I need the warmth of your skin
to fix the cold of my bones.

bright sun shines
on golden yellow branches
sharp shadows follow

golden yellow
turns to a crisp orange
smothers the earth

bare branches stand slim
less than magnificent
vulnerable,

alone

you never asked to read my poetry
maybe that was the sign.
i told you i wrote for fun,
you shrugged and moved on.

My candy heart bleeds with severity,
hemorrhaging despair and melancholy.

A new heartache for you to ignore,
what once was good will be no more.

My candy heart is achromatic,
devoid of color, systematic.

Black and grey is what I feel,
void of complexion nothing seems real.

My candy heart is numb and calloused,
paralyzed and unbalanced.

All that's left is anguish and pain,
the only emotions that remain.

My candy heart cannot be repaired
will not be saved can never be spared.

Demolished, some pieces lay absent,
shattered into a million fragments.

i find it funny
how often i speak of love
when i myself
don't quite know what it is
and don't quite know what the difference is
between romance
and romanticised.

To my abuser,

I know you will never
be attached to me
the way I am attached to you,

but dear,
that's because you are broken
and you're addicted to
projecting your pain,

and I'm here picking up
all of my pieces,
trying to heal.

In 2019,
I want more.

Want more sunrises
More rolling out of bed with a purpose

More afternoons curled in a love seat

I want a garden
inside me and in my backyard

More friends
More nuzzles from dogs

More oceans

More allowance to make mistakes
After all, you were brave enough to try.

More stillness
More belly laughs
More love letters

More sway in my hips
Cool breeze on my lips

More looking in the mirror to see my smile
not the width of my thighs

More finding shapes in the clouds

More moments that leave me breathless

More life
All the painfully messy beautifully chaotic morsels
dripping from my chin

In 2019,
I want more.