I want to miss him,

But when we last kissed,

She was on his lips.

That taste will not fade.

I tried to find love,

I tried to build strength,

I tried to feel hope,

But she’s in my brain.

She just will not leave.

So this is the day

To leave her your lips

And find my own way.

Lead

Inside of me

Thick

Heavy

And gray.

It's not a

Tangled mess

Like a knotted up

Necklace

That hands could fix.

It's broken

Like pieces of

Lead.

Empty

Empty

empty space

A pretty heart like yours

Can just erase.

A little deception

And a little bit wrong

But your cute little heart

Calls like a song

To me

For me

Only me.

So wrapped up

In that fantasy

Only to realize

You didn't want me.

I run

Away

From a stupid heart like yours

And I run

Into empty

Empty

empty space.

Youth

Torn.

Flowers

Replaced

With thorns.

She is born.

(There are 49 characters and 9 words)

My heart keeps beating

Thud.

Thud.

Thud.

The sound of falling

And slamming into the ground

Reminding me that it could all

just

stop.

There's hope in that.

It may end.

Maybe even soon.

She came to know her eyes

As her most used possession,

Particularly her tears as of late.

And with those tears came the

Stinging red

Veins in her eyes,

Which grew like the

Anger

Inside her,

Like a roaring

Wildfire

Engulfing a once peaceful wood;

Both started out insignificantly

And grew to be

Disastrous.

She needed a story.

A third person one; to reveal her inner struggles. She had to describe it as though the pain was not hers, but someone else's. Someone inanimate to her; a creation of similarities so she could relate to someone-

So that she was not alone.

How she hated the solitude at that; just the word itself was rigid enough that she could feel it in her bones. All the thoughts that would prick her mind then, in her state of loneliness, truly haunted her. They transformed her happily distracted spirit into a blank canvas, and began with each prick to add specks of ink-

Black and endless in shade.

Then would come the drips of red, and strokes of color, all alike in darkness. She was hidden in this way, when she was in

The dark.

She was hidden in her own art, in her own stories. And she had to hide, for fear of the true self being uncovered. She had to keep secret that her identity

is mine.

Me?

The one of your dreams?

Silly girl

That can't be.

Out of the whole world

He knows just one part.

And only one that he's seen has

Wanted his heart

And loved him with hers.

So he took the chance,

What he could get.

Not the girl of his dreams

But me.

Silly girl

Don't be naive.

It's not fate.

It's not true

Love, it's not pure.

To him, love,

You're just

An open door. And

You loved him more.

What if you chose to be strong

And emphasized all that was wrong?

The emptiness within you,

And the walls crashing down

Inside your thick skull,

And the sickness derived

From the love you’re deprived of,

And the laughter that has ceased to burst

For a very long time...

What if you expressed your pain,

That solitude which consumes you,

And you told someone about that sharp, icy feeling

Of being alone?

And what if you found

That you weren’t?

What if someone reached out to embrace you,

And brought a smile to your cracked lips,

Or maybe true love to invade

Your heart?

What if you were healed,

And the walls were built back up in your mind,

And you felt fulfilled?

Yes, what if you crafted a verse,

That cured your everlasting, painful curse?

I promise you,

If you do,

You will once again be filled with might.

So what if you chose to write?

Versatile

Like our sorrow

And deep

Like our emotions.

As do all of us,

It retains its mystery.

It’s where we stay hidden.

The shadows-

Black.