I hope you know.

I hope you know,

you’re not the worst thing you’ve ever done.

I hope you know,

the light still shines on you, the sun will come.

I hope you know,

you’ll get to the other side, you will overcome.

I hope you know,

yourself you cannot outrun.

I know you know,

you’re not the worst thing you’ve ever done.

–S.

Choose me, Charlie.

It’ll all be easy,

if you choose me, Charlie.

I guarantee,

you’ll see, Charlie.

I’ll fulfill your needs,

do nothing, but agree,

if you pick me, Charlie.

What do you mean,

you’re feeling inbetween,

couldn’t it just be me, Charlie?

–S.

Not Enough.

Was I too much or not enough?

Scared of vulnerability, did I act too tough?

Emotional, did I deliver it all too rough?

Walking ultimatum, did I call my own bluff?

Love like quicksand, did I make you feel stuck?

Loads of insecurities, did they make you not give a fuck?

Was I just not built of all the right stuff?

Well, was I too much or not enough?

–S.

Salt.

It’s the salt,

in the air,

your memory,

everywhere.

It’s on my tongue,

in my hair,

your memory,

everywhere.

It’s in my cells,

a part of every smell,

your memory,

everywhere.

It runs in my blood,

coats my lungs,

your memory,

everywhere.

–S.

Halloween Heart.

Are you Frankenstein, a zombie, or a ghoul?

I’m a lovesick fool.

Are you a chainsaw wielding killer or a vampire?

I’m romantic satire.

Are you a character from a cartoon or a movie?

I’m feeling more Beast, less Beauty.

Are you supposed to be alive or dead?

I’m filled with dread.

Are you covered in blood or guts?

I feel like I’m covered in cuts.

–S.

Too Deep.

I was always too deep for a love so shallow.

I was always too deep for a person so hollow.

I was always too deep for you to swallow.

I’ll still be too deep for you tomorrow,

and you’ll always be the boy filled with nothing but sorrow.

–S.

In a field of sunflowers.

In a field of sunflowers,

I let you go.

In a field of sunflowers,

I let the hurt flow.

In a field of sunflowers,

I grieve and I grow.

In a field of sunflowers,

I begin to glow.

In a field of sunflowers,

I let you go.

–S.

Tradition.

One wrong move and it’s all tumbling down.

52 cards, face down, on the ground.

Your love has always been conditional.

I guess, that’s what we kept traditional.

It’s never been the most sturdy.

You’re always assessing me in a hurry.

I can never be anything new –

because what you thought of me,

was the only thing that could ever be true.

–S.