I remember you, so clearly,
Esteemed friend of mine,
you told me you’d never be
too far behind,
you told me to be myself,
I’d no longer have to lie.
For who’s a true friend
if one has to hide?
So I painted my nails
black,
And wrote poems about
death,
and you told me “no”,
you didn’t want me like that.
Jun 3, 2019
Jun 3, 2019 at 12:42 AM UTC
I wish when I wake up with a start
that this sadness will bleed
from the cracks in my heart,
that I won’t be a spectator
to my own ******* art,
that I won’t be a star
waiting for one little spark.
I wish when I awake from a self-induced sleep
that I’ll heal from the terrors
I made in the dark,
that I’ll steal from the pages
of my innermost thought
That I won’t live in the rubble
of a cold-blooded
heart.
May 23, 2019
May 23, 2019 at 7:51 PM UTC
My voice doesn’t reach you.
I hope one day when I collapse,
and spread out a million pieces
of life-burnt-ash,
that then, maybe then,
you’ll stop and
Reflect,
that I finally reached you,
that I finally reached you
After our time came to pass.
May 23, 2019
May 23, 2019 at 7:40 PM UTC
Stop trying to incinerate my heart.
Ashes can’t burn when they’ve already
become
Dust.
Ashes can’t evade when they’ve already
become
Rust.
Stop trying to incinerate my heart.
May 23, 2019
May 23, 2019 at 12:04 AM UTC
We are not afraid of the mirror,
We are afraid of the monster it shows.
We are afraid of porcelain skin
stained red,
afraid of never finding the bone,
afraid of never finding the very
core essence of our control.
I am afraid of being too much,
of not being enough,
of this skinny love
for a non-skinny reflection,
afraid of failing
if I am never able to see
my porcelain bones
imprinted on porcelain skin,
my very core
protruding from within.
I am my own control.
and one day,
I shall see it in the mirror,
even if I have to fall into it
and become the monster within.
May 13, 2019
May 13, 2019 at 11:55 AM UTC
I will always love you
in the way that the insomniac
dreams of sleep.
May 12, 2019
May 12, 2019 at 11:23 PM UTC
"We are all afraid,"
what a cliche.
I'm not scared,
The world molds me
I'm its clay.
May 12, 2019
May 12, 2019 at 11:21 PM UTC
To feel or exist
is to know without a doubt
that you're in the depths.
May 2, 2019
May 2, 2019 at 5:57 PM UTC
There’s a billion stars in the sky
And only one moon.
It’s a gift to be alone,
But a price for solitude.
Prized is a blade of grass in a Dust Bowl,
I found it a fitting fame,
For raindrops love to kiss me
And leave me wondering my name.
I sowed your seed of adoration
To remove traces of ash,
I bit into you as a starving leech
When you tried to snap my neck.
You promised to always be there
Should chlorophyll reflect blue,
But what I’ve come to uncover
Is in the dust, not much remains true.
Reliance I’d learned to master,
You as my water source.
In our barren desert
Water is found, not searched for.
When rain left me parched,
And stars retreated to clouds,
I turned to you for a saving hand
And into the dust I fell.
I searched for your promised saving,
But found you turned to dust
And now all the dust had turned to rust
And clotted inside my lungs.
Black particles choke me,
I see you leave,
You run, embracing the Sun’s neck,
And I’m alone with lifeless dust,
My broken arms longing
For warmth to melt their cuffs.
There’s a billion stars,
And only one moon,
But that’s not the entity
I long to speak to.
May 2, 2019
May 2, 2019 at 5:55 PM UTC
The people in my class analyzed poetry
With finely sharpened pencils
And color coordinated pens.
I don’t understand.
I thought poetry spewed from within,
Without care,
Out of necessity,
Out of the need to rip the bullet from
One’s heart,
Out of the need to
Save oneself.
May 2, 2019
May 2, 2019 at 5:53 PM UTC