I watch you talk to three boys at once, a tree hosting a nest full of birds unbeknownst to the betrayal through the veins of its branches.
I hear you talk only of yourself, only knowing the surface of your ocean, rather than the ecosystem of things beneath it.
I see you dressing in things you don't find comfortable, visually or physically, but you paint yourself as prey for your predator in hopes that it will feed you the nutrients and attention you need to survive.
I pray for you. I pray that you flourish and grow and become beautiful, but not if you just pollute yourself for the sake of those living on you.

I can write about love and the loss of it.
I can tell you every time I've been heartbroken, and I can get halfway through a piece and quit.
I'd like to challenge myself, though.
You know how I've loved if you have loved. Everyone knows pain.
I'd much rather do something nobody's read rather than regurgitate the same.

The tens of thousands of headstones were covered in flowers. Trees that were about triple the height of them circled around them forming a Stonehenge and green forest of those passed. Daughters and sons sat behind the decorated stones and over the flat marks that were simply map points where they, their parents, would live for eternity. The fresher visitors even needed time to navigate, the ones used to it know where to go. Many come. It's justifiable to to think that one of them could meet a friend that day in the same situation. Maybe they've been there a few more years or maybe this is their first Mother's Day on the grass, but friends just the same.

Yes, I will forever want to change.
No, I don't fear this or that I'll never be satisfied, because I am aware of my addiction to new ambitions and I don't fear satisfying it.
Always learning new things, always meeting new people, but you can trust me.
Trust that although I will feed my hunger, I may not always enjoy the aftertaste of my actions.
The face that told you I love you said otherwise to another, but you can trust me.

Throw away your fears and keep this moment close, because everything unseen is all that you know.
I'm here with you now, what else matters? I'm yelling for you; I wish I could take my point of view and make it yours, and show you the beauty of seeing the beauty.
I'm giving you everything I got, and to do so, I'm not worried about when I can't.
So ******* love me with everything you have now, like I'm doing for you, and I won't stop.

I can't even say a somewhat mean joke without thinking about it over and over
I don't wanna be that type of lover

It's funny to poke fun, it's mad how it makes me mad. Relationships allow for that gray area of jokes, but it's so easy to revisit and use it as a weapon.

Remember when you said?  I was joking

It's not funny then, and the jester becomes the prisoner, and the muse becomes the victim.

I feel like I gave up on being skinny and I know it because nothing small will fit, so now I'm having one
I felt so faint on the car here I was sweating and shaking; I haven't done that since I was nervous about a speech and now I'm doing it over something so trivial.
So now I'm crying in this fancy restaurant bathroom and a lesser known Sinatra song is playing, and I know it's him because I love him, and I put all that love I don't have for myself right now into his voice.
I shake as I type this sitting on a seat not suitable for anything but something else.
Im lightly tapping under my eyes trying not to lose my bottom mascara.