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At a loss for words
Unable to think
I look at you
And suddenly I can speak.

My Savior

Now I lay down with you to sleep,

I pray your silhouette is mine to keep,

thy angels watch us through the night,

And keep us safe till morning’s light.

Now I lay down with you to sleep,

I pray your heart is mine to keep,

If we should die before we wake,

Bless us Lord our souls to take.

Now I lay down with you to sleep,

I promise I am forever yours to keep,

Angels watch us through the night,

And wake us with the morning light.

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I feel like I need to explain this one. I usually just leave my poetry up to interpretation but this time I want to explain it. I am not Christian, but to those of you who are, you probably know this is almost the exact same as the Children Lord’s Prayer. That was my point. I used the prayer and changed it to refer to our relationship. I am in love with someone, and he is my savior. The Lord is the savior for Christians, in a similar way to how Kyle is my savior. He has saved me from myself, just as God/Jesus saved Christians from their sins. This poem is for him, and I love him more than anything. 

Repair

Once lost in despair

Thinking I was beyond repair,

I found you.

Red Rose

This red rose may have its thorns

But I reach to pick it anyways

For I know that in the end

It will be more than worth it. 

I Don't Care if I Die

Hello darkness, my old friend.

It’s been a while, but I’ve come back to see you again.

I wanted to tell you: I don’t care whether I live or I die,

But I don’t want to be the direct fault of my own demise.

Can you help me with this, my long lost friend?

Just please bring this darkness to an irrefutable end.

I know a Girl

I know a girl,

with pain in her eyes

and sorrow in her soul

and regret in every fiber of her being.

I know a girl,

a very lovely girl

who hides much beneath

and no one ever notices.

I know a girl

with a shattered smile

with melancholy laughter on her lips

with scars on her soft, impressionable wrists

with doubt plastered upon her flawless brow.

I know a girl

who is “okay”

who is “fine”

who is just tired of this life.

I know a girl who is broken.

I love this girl who is falling apart. 

I know a girl I want to fix.

The Paintbrush

She reaches for her paintbrush, it’s time again to paint.

She holds it close to her canvas, not using any restraint,

All the while keeping her expression quite quaint.

This painting shall be her finest, her most magnificent vignette.

She paints in crimson red, lustfully meticulous as if outlining her silhouette.

This final piece she will fail to ever regret. 

Almost now complete, she paints her last stroke.

She saves the best for last, as her finale can all but be revoke.

But now comes a twist you won’t believe, as if it were a gruesome joke.

She painted a gorgeous picture upon a canvas, you see?

But her brush was but a blade, her canvas but the wrist of she.

The crimson paint she used was but her liquid life she wished to free.

But now her lovely painting fades,

For her arm holds no more blood to keep it vivid in shades.

Forevermore, she continues to fade ‘til nothing else remains.

But now, you see, there is but one more twist.

For her mind was really the razor

And her heart was but her wrist.