I’m cold and heartless, hollow to the bone.
I’ll use you up and leave you all alone.
No guilt will bloom, no second glance or pause.
I am the storm that never checks its cause.

My life was
an open book.
You just forgot
to read a few chapters.

He’d never come back,
I’d said with a frown.
He said he was sorry,
He didn’t think twice.
He said he was sorry,
But I’ll never forgive him,
For what he has done.
‘Cause on the outside,
He’s a really sweet guy.
But it’s what's on the inside,
That counts.

I never thought of myself as a writer
Because I never found the words to describe myself

I thought of myself as an artist
Because I could bleed my pain so beautifully

So I painted my silence
And called it a poem

If I can't unlove you
                Surely I can write myself
                                                  Out of love

everyone is already asleep
the pills seem to stare right into your soul
you grab the blade,
the cold edge hitting your skin
almost tenderly.
as the thick, dark liquid stains the sheets,
you open the bottle with your shaky hands.
and take them out
one by one.
it tells you to hurry up.
you quickly consume every single one,
before you could regret it.
you write a few notes, texts, explaining why you'll be gone,
possibly forever.
they don't have to know that though.
you can already feel the headache coming,
the regret slowly creeping in,
you pass out.
you wake up a few hours later,
confused,
the realization finally hits you.
you don't want to listen,
but the pill whispers:
"again."

I’d like your taste to linger
A little longer on my lips—
Citrusy-bright,  caramel-rich acacia honey;
You fizz, umami.
  A hint of cashews— yes, I’m nuts for your being!
So sweet, sugary, cavity-worthy—Guilt-free.
A flavour I should let just fade out..
For the inevitable,
minty and cold reality
scheduled to rinse it