Not Here Yet

If I could let you go

let my memories of you be ripped from my chest

if I could stop the rain

and curl up with the pain

held deep inside it'd be,

just you,

and me.

I wish that I could believe it,

but I don't know you,

I hate you,

no,

I hate me,

I hate how I'm stuck at the bottom of a ravine,

and I can't get out,

the walls were made of blood.

Blood from my wrists,

blood from my veins,

blood from my heart,

which aches.

I feel a pain that I can't explain,

it hurts inside,

to be alive,

I hate this mess

but what can you do,

I guess,

I've tried to sleep,

to not even care,

but when I turn around

and see you over there

I know that I can't

though I'm seeing ghosts

I'm insane

I belong away from all I love

I hate my morbid mangled mind

I hate how I can't keep track of time

I hate how everything that's wrong is mine.

I hate how poems like this are so long

I hate my life

I want a refund.

but that in itself isn't fun

my life can't end

thats not very fair

I hate it even more that you're not here

I hate how I miss you

and miss me too.

I hate how I'm writing and writing for nothing

nothing but you..

but are you nothing?

No, I just don't know you yet

you're invisible,

or not quite here yet,

but I miss you anyway