth.” I said. “My dream - my dreams are enough, with you. You infuriate all of my negativity, and you second doubt my emotional defeat. Settle the score with my guiltless experience, of which I would have died for just yesterday. It all starts with a hug, from you to me; my sorrow hates you because the wrong side of anger is being torn from my heart; arranging the worst-part of my day. My past seeps in nodding in and out of self consciousness, but now I’ll spend the rest of my life loving, God.” She said. “I will never stop loving you; your lips are living proof.
My lips are burning from another kiss downstairs – beneath your mother’s basement. Pour salt on my tongue; I love the way that your plush - red lips stains my pillowcase. A vision of untouchable tranquility turned out to be 21-shots. There's no sense in deflecting the ridged thorn deep within my ribs. I made my mind up; nothing – nothing will change this feeling. Not this time, no - not this time.” I said. The key to unblock her tongue can be retrieved within her exhilarating heart; underneath a red rose - scattered within a transfiguration of my deepest of fears. In my mind - she was on her knees begging me with school girl passion; much like skillful tease. To reach deep within made my mind soar with sheer - passion and a lack of devious intention. This whole time, I should have been down on bended - knees. I said: “Tell me what you think, about being open? I need you, yeah, I need you around. Don’t concoct lies or goodbyes when getting to the point.” “While walking backwards I think I finally realized life may work out in the end. From the minute, I laid eyes on your vibrant specimen of a body; full of character flaws I crumbled inside. My walls rushed down to below a hazy skyline. Ecstasy couldn't bear to be bitter or sweeter than this feeling. This couldn’t be better even if I lied. When I said hello, I was worried because my clothes never fit just right. Butterflies tickled deep down my stomach. I knew anxiety decided to exemplify a simple, hello. Hannah said.” "Hannah, please slice, and cut through the tension with your - dramatic over reacting skills." She said, “Ben, I hope it is not too long or too late before I lose track of your name. What’s your name again?” She laughed, looked at me and our eyes caught sight; as if for the first time. She fell into my arms, and I said, “Tell me what you feel about, about being open?” I said: “Well I think it’d be alright. I just want you to know that things will never be the same. “Okay, whatever that means, I got to run! Bye!” Underneath my breath, I replied: "Tomorrow, you will be calling me. This will burst all over-again tomorrow," She said: “What did you say? Ben, under your breath, what did you say?” I anxiously said, “Oh, no I didn’t say anything. Bye.” Sigh. I said: “I’m seeping with a need for a cut from this razor, like a paper needs a deep slit. I need this. In case you didn’t get it, this is going to take everything that I never knew I had to give. Our departure ends the same. My frightened fight of flight frames memories and battle scars. Time remains insufficient for an efficient transmission of decisions pardoned by a miracle that’s documented from above. I’m not reaching out, and I swear that I won’t let you blind me.” My bones are sore, and my skin is cut. I wake up in a hospital bruised and plenty broken. There's the taste of blood in my mouth. I remember wrecking hotel rooms. My bones scream with discontent. My skin is bruised and broken. Disconnection is overboard with the inhalation of a grand stand escape. I smell a spray of Escape. I closed my eyes to enhance the projection of failed memory. I don't care to forget a distant memory; of a girl, her name, was Hannah. She was my first kiss, and my all time second wish. I sank head first into a surreal car accident. I speculated until I was nearly declared brain dead; making up suggestions. Yeah, I’m asking questions that exacerbate the bond we once embraced, with a grain of salt. If lies were so, I so fixated on jet – lag time zones. Please contemplate all of the compassionate yet bitter - sweet emotions; which were threatened by an existent shadow underneath the deepest of heartfelt decisions. I said: “I see your eyes your 21 and barley sober; drunk off of a feeling that exists within a chastised heart; full of regret. All signs are consistently pointing to the West Coast. It’s apparent that I’m setting me up for denying what you can't get over. I've suppressed my breath to keep from spilling my guts; remembering the time on your bedroom floor where you told me you loved me, but I swear I love you more.” Just like way back when, I’ll spend the rest of my life seeking Jesus and making you happy.” And just like an abbreviation for destitute, I’m feeling left behind. I’m learning to react and retract the misinformation misstated under duress while stating confusion. She wanted a confession, but I won’t let go! Hey day dreamer, you’re acting like a stranger! Making her fall for me makes more sense, when we’re all alone. It’s so much harder to do on the phone. I wait for a dial tone two, three second she picks up, and my words they fall apart. And I forget to pick up my heart so that I can breathe. After I catch my breath, I pleaded the fifth hung up and placed you on speed redial.
