sometimes when
i'm in too deep,
i lose feeling in
my hands and feet,
and i start to
breathe too quick,
and my cold palms
become slick,
my vision is now
a blur of light,
keep calm now
my mind is a fight,
i pull at my
hair and skin,
as if there was a present
under layers so thin,
do not touch
me for i will scream,
just leave me alone
to blow off some steam.

after three years,
i can still count fourteen-year-old
summer days,
in lines parallel to eachother,
never touching,
straight lines embedded into
my young but old
skin.

everytime i inhale,
my lungs collapse,
and my chest caves in from
all of the pressure,
gravity,
weight,
of sadness birthed,
from the womb of how much
my mind wants to **** me.

and you feel the same,
and together we can sit in your room,
and together we can curl up into eachother
and talk about how much,
we want to die,
under your blankets..

*together

week-old water marks,
stained sapphire rings,
and continues through countless cleaning attempts
to be seen.

oh please don't touch me,
for i'll melt into
a euphoric wonderland,
that i hate to love so much,
and my body shakes,
quivers,
my chest catches on each sharp inhale
as i lay on your bed &
ache for more of you.
oh please touch me**.

your lips curled up at the corners,
into what could be considered a "smile",
and you revealed your eroding teeth,
worn down and blackened to the roots,
i could smell the bile of words on your breath,
and i could hear the sound of truth and your morals,
being grounded up and swallowed back down.

early winter mornings,
wake me up and
chill me to my bones,
but remind me i'm
alive,
because the cold hurts,
stings and burns my skin,
and that's how i know,
i'm naturally warm.