you said you loved me
but this isn't what love
is, love is not a throwaway
gag for you to come and go
as you please, love is not
the pain you caused me, making
me feeling like I'm going crazy;
making me choose.

I don't know if I truly loved you,
but what you gave back was anything
but
love.

there's a balance to be

struck, the tightrope

between creativity and

burnout; a match lit from

both ends and I'm burning

alive.


I don't know when to stop.

sway back and forth
a beautiful array of
emotion dances
side
by side
I feel a menagerie
and my lips feel dry

Not a word spoken,
yet so much was said.

Writing like slapping brushstrokes
on the page, typing with such speed
that the keys click loudly; music
to my ears. I will write like my
life depends on it, because sometimes
it does. Through lows and high, I
will make art, and maybe, just maybe,
one day someone will read them
and understand.

screaming in a

soundproof room

the feeling of

tiny cuts opening

my scars displayed;

bright red. It's like

I'm unraveling, and

I don't want to stop.



"It feels like relief."

coffee, cigarettes,
and a cloudy day
attitude. You found
me there, not looking
for affection, and yet
I needed you like air
in my lungs.

can't stop thinking
you, always a damsel
but what happens dear
when no one comes to
save you?
...
Do you have it in you,
that fire, that spark
to be your own hero?

it bugs me, the way
you walk like you own
the place, standing tall
prideful as a lion, yet
selfish as a thief.

You are all you think about.

I've turned toward the sun

and I've begun to heal, cracks

once oozing now sealing, but

no matter how much I reach up

and how much I grow, the scars

are always with me, and I

will never forget.

scream up and down
to give me more space
but when the
night comes
cold sets in
...
I just want you to hold me.