I don't no y u luv me like u do
but I no that I luv u
how can u stand me?
we always fight
I guess it's good 2 make things right
but always right after 
we get into again
we get into it over and over again
not 2-day
ma-b not next week
but sooner or later we will
i will b ready after a painkiller pill
I have thought bout over dosing, shots, and blades
and surely so have u
but when we think about it
do we really want 2?
tears stream down my face
right
left
here
there
fists fly every where
on the wall 
on the bed
shattering thru glass
holes in the wall
dents in the jeep
the day we fight is the night I cry myself 2 sleep
I know u think o this cant b true
shes so lying
but when we fight my body feels as if it shrinks
and I feel like dying
I sit in the tub
and rub, rub, rub
at the marks on my fists
but mostly the 1s on my wrist
when we r done fighting it seems so stupid
but when we get into it
its like hell
hell that never ends
never ends till we end
I look at the marks on your wrist
I look at mine
and I say....
how do u luv me like u do?





this poem is about me and cierra