"I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead;
I lift my lids and all is born again.
(I think I made you up inside my head.)

The stars go waltzing out in blue and red,
And arbitrary blackness gallops in:
I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead.

I dreamed that you bewitched me into bed
And sung me moon-struck, kissed me quite insane.
(I think I made you up inside my head.)

God topples from the sky, hell's fires fade:
Exit seraphim and Satan's men:
I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead.

I fancied you'd return the way you said,
But I grow old and I forget your name.
(I think I made you up inside my head.)

I should have loved a thunderbird instead;
At least when spring comes they roar back again.
I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead.
(I think I made you up inside my head.)"

Tears like softest rain
Weep upon the night, soothing
Solace to her heart

The night
scattered its stars
across an asphalt sky.
We, you and I, stood
at the edge
of the precipice
watching.
Behind us,
stood the powers that be
counting down from ten.

I cradle hurricanes in my ribcage
while words swirl around my head.
I try to catch the good ones-
but mostly, I wish I was dead.

I do everything too much-
the joy, the sorrow, the dread.
Yet somehow, I’m never enough-
what a curious truth to be force fed.

If I laugh, it’s always too loud;
my mouth too sharp to make anyone proud.
Crying is a dangerous game,
I could sob away a city, drown in the blame.

My rage leaves no survivors,
as if I line people up on personal pyres.
When I vent, they hear preaching-
a sermon no one wants, a fear of my leeching.

I don’t love, I dissect-
obsessively search for the trap I expect.
I can’t just leave; I burn it all down-
the bubbly, funny girl wears a permanent frown.

I do too much and my inner child feels seen,
She's acting out, we aren't this mean
I just get scared when the vibe is off, and ruining the mood makes the blow more soft.

Despite the chaos I still crave love, an equal partner, wearing fireproof gloves.

i don’t just crave validation,
i need it.
i need it like some people need a drink in their hands,
i need it like it’s the cigarette between my lips.

it’s the air in my lungs,
my food and my drink.
it’s not just music to my ears—
it’s the only sound i hear.

i know i’m not your favorite,
not really.
but you told me i was,
three months ago.
and i wrote that in my journal.
i etched that in my heart.

i hold up my poems,
these nonsense words i call art,
and i need a compliment,
i need a hug.
so that i know i’m not just some girl,
the girl you whisper about when she’s not there.
so that i know
there’s a reason i give and give.

so that i know i’m someone’s favorite.