In the morning,
alone,
I plant a pill
on my tongue,
and it blooms
like a chemical kiss

In the afternoon,
I wash my face and
wounds with blood

At midnight,
the rain pours
on my pillow,
but I don’t weep

Every night,
I sleep in the burning house,
but cannot feel its warmth

I keep having dreams
of when we were kids,
but we were never kids.

He's my favorite poet
but he doesn't write his words
with pen or paper
instead he breathes them into my neck
while painting me
with the smooth touch of his lips
His hands glide over my body
effortlessly and smooth
while he sculpts out my figure
better than Michelangelo
ever could
He is my favorite artist
and I am his favorite piece
but I am afraid
that all art must be finished
one day
B.S.

My skin remained untarnished for 81 days.
But last night, it became too much.
5 cuts on my wrist;

One for every year I let you abuse me

It won't hurt like this forever.