“I knew i was losing you, But when you tossed me into the mail box it finally hit me- I was losing me.”

I’m not sure if i’m to blame for all my relationship failures. But when i look at the wreckage I am the only commonality.

I should have known the moment your lips met mine that we were having an affair with borrowed time.

There was no way to save her. Believe me i wanted to. But how could I, when I could barely save myself.

I was only ten the first time I remember getting stabbed. My agony pierced the air with a sickening scream.

My wells have run dry, but not because i miss you any less, I finally accept that this is life.

I should have known when I started to fall in love, It was never meant to last long.

I am an emotional equation, continually miscalculation, escalation, you should be elated!

You’ve retracted your rays of warmth. You’ve pulled the clouds to cover sunlight. I think everyone is growing more concerned as the days keep passing and you’re still absent.

What started as a friendly fire quickly turned into assassination. What did i do to jump to number one in your hit list?

These words crash over and threaten to destroy me. I cannot find the stars so far beneath these waves of insecurity and mistrust, their light has seemed to vanish.

Have I been buried alive by chronic pain? I can taste the dirt as they put me in the earth, thick on my lips like the honey that drips down my lips.

Be proud of a body that bares the burden of being buried only to bloom.

Speak to me again, so I’m writing another poem i’ll never send.

I’d rather suffer in silence than be subjected to deafening stares. I feel like I’m in an abusive relationship with my body, no one can see the bruises.

Don’t you know that shedding your pain only makes it reverberate.

On my worst days my brain tries to trick me into wishing i stayed. Its really trying to convince me that i didn’t deserve to survive.

Fear of loss when everything falls upon us and crushes a bit of our soul, deep in our veins where broken hopes live. How do I find my strength beneath endless layers of horrifying thoughts?

Like as the culver on the bared bough Sits mourning for the absence of her mate.

I am not the kind of lost that needs finding. I am the kind of lost that needs healing.

I am not the kind of lost that needs finding. I am the kind of lost that needs healing.

We all yearn for what we have lost. But sometimes, we forget what we have.

Cell phones, mobile e-mail, and all the other cool and slick gadgets can cause massive losses in our creative output and overall productivity.

A practical botanist will distinguish at the first glance the plant of the different quarters of the globe and yet will be at a loss to tell by what marks he detects them.

It is difficult to estimate the misery inflicted upon thousands of persons, and the absolute pecuniary penalty imposed upon multitudes of intellectual workers by the loss of their time, destroyed by organ-grinders and other similar nuisances.