She hung on to the edge
afraid to fall
back into the same routine
of plucking petals
and mending broken things.

Her wings, a mess
feathers meshed with hate and lies
from past lovers that scrutinized
the way she drew the skies
with her silhouette
ensuring she would never find
the will to rise or ever fly.

Her wings.

Argema mittrei


Parading in your shade of grey
with fragile wings
torned to bits by the harrowing winds
of angry voices reminding you
that you are not a butterfly.

Tormenting taunts
feeds the loathing that grows inside
An assassination of a ******'s pride
reminding you that you are not a butterfly
As though moths were never meant to fly.

As if your wings didn't carry you
Across the reflections of buried moons
And how you rebuilt your tattered wings
From scattered dreams that buried you.

You are a different breed of beautiful.

there are days where I sit and stare at myself in the mirror
picking apart every little flaw, every extra roll and
every bit that's not the right shape or colour
and I think, almost religiously,
that I am not good enough for you.

Becuase the truth is that I'm not.

You deserve sunshine and flowers on a summers day,
not a work in progress as dull as a winters night.

I say this to you and you pull your lips together with a sad smile,
look down at me
say
"But what if I prefer winter"

My boy that is not the point.
All I do is make you worry and I wanna be your sunshine but I just don't
think
i
can
be
that

yet

I'm a work in progress.
Incomplete
I was shattered just before we met and putting the pieces together
is
killing
me

And the things we don't talk about
things we shelve for a conversation in the
future.

involves things that only
"I love you"
might be able to fix.

through everything
recovery is hard
and each and every day is a choice
I need to make
to be better
and
I'm not always strong enough to make that choice.

I just want you to understand
my boy
my lovely amazing
perfect
boy

that sometimes I don't eat
and sometimes I want to die more than not
that anxiety is a being that rocks me
and sometimes I need the rush of pain
from scrubbing hard at my skin
or dragging a blade across it

it's not about you.
it's not something your presence is going to necessarily fix












But i want to try for you.
Maybe i can't be your sunshine
but maybe
i can be your cup of tea
your jumper
your girl
wrapped up in your bed sheets
on a cold winters night

you once said you had no problem
helping me pick up my messes
and if you stand by that

ill be your girl.
In whatever season you want me.

the moment a poet
falls in love with you

is the moment
you live

f o r e v e r

Tell me this!
How can you cage a bird
When you fell in love
Whilst watching it fly?

I thought I caught

the most prized fish;

breathtaking, rare, and all mine.

It was all a deception,

for what I actually got

was a slimy, ephemeral eel.