Now that I know you - I’ll play the heart attack, and you’ll play the medication. You know it’s funny because I've got a feeling underneath a breaching conclusion; I can’t help, but to see her on the other side; which is where she’s seen me for way too long. I continue: “If I could swear to something, I’d write a promise; of, I love you, high in the clouds signed, with my footprints high in the skyline; laced with a smile upon my face. Take this wink, and a sigh on a late-night flight as you lay here in my arms.” She said: “I love you, but don’t you dare take this as a broken heart up for a series of cheap late nights, denying the plausibility that there’s more to me than meets the eye.” I told her that I understood, and I truly believed that I did comprehend. I’ve concluded that there’s excitement in what the truth brings. A suicide confession laced with traces of self renovation. Parents, I don't fault you. There's a pity in what the truth brings. I'm injected without compassion, or admission of the guilt that I don’t have. Opposition runs through my guilty - veins, which constricts my capillary consciousness. My head is spinning out of control. Inside a verbal confrontation takes place: “Please don’t go, this isn’t me, and I-I hate what I have become.” Take a look and hold it tight. Take a break; open your mouth, and ex out your eyes. They will dismiss the circles underneath her red eye-line; her cries cut veins in my blood. And her cheap-shot lies catch me by surprise. She said: "Get a knife and cut through the tension; out off your - cheap shot lies." Hannah’s lies are getting worse; I can see the headlights coming. I can see the Headlines: "There was a car crash late-last night, and the victims are collateral damage.” Another statistic of what we think, yet fail forever in faith to feel. The blatant makeup of your design plasters self- doubt round about those blood-shot eyes. I had a date late last night with fate. Let's just say, awkward. I face palmed a time no, two. My mouth and memory were dry - erased. For the first time in my life, I wanted to jump out of my skin. And abandon me within. The only alternative were to lay here, face thrust fast first onto the pavement. I'm laying here underneath my bed; with my regrets, pulling off my facade; I fret over all of my suspicious intentions. Dating fate didn't work out too well; oh well. Maybe something will spark with a panic attack. No, let’s not go there. Candle light dinners and boring movies are getting old. I let know, I told her so. Don't come around here unless you've got something different. I've found that I accept myself, when I know who I am. I'd spill my guts with nine millimeters of prayer. My hands are trembling and folded. My prayers are sent up to Jesus constantly. I'm tripping over dead ends relying on disingenuous constantly absent friends. I'm hiding in the thickness of belated frustration, underneath my bedroom - door. The lights are out. Burn a candle, and I promise to; puff, blow it out. I've been praying like nothing else exists. I frantically scream! “Dear, I - I never meant to - cause you pain.” Hannah was tripping over misguided frets. I'm scrapped and sober. I can't help but to fathom hearing a pin drop and be silent. Hannah looked me in the eye, and promises to say, goodbye. “It takes more than displaced attention, to let her go. It takes immensely more than a spell or two, to let you know,” I said. Hannah belted out a swift response: "Ben, get over here, and do what you do best; spin - lies - round about my heart. I said: “You’ve been disingenuous from the very start, and to be honest I doubt that little will change; the tarnished - fragile look on your face. Grind the dust ridden jagged road, with threaded discomfort. "Stay clear of that detour near third, and Johnson St. You may want to drive on that old country road, near Jackson. I believe the name of the road is Jackson. Head West, then get off on 43rd Avenue. Go two blocks, and take a left onto Harrison St. I am three houses down." I'm cotton mouth with stuttered - speech is such a lisp; slurring out sequence, and out of time, relaying unfortunate, facial expressions, and then sleeping with misinformation. Damn, I’m such a mess today. I need a Francis Fix, but I doubt that I'd ever go back to being the old me. I thought: "Come hell or high paved highways; I'm reading in between broken lines." This time can you really be sure?" My throat became lump drought dry, sparring with epithets of the person I used to be, stared me down until I finally accepted the person you have become. And, my mouth felt corroded by this voice box full of acid regrets. This isn't the way that I envisioned seclusion. I've been tricked by my own falsified intuition. Flattery gets the best of me, and most of the time I’d have to say that, I like it. She said: “Three years ago I never would have thought to feel sorry. Now, I am very sorrowful.” I thought to myself: “I don't have the room to spare her. I don't have the time to forget the love that we once shared.” I can't bear to stand this pain. It's like my heart is bleeding deep, deep - beneath a stack of rocks. I'm glad that she wants to meet tonight. I prayed to God, I don’t have a fight; or plight to take flight tonight. I can't help but to wonder, why oh, why does she wear sunglasses in the house? I was so nervous as my eyes bounced with a silly glow. Hannah said: "Sure. We can meet later tonight." My parents will be out of town for the weekend. It's so cold out so, we can watch a movie or two by the fireplace. Is that cool?" I replied "Yes, that’s very cool. Well, I'll talk to you later then, Ok?" I remember her saying: "okay, I will talk to you later." I winked right before I walked away; her face was bright – beat red. She said: “I had a lump in my throat, sweaty palms, and my clothes never fit just right. Self-consciousness intrudes on my self-esteem. I was jolted with anxiety, because love, I’m shamed that you don’t see me the way that I do. Thinking about him is all that I can do.” In my dreams, I