The fog was a cheek to cheek slow dance--

in step with the promise that no one

knows anyone.

It derived intimacy through lifting from

what it was never in place to reveal--

but like plight.

Having been as close as it'll ever be, there

is nothing that doesn't hold back as it

strives for the opposite.

Who's lingering on what it drew in?

So close that it's gone.

red or white of any color, the moon is still the moon
Regardless of its phase, crescent, half, full or new— it was beyond perfect, still
But beyond perfection, its beauty is breathtaking.

i know i am an abomination
i know you wish i were never born
i know that my existence defines your ruin
well guess what?
me.
f**king.
too.
i do not wish to be here.
i never asked for this.
and yet,
i love you endlessly.
and i always will
for i do not know anything else.

i do not know a world where i have not loved you and you have not hurt me

i was all but 7,
the first time i hated the number i saw on the scale.
u fed that to me.
and 7 year old me,
all she wanted was to become the version of herself that was worthy of your love.
i know that i am not worthy of your love.
i know.
and i'm sorry..

Did I step on a butterfly once in my youth
That I must live in such pain today

Did I not reach out to someone in need
That my days are now crowded with hurting.

Did I never walk for that extra mile
That each step today is a torment.

Did I not study the course close enough
That agony is what I have to learn.

Have I earned a lifetime of level-nine days
When to be only aching becomes a reward.
                 ljm

When I tried to swim I sank
When I stayed out of the water I couldn't walk
When I fell to my knees I couldn't crawl
I lay on the floor and it finds me
I hear the world still moving around me
I can't move
I lay still unmoving for when I get up I fall
When I swim I sink
but even when I do nothing it still finds me

A scream of sorrow
At a youthful demise
Future less lingering in these eyes
Mirrors of ancient melancholy, memories, mistakes
Longing for a place only seen travelling in a spirit’s skin
Darkness reflecting within depths unexplored
Awaiting whispers of truths only found
After these eyes are buried in the ground

My mom prays for me a lot.
Which is good.
If God has favorites, I know he’d listen to her more than me.
She deserves a direct line.

Time can tell this simple tale
Any minute every day
Many faces going pale
Telling us what words can't say

Once a need
Now's a fear
A lullaby's what you hear

An angelic voice from the distance
Is it ending or is it still distant...