Simply This

My pale skins
Aches
For a million years or more
This story has been told
With an ending so sweet
It has been written and rewritten
For the romantics to recite
The poets to ponder
The skeptics to question
And for me to believe in

Gasping and Grabbing

With an infinite amount of numbers in this world
I am only one
One in which
Thinks
Feels
And feeds
On the insides
Of others
There is something to be said
For the character flaws within
They leave some cold and unknown
A pathway
Leading
To dead ends
And doors which await
A key only one possesses
Others are wide open
Bleeding
Screaming
Asking to be
Touched
Moved
Melted
Submitting themselves to the unknown
Demanding to have their hearts
Ripped out
Broken
Stilling and quieting the sound of their own skin
Just to feel another breathe
That single breath
Can define
The very depth in which
One can reach
Yet the million moments in between each breath
Between then and now
Well
They go unnoticed
Ignored
Taken for granted
Lost in the mediocrity
Which life without breathing
Has become