the knife i held in my hand
the blood that poured from my chest
both crimson red, just like the blood that drips from my worn down finger tips when i clutched the thorns on the roses you gave to me, valentine’s curse
an open wound, cut in the shape of a heart
the doorway to my now empty rib cages that once housed the heart that beat solely for me

hand dyed crimson
is that my blood? or is that now your blood too?
vertigo symptoms
i can feel the heart beating in my palm
i place it on the gilded platter
i hand the platter to you
here is my heart
it beats only for you
it will love you for as long as you let it
please cherish it, treat it kindly
it is yours now, do with it what you wish

you took the knife from my hand and stabbed it
the room became silent, the beating had died out
with the disappearance of the beat, i disappeared with it.

Once upon a time
I much loved “cerulean” -
Now I just write “blue”

Green fatigues too ****** out to even care,
They turn the other way as the people of state are put to knife,
Lazy infantry men without conscience,
Only available to do the bidding of that crazy old geriatric in the rock.

why can't people accept
girls kissing girls,
and boys kissing boys?

me?

i kiss boys and girls.
that's who i am,
and it's who i have
always been.

no matter my sexuality,
i am still me.
i'm the me i was when i was
six, and i am still me at
fifteen.

What if I were to sleep?
What if I were to fly?
What if I were to leap
From the red bridge nearby?

What if I were to sleep?
What if I were to fly?
What if I were to sing
Forever from the sky?

What if I were to sleep?
What if I were to fly?
What if I were to leap
From the red bridge nearby.