Her hair blossomed
Orange lilacs
Underneath her
Firey stare

She performed magic
In another's eyes
And made them
Disappear

She held tight to
The rhythm that night
Then too let it
Slip away

Why the grasp she was
So hungerly needing
Why the long face

My bravest
Youre in love
With a ghost
You must erase

If the birds
And the butterflies
Can make trees
Then where would
The bees be

-on cracking and crushing

It's hard
to conduct oneself
when candy's on the shelf

It's there for the taking
my decency is breaking
I feel I slip away

Where's that hopeless helping hand
of my helpless hapless father
Now I need it, not in my shirt
and for once not under my skirt

Who on earth can help me stand
against this hapless hopeless bar
It ***** me empty
me - imploding star

please know that I love you more than the stars, the sun, and the skies could hold.

but I don't know how to fix something without damaging it the process.

you are fragile, and my hands have unintentionally fractured you countless times. I know this, even though you've never explicitly told me.

I dance on eggshells around you: I am atlas, pirouetting across an empire of thin ice, just so I don't mar you with my words.

swallowing conversations and feelings is a talent we both possess. to spare the pain of the other, we dampen the truth. we drink the fires of resentment and leave them to ferment.

I cannot fix this without potentially damaging it further.

I'm a storm with skin. my collateral damage knows no bounds, spares no mercy. you know this. but hear me, and heed me closely.

I don't paint you as the villain. you aren't the martyr. we are equally responsible for this damage and decay. the rot of something once beautiful.

yet I cannot fix something without causing further damage.

we are a two way street. growth of beauty cannot flourish in stagnation.

please, do not test the limits of my volatility. I cannot mend the tatters of thirteen years with a single spool of thread.

I refuse to swallow fermented resentment. I walk on eggshells carrying mountains for you no more.

this tapestry will end in one of two ways: opulent splendor, or devoured by living flames.

I cannot fix something without destroying it in the process.