You offer
Tiny sprinkles of yourself
the bits you think I will like
and I do
I just wonder about the dusty
dark damp bits
that I could love
even more

Hiding in a fortress today

Your emotional blows,
like cannons,
shatter me to bits

The mark of a true artist
is simply,
if they are not creating,
they are falling apart

i spend my days
pouring myself into the cups of others

only to find that
when it’s time for myself
to take a sip

all that’s left
in my cup
is the remainder of a girl
who gave too much

I've been staring at the word
"online"
under your contact name
for the past hour
its staring back at me
I'm desperately waiting for a reply
(nothing)
i let jealousy take me over
because I know you're texting her
instead of me.