my sun is a cutout of yellow paper, stars too small in their wrinkled sky. im existing in a universe crumpled and
left to dry– no wonder i’ve got crooked seams. cheap thread and cheaper whiskey will sew up sutures just as well, though, and
the scars last twice as long.
Jun 20, 2018
Jun 20, 2018 at 11:13 PM UTC
oh
i’m so tired of your lovely eyes
and your heartbreak and the holes inside of you
of course love hurts, of course love hurts
did you think cracking yourself like a coconut
upon the sandy shore
wouldn’t hurt?
how else can you drink the sweet nectar inside?
love is pain, and to love is
to be pained
the most glorious way
Jun 14, 2018
Jun 14, 2018 at 10:14 AM UTC
it’s a vagabond heart
roaming, sticky-tongued through
valleys of boys and girls:
all can be bled for, just take up the sword yourself.
i’m a
traveling postage stamp scar collection
turned love story
Jun 13, 2018
Jun 13, 2018 at 10:11 AM UTC