Let me breathe
Some sort of ruthless fire
Into your soul
And light up the remains
Of your heart
So you can be brought back
To life
And maybe Find
Some sort of love
For yourself.
Apr 11, 2015
Apr 11, 2015 at 1:55 AM UTC
You crave the love
You're afraid to find
And so you drown yourself
In bars and lies.
You thrive in the sadness
You pretend you don't feel
And look for happiness
In emptiness.
I think of you often
Cry for you even-
Praying someday
The scars of your past
Will fade away.
I pray someday
You'll find
The love your soul so craves.
Mar 22, 2015
Mar 22, 2015 at 10:26 PM UTC
I love you because
You respond to my touch
Even as you dream
And it makes me think:
Maybe that dream is of me.
Mar 15, 2015
Mar 15, 2015 at 2:28 AM UTC
sometimes we were
in love.
but those feelings
caught fire
and in the end
caught flight.
the ebbing memories
of how we used
to be
weren't enough
to hold us together.
in the end,
it was me who left
after two years
of begging you
to stay.
and in the end
it was me who said no
when you
came back.
in the end,
your shallow words
weren't enough to save us.
in the end,
it was you who drove me
away.
near the end
i found someone else,
and you didn't care
when i went to his house
alone.
you should have cared
because that was when
i saw i no longer loved you
i no longer wanted you.
that was when i saw
i only wanted him.
now i have him
and you're gone,
and in the end
we were too different
and we fought
and you were mean
and the love we sometimes held
wasn't enough
to save us.
Jan 27, 2015
Jan 27, 2015 at 11:59 AM UTC
You were never
A Miscarriage
Because that implies
You were never really
Someone.
Dec 22, 2014
Dec 22, 2014 at 10:02 PM UTC
I mourn for the
Air
You were never meant
To have.
Dec 22, 2014
Dec 22, 2014 at 9:51 PM UTC
You can be anything-
Without the burden of pain.
You are everything, in being
nothing.
You were something.
You still are-
My sister.
I can forget the pain
And I can say your name
Aug 27, 2014
Aug 27, 2014 at 1:22 AM UTC
I make art;
Portraits piled
On portraits-
My body covered in paint.
My work hangs on the Walls
And often rests
In the trash.
There is something beautiful
In a picture-
But like beauty
It meets no means,
And will leave me
Trembling
In its
Dust.
Aug 16, 2014
Aug 16, 2014 at 11:44 PM UTC
I'd feel the floor
Move beneath me
And send the Earth
Into the Sun-
Where it would shatter
And burn.
I would Burn the world
Aug 12, 2014
Aug 12, 2014 at 12:31 AM UTC