Empty Echo

the city lights try to reassure us, tomorrow

the sun will be back... the streets show no

remorse for the lives that they swallow

everyday.
sitting next to him in his car, tears falling

from those dark eyes full of mascara and

liner, streaking her face with pain bleeding

midnights screams. the broken life of a

tattered soul, who at some point forgot what

she was supposed to be when she grew up...now

frozen waters harbor her heart, one wrong move

it could be shattered and her life would be

over.

She clutches her purse as if it is a lifeline,

as if it is her breath, her addiction, and

also her worst fear... inside a hidden pocket

is a razorblade, inside another, scissors

bandages... She has only tried burning once or

twice, drugs... more than that, and there is

such a rush when she knows that she can save

herself heartache with blood.

Isn't it so insane to actually be able to carve

into your skin and not feel anything,

perfection could never be attained and so by

making imperfections at least you aren't on the

fence between worlds of perfect and imperfect,

now you are truly a flaw, an imperfection, a

word written in the wrong place, completely

incomplete of what they all expected of you.

I am in a room, Walking back and forth, the

lullaby of an empty echo, the sound of my

shoes creating a sincere silence, a broken

smile, tears...Nothing, I cant even cry

because I have forgotten how to produce

emotion.

In the essence of our past, I could almost

bring myself to a place of substance, where I

used to know how to laugh, or be who I truly

am, but Close isn't close enough.
We were once eachothers air, lifeline, we were

what kept the other one inside and alive in

this life of "half empty-ness"

The city lights cant reassure that I will see

the sun tomorrow, the black streets will

swallow every ounce of anything I had believed

in,
because I know that when I step out of this

car, it will be the end of everything we lived

for, for so long, our entire selves,
The Fragranced air has now turned stale and I

know that It is time to walk away...

I clutch my purse with every bit of strength I

have left, knowing that I can let you go when

I get upstairs to my apartment...in an