wake up nodding in and out of self- reflection. I felt her watching me, looking right through me. We lay in the bed of my old dusty pickup truck; right off a dirt road near 45th, and Wall Street. She held me tight, while laying her tired head upon my fate beaten chest; for rest. She raised her head; her jet-black hair hanging down her shoulder’s and professed her love: “Ben, I love you.” Her eyes they danced, and her silky smooth palms become sweaty, with much awaited anticipation; hoping that my intentions, were as good as hers. I felt the earth stop cold at dawn. And I could barely understand myself; for a moment I felt deaf. Yea, I was just one sure shot away from falling apart. I rehearsed the words to throw around; late night up until the sun went down. I confessed my love, but apparently that wasn't enough. This may be over before I put my rusty key in the door. "The way that your hair swings over your hazel-eyes, makes the motor in my head burn. Yea, the motor in my head burns the midnight oil away. I love your long hair; half of which is jet-black hair with half colored with red streaks; it hangs in a side pony tail, just like a rock star, just like the lead singer from the band New Years Day. I've never seen her before; I guess I’m just a sucker that’s fallen in love with a scandalous liar. I hope you hate me, even if you don’t mean it because I want you to stay; even if it’s not what you mean. Let's roll the dice and take the biggest chance of our lives.” Hannah said: "I despise that I cherish you so much because it scares me to death.” She smiled. Hannah knew, I’d never crumble; for the promise of a painless memory. If I had the guts right now, I would embrace her tightly, even until her ribs - break. Yea, I’ve been up three-hours past the set of clear twilight; or, until last midnight. “Well if this is what you perceive is honesty, then honestly, I really thought you’ve freaking freaked out. Go on say it like you mean it; go on - go on, you; don’t even really have to mean what you say. Admit that you were wrong and I- I’ll be sure to let you know, I was right.” She said with a smile; and then wrapped her arms around me. Ben replied: “I adored you - right from the start. I can’t deny that I hate your smile.” If you asked me three years ago, I would have thought that this was all a big mistake. Jesus is second to none. “As long as you know this, we will never part. You’ve taken the time to spare me. This symbolizes the calamity of the facade that pulls my guts every which way from within. Empathy evades reflectors and metal detectors alike, avoiding mirrors I don’t want to see myself here at all. An overexerted - appearance is at odds with the facial expression attached to a reckless heartbeat. The transfigured illumination in her eyes frustrates the entire infrastructure, within my heart; but I still, love you. I take no pleasure in your sorrow. I take no spite in the vicious attacks, against you. Sticking up for you was the least I could do, nothing will come in-between us, again. I'd do most all, but lie for you. Inside I have the veracity to question the screams within my train of thought. I'm tripping off your words, falling end over end; I'm dividing much unprovoked attention. You are all I want.” I said.
Forever and an autumn sunset will bind us together, forever. She said: "I'm a name under a facial expression, just an appealing feeling. With the promise of a clashing memory, we can take life with a pinch of salt. By the presence of a trail built with failure intentions, cringing tears, exacerbate fears. Exemplifying surreal years in exchange for some wrongs; don't make a right here, at all. A daydream called into question my sense of self; disagreeing with me never wronged a right. Looking in the mirror down a dark corridor; fixing my clothes trying to catch your eyes. Tell me life isn't fair, and I'll undoubtedly believe you,” I said. Traces of useless excuses complicate my facade from within; a mouth full of regret. I feel the power of suggestion to fear nothing. Fear nothing, but God. Choose to love who you are. And don't let the colors or dollar signs; bring you out of the shadows,” she said. There's steaming window friction out of the back-seat window. "Do you “Promise me? Do you promise-promise not to tell?” She lays her head on my shoulder. “Of course I promise, you don’t have to ask, you already know,” I said. It’s surreal to be here, being here with my arms wrapped tightly around her; as we lounge on her dark-blue couch; with her hair hanging down around her shoulder’s. As we lay near the fireplace, she keeps me warm; just like she warmed my heart way back when. And I realized this was all made up urgently. And it’s everything I need. I needed this right from the start. The truth of my youth had me looking in the wrong directions, but I can't take it back. And even though I won't forget about it, I can finally bury my past, and leave the truth of my youth intact, without coming back. Words don't come to mind, so I profess nothing of the speaking kind. The sound of my voice in slow motion depicts me waiting at home alone. “You don't have to ask, you already know,” I said. This is all I want; she takes over the delightful part of my infatuation, building adrenalin, the type that kills. Hannah said: “Based off a lack of trust I must admit; I'm ashamed to be myself. It's time you get what you came here for, and try to connect the dots. I will never live this down. No, I'll never live this down. Another barrel full of disregard for the forgiveness that you've shown me, I'll never live this down.” “Don't hold your breath, you don't have to ask; you already know. I could suggest condescending explanations, but love, I'm ever so dedicated; addicted to the person you've become. I hate the thought of you at home alone, up late night three hours past a perfect twilight, laying in cold-sheets,” I said. Another passionate kiss underneath her basement, three hours past mid-light, she pours salt underneath my tongue; and tomorrow we'll do it all over, again.