everything tastes vanilla,
what's the point in having a favorite color?
she's got thoughts and legs longer than pi,
and a bite bluer than her latest depression
but she always finds you down there in that sad valley-
doesn't she?
singing on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and

little dark girl with
kind eyes
when it comes time to
use the knife
I won't flinch and
i won't blame
you,
as I drive along the shore alone
as the palms wave,
the ugly heavy palms,
as the living does not arrive
as the dead do not leave,
i won't blame you,
instead
i will remember the kisses
our lips raw with love
and how you gave me
everything you had
and how I
offered you what was left of
me,
and I will remember your small room
the feel of you
the light in the window
your records
your books
our morning coffee
our noons our nights
our bodies spilled together
sleeping
the tiny flowing currents
immediate and forever
your leg my leg
your arm my arm
your smile and the warmth
of you
who made me laugh
again.
little dark girl with kind eyes
you have no
knife. the knife is
mine and i won't use it
yet.

your fingers tips they run up and down my mind
i can't resist the way your words melt down my spine

I made a choice
It wasn't a sin
It hurt my nose
And it broke my pen
I lost some money
And a couple of friends
But I never forgot
To hit it again

And when the sun comes up I hope it's my face that greets you, my touch slipping back into your memory and like a bad dream you wake up and remember what you broke. A house full of mirrors you walked in like a psychopath with a baseball bat; swinging and swinging and swinging. I can't change what you've done here and i cut my hands on all the shards of your mess trying to make sense of it all. But I'll wrap up all the wounds and grow stronger. I'll watch flowers grow out of my shoes and find my back. Because I know if a drop of memory floats into my mind at night I pray you can't fall asleep because of the roaring thunderstorms of my laughter, the way I'd kiss you like we were the only ones on earth and now all you've got left is yourself and the ugly truth that wraps around your neck and slowly suffocates you as each lie comes to the surface and people whisper each one to someone else. Because I know if people look at me with the slightest glance of pity I pray their glare cuts you like you cut my trust in so many different ways.

I can't fathom how you get a wink of sleep at night if my mind tosses and turns like this.

My truest self is June, 2014. I've just returned from France and I'm excited to simply wake up each morning having no idea where the **** I'll go with the rest of my life. I have no job, no real priorities, just curiosity. I'm still a ******. I've never told someone I loved them. I've got too many black clothes in my closet and I'm convinced I'm the long lost southern spice girl. My hair is ombre and I haven't cut it in three years. I gave my friend Sydney my shoes because she needed a pair. I listened to Sylvan Esso's new album in a bathtub for five hours in a hotel room in Marseille- day dreaming about all the different people I could pretend I was that day. I hadn't lost anyone before. I was writing beautiful tangly words everyday. I was no one's but my own. everything was going in my favor. I was happy and far too curious for my own good.

But curiosity killed the cat, and here I am on my ninth life walking on egg shells trying to keep it all together.

you've ruined songs, you've ruined restaurants, you've ruined the striped shirt i used to wear on happy days. you're the stain on a white couch i can never remove and will always despise

oh my darling!
you make my head spin ever so wildly
drown me in wine
yell that you love me!
as i trace a master piece on your back with my fragile fingers

and they'll call us both mad
the lovers that danced until their feet crumbled
( though you claim you cannot dance )
as we will disregard them all, humanity, and however cliche our midnight rambles may become

I couldn't help it; it spread like wild fire, clenching my chest and burning my lungs with the overwhelming anxiety that you've blossomed into the most monstrous thing I've ever encountered

my baby exists when he wants to
leaving vitamin D outside my door
gives me kisses on my arteries
kisses my bruises even more

my baby gives flowers for breakfast
and claims they won’t ever bloom
he loves me, he loves me not
he speaks in glances across the room

my baby breaks my heart
my baby adores me so
my baby knows just the right spot
gotta let my baby go