My garden is only full of Black Nightshades,

It is what I am made of.

A flower that is considered a ****,

An invasive species.

Am I invasive in the way I talk,

Loud and commanding?

Am I invasive in the way I care,

About all species?

Tell me, 

Am I poisonous to the tongue?

Is the way I scream and sob about the world's odious ways invasive?

Would you like me to be voiceless?

Tell me,

Are the way my words hit your skin prickled with hatred and toxicity?

Is the way my tear hits the soil a sign that I’m delicate?

Tell me,

Do the ways that my stems reach for the sun seem invasive? 

That I crowd and push,

The way my garden stands tall.

On guard and at attention.

Tell me,

When the poison drips down your throat,

Is it as invasive as your thoughts?

As invasive as you thought I would be?

Is my garden not your idea of picture-perfect?

Cut clean and full of color,

Bright blues and pinks?

Is the way I present myself poisonous,

Is it invasive to your existence?

My garden is not here to be pretty,

It is here to be hurt but not hardened by the world.

The changing season and brutal weather will not sway my roots.

I’m here to grow, 

Even if it seems invasive.

I wanted you to hurt me,
So I could ache in the way that you do.
Hurting was a way I could breathe,
Settle down and be myself again.
A constant in my life,
A craving...
Not even drugs held the same satisfaction as pain.

I wonder if when I was created,
I was meant to suffer.
That the invisible thread sewed into my back to carry my wings were to ache,
To stretch and tug on my shoulder blades.
Feeling as if to pry from their sockets.
I think my halo was woven tightly to my head to remind me that I had an expectation to uphold,
A head to hold high.
Sometimes that halo feels like it will rip my scalp off.
My feet bruise easily,
They are always tender and sore.
Every step I take the coal burns through the pads of my heels,
Flames lick up my legs slowly.
Relishing in the pain is the only thing I know.
As for my lips,
When I kiss you I’m sorry my teeth crash against yours.
Slicing on your gums, making you bleed.
When my hands trace down your body,
They are biting.
Burning to the touch,
I apologize.
If only I were an angel as delicate as the others,
To be a savior but I am only the beginning of your ruin.

4 minutes ago-

i want to miss you
i want to miss you so ******* bad.
but the bond we had is broken,
and i cant feel anything other than regret.

2 minutes ago-

****, please dont leave me...
i cant be left again..
i need someone.

42 seconds ago-

i guess im wishing you goodbye,
like a cliche chick flick..
i wanted you to be the one,
but maybe in the next life?

6 seconds ago-
huh..
i guess i really did love you.

I once told a boy who fell in love with me at a young age,

To never drown himself in other people.

But lately, I’ve been doing a lot of that myself,

And it burns.

It hurts,

And that’s what I relish in.

Like *****, after four shots, numbing but still burning your throat enough to make you feel.

And maybe if I hurt him enough he will hurt me back,

Give me what I want.

For ******* once 

I just need him to hurt me back.

Make me feel something even if it’s only temporary,

Sometimes I don't know if I want him to hurt me physically or emotionally.

Both have been done before,

Both equally addictive.

Would we work better with his hand around my throat,

Or his words stabbing themselves into my heart.

Even after all this, he’s still in love with me,

Something I can’t. 

No, refuse to reciprocate. 

All while I'm drowning myself and he's trying to save me.

Lyrics slipped off her tongue like honey,

Soothing me.

The song, a constant battle of the girl she was before and who she is now.

A letter is written into lyrics of Messages from her,

Lost beneath the tidal wave of life.

Losing a piece of herself while trying to let the world see her.

Reminds me of myself,

Trying to constantly breathe life into the dead girl from before,

While suffocating the one I am now.

I feel the need to share a broken part of myself with someone,

Like she did.

The fear that it will shatter in a doubters hand makes me cower,

I long for a message from her.

One last sentence, 

A word.

To tell me she’s gone,

That the grasp I had on her hand for so long

Has vanished.

That there is no part of her that lives in the girl I am now.

To comfort me in the loss of myself that I felt 

While losing her.

You swallow me whole like I am nothing but a bite-sized entree,

Make me feel inconsequential.

The digestion of my words are slow,

Tumbling down your throat.

Grasping at your vocal cords,

Trying to gauge a reaction.

Your stomach acid slowly dissolves my feelings,

The raw ache is evident in the way my bones hurt.

I want to latch onto your heart with two hands,

Make my grip lethal,

And separate the one thing still intact.

How lovely it must be to have one,

The color of my deep red lips.

A heart beating to a glow of tormenting the victims of your disturbance.

When you finally spit me out,

I will be sure to take your vocal cords with me.

Make you feel as in inconsequential as you did to me,

I will choke the voice from you.

Wrap it in my hands and crush it,

Pick you apart like you are nothing more than an old teenage love.

I will leave you with a hurricane of feelings,

A mess of a person bundled up in a blanket full of a girl you broke

For your own entertainment.

I'll take your right like you did mine and stomp down with heavy burdens,

Bury it 6 feet under and walk away.

Just like you did.

Your lips ignite my skin,

Your tongue a flame scorching fine porcelain.

Fingertips trace the curves and lines of my body,

Like writing a book.

Each word delicately placed, 

Piecing together a masterpiece.

Hands gentle as a butterfly but the sting of your bite

Burns like the taste of tequila.

Your poison I could swallow down,

Let it drip down my throat like honey and warm my aching heart.

Lips swirl above my pulse,

It reminds me I'm alive.

Reminding me that I am real,

But you are not.

Reminding me the traces of your touch still linger,

Feeling as real as the windy breeze but it hurts as bad as a bee sting.

This reminds me that you are a ghost,

Wallowing in my story.

Hands popping and crackling with rage to get your hands on my throat,

To choke the life out of me/the voice.

It would remind me of what living on the edge felt like,

Leaving the possibility of your death in someone else’s hand.

Your touch reminds me of the many nights I spent wrapped up in a sea of sheets,

Trying to stain the smell of lavender detergent into my skin.

Imprint the scent to mask yours that you left,

Playing classical music until it repeated like a mantra in my head to get the whispers of your words out.

Scrubbing my skin raw, removing the feel of your touch.

Freeing, this reminds me of freeing myself from the bindings you attached.

Ones that scraped my skin,

Detached it from the bone.

Like my mind from my body,

Slow aching torture.

One that hurt but makes me love the hurt even more.