Vent Art

They say that your friends’ love means nothing in comparison and advocate for people who are miserable together to marry. Is that love?

Is love the feeling of home I have beside you? The fear I feel when you’re away? Am I in love when I can’t look you in the eyes and say I’m scared? That I can’t remember what I need to say to be healthy, to not scare you? Am I only in love with the good I see? What do I do?

I am in love and I know it. I just don’t know how to stay in love and how to show it all to you. If I could pour my heart out to show you what I feel you’d never question whether or not I care.

Effort and crying and ruin and everything good falls away. Am I worth anything at all? Or am I another person to throw out? I don’t know and I doubt I’ll ever know. I just hope that you think I’m worth the worry. I’m only worth as much as you say anyhow.

I’ll bend to your will, you’ll drink from a flask

You tell me you hate me, then why am I here?

Tell me your thoughts, your feelings, your fears

I’ll eat a breakfast, a piece of french toast

Why did I let myself be friendless and alone while giving her all I had?