Tragedy should not make heroes out of villains.

Reality is but a prison to a man who knows no bounds

She is the one your gaze
is kept for
:
I am the one your hands
are left for

And when the ocean one day reclaims every land we have ever known, we'll find home in eachother. For forever and the forever after.

Is it not enough-
To serve you the sky,
Moon in my hand
Stars a feast spread on our table
Sun circling around our heads
Jupiter in a small, tiny velvet box on the table
Her rings sitting, stagnant
Waiting
For you to come down from Space.

"Did you steal the last cookie from the jar? Be honest with me."
I questioned him
He shook his head and said "I didn't, I promise" with the crumbs still lining his teeth.

Silence is the loudest in the presence of a lover's lips.

My body is a commodity
I'll pay you four whispers in your ear
All the things you'd die to hear
Three eyelashes on my cheek
Its my body I claim to seek
Whats mine lies on the tiles
Wanted only every once in a while.

She's on your tongue. She's on your mind. If you were mine, She would die.

A promise is nice until its the 6th time you're hearing it.

The little girl inside of me screams to be important and acknowledged.
Her voice shrill while everyone around stand with plugged ears.
I wanna be heard.
I wanna scream.
I wanna be heard.

Call them back.
Delete the message.
Videochat her.
Block that number.

You know the one.

Im running out of ways to say "I love you." I guess "Forever." will do.

I pour every last drop into you,
I have nothing to myself
     But an empty glass.
And if you asked,
     That'd be yours too.

How long has it been since the pillows touched my head and I haven't been greeted by everything I've bled.

Aphrodite is not a weak goddess. You've never felt a heartbreak without Aphrodite longing the same, mourning  with every lost love and every last widower. She is a ghost, wiping away your tears with her sleeves, tilting your chin up before kissing your forehead, whispering that you'll love again, even if it's yourself. And isnt that strength?

While I cry to myself in the mirror, she'll be admiring every creak in my bones.

My ***** is stuck in my throat
Hair stuck in its bun
Is it always going to feel like this?
Late nights ending in ****** throats and ripped out hair, begging, pleading with the world to stand still.

Lying is the gift that keeps on giving.

For now I am you, and You are I, we will both collide into the sky.

One measly lie will taint the taste of truth in my mouth for lifetimes to come.

I open up and let the light creak out, for your eyes are not blind and your heart is still beating. So why does your breath stay still? Are you not in awe of a mythical woman willing to invite you in? Oh, What a shame, what a shame.

This is for Goddesses: You're not meant to know how to feed the freezing out of the palm of your hands, how to help the dying feel alive. You dont know how to love a broken thing back together.

I dont need to be seen, just heard. By anyone.

If the rain doesn't hit my feet, how do I know it's real? If the fire isn't heating my skin, how do I know if it hurts? If the bombs aren't blowing smoke, how do I know that I'm suffocating. Why do I learn when it's too late, when I'm already caught in the crossfire.

Why does "I love you" fit like a puzzle in my mouth? I think I'm missing the last piece of you. I'll ready the rest for when it's found.

The only guaranteed thing you'll ever have in life is choices.

And for your love I'd skip through oceans and sing the sea foam lullabies. For they themselves know your love, unforgiving and harsh in its beauty. One of a love that I'd beg for mercy, I wouldnt do it any other way. Your waves engulfing me in love and taking away my breath.

It waits until you leave the room to resume. It doesnt count the minutes on the stopwatch until you'll be back, but it counts the rhythm of your steps as you leave. What if my heart doesnt know how to let go around you. What if it can't be forgiving. Having heart just means your living, what if I can't live with what you are. What if what you are is who I need to be. But what if I cant breathe.

And for my fears that aren't for arts sake, are truly mine, and I'm once alone again in my mind.

If I'm to feel the shake of your winds gather the leaves from the trees will the rain fall down brushing my skin gently. Will the cleanse chill my skin, cause me to shiver or recoil? Will it touch my heart and cause a typhoon like the tears over missing you, its been years since I last knew what to do.

Night has fallen around my feet like wilting petals off of dead roses. Surrounded by the void. Captivated my eyes- staring into the nothingness, as the nothingness stares into me. I think it recognizes me. It might dare to even call me friend.

And that which coats my lungs, holds tight my throat. Begging me to go limp and surrender. But tomorrow will be sun. Tomorrow will be day. And I will no longer have to battle this fear alone.

Friendship is a playground. Monkey bars and Slides. Swings and See-Saws. Slung arms around necks and giggles echoing throughout plastic tunnels. Climbing up, up, up- only to hurt yourself falling down. Sometimes there will be the same slung arm around your neck to carry you to help. Sometimes you lay on the ground for minutes that feel like hours and wonder if no one saw you fall, or maybe everyone else just decided to go home instead. Sometimes you look at an empty playground and see an abandoned circus with joy that use to be there only to be lost, nothing but a memory to the metal toys that once held everyone I have loved. Every piece still in its place but frozen in its child-like wonder.

Once the seed of doubt is planted, it takes over the garden, infecting healthy roots and making them docile and weak, unable to stand when the wind gets tough.

You're always the bad guy in my dreams, what if my subconscious knows you better than me

Starlight boy, made of constellations, you are my guiding light. You carry the sky, or are you the sky. The waves of purple to navy to black, a collection of your shades. Every one as beautiful as the last. Your night sky never gets tiring to look at. Shifting, moving, covered, but forever there. Within and without, miles from where we are but so close I feel like I could reach out and touch you. So present and so distant, you my starlight boy are a collision of feigned hearts and scrabbled messages. You’re so hard to read, but it’s all never made so much sense until I saw you. So sing me sleepy and say goodbye before sunrise interrupts your melody. But I’ll see you again my love, every night I have left on this Earth, I’ll look towards you.

And the boys see your tears as nectar. Flocking, not seeing the cyanide flowing from your eyes, wanting to be the savior. They’ll never be the anecdote, but, after all, a savior isn’t needed, just wanted.

I do not know how to not spiral. I don't know how to catch myself when I fall. I don't know how to put up my hands and make the darkness turn to light. I don't know how to sleep when tonight won't strike 12. I can wait, but then I sit. Waiting for the moon to tell me that it will be the last thing I see and it will be beautiful. But what if I cant bring myself to believe it? What if 12 never comes? What if it never leaves? What if Im stuck there? What if theres just always another 12 to wait for in the inevitable tomorrow? What if I dont make it there?

And for the butterflies dont migrate through and straight. We all must be ready to move to the will of the winds.

Shameful to feed your kids breastmilk in public, but yet we will feed them bullets in their public schools.

Ive been dealt this switchblade been shown where to put it up to my neck to draw the most blood. You taught me how to make it all painful. And as hard as I try to, I cant forget how.

If loose lips sink ships then your mouth must be a graveyard.

I dont know if I believe in a God. I just need something to believe in. Because you left and took with you everything I thought I knew.

Art isnt suppose to be perfect. Art is the broken concrete on the sidewalk. The one you trip on and and become bloodied and bruised. Its the decaying flower you have to pull up from the roots before it infects the growth around it. Its the crack of your voice when defending everything you believe. Its preventing the perfection in everything else you cherish from becoming damaged.

As you leave, please remember who eased the pain for you to let go.

And as I bathed in milk, it became curdled. My heart eventually turning everything sour. It is a magic trick only I know.