And no one saw her hurting
They saw glimmering reflections of themselves
Off the broken shards that she was made up of

You're not even at my door
and still
I've made a bed for you

Yesterday was your birthday

All day, my hands weighed me down

With the itch to text you to wish you a good day
With the need to grip a steering wheel, navigating me to your house
With the idleness feeling sinful as I wasn’t baking you confetti cake
With the feeling of being misplaced against anything that wasn’t your skin

To keep my hands busy I piled memory into a grinder
And
Ground
Ground
Ground

Turned the parts as if I was winding up a music box
Because this sound was full
In comparison to
The pit of my stomach that was still waiting to
Share your birthday cupcakes with you

When the flashbacks filtered into my brain
The high was pulled lower still
By the weight of my hands
So that all I could do was cross them
And pray a prayer worth all of the birthday gifts I’ve ever given

“Please, God, on this day make him forget himself.

Please, God, let him find a sweet tooth for things other than the melancholic poison he puts in his coffee

Please, God, let him not remember the time when he broke open too wide and let me slip out of him

Please, God, allow him to feel something, on this birthday, even if it’s just his birthday candle blisters

Please, God, give him his heart back, as it is buried in the past that I was never gifted to know

Please, God, let me not weigh him down with a guilt seed that would root him to a chapter in his life that he wishes he could rewrite

Please, God, let me stop dreaming of him.
I know what it means when I dream of someone.
I know it’s your way of wordlessly telling me I’m being thought of.
Do not let him think of me.


Please, God, fill the parts of him that his worker’s hands have carved out of himself so cleanly.

Visit the wounds that sit in his posture
Will his veins to carry his soul back to his heart

Remind him that his sadness is his own special brew
That he continues to sip at his leisure

Help him understand that feeling lonely
Comes from his own brain that remembers isolation better than love

Please, God, give him
A better year.
A good year.
A year when his time won’t be stolen by someone so insignificant
That he has to translate her words into the language of gibberish,
Until they mean nothing at all anymore.

Please, let him find someone.
Please, let that person captivate him.
Please, let that person know him.
Please, let that person sit in bed with him and feel their good fortune in their bones.
Please, let that person see the moon in his fingertips and realize that they can control the tides, if he wants them too.
Please, let him smile at this person, in ways that would be ugly in pictures, but beautiful in my memory.

Please, God, let that person be HIM.

Please, God, if you won’t cut the ribbon to the start of his new life, at least give him the scissors.

He will say “No, Thank you.”
He will say he does not need your help, because he knows the power of his paint brush,
and that he is too busy washing color out of his brushes to take hold of the harsh metal,
And then he will make confetti of your offer.
He will shred every pleasant thought that comes his way.
He will cut himself open and gaze at every beautiful thing, insisting he sees the wonder.
He will not see the wonder.
He will say he understands the things that live inside himself.
But he will turn their volume down
And tune deeply into the metallic music of sorrowful hollowness
He will go to extreme efforts to ignore the starting line that sits just outside of his comfort zone.

But, God, Please,
Send the trees to trip him
Make the animals chase him
Let him
Throw tantrums that are disguised as the silent treatment

But wrap him up in his ribbon, so that the only way he can move
Is forward.
Remind him that the scissors are always in his hand,
And he needs to learn that
They need not destroy.

Make the clouds rain on his new life,
And remind him that he has a knack for watercolors.

Lure him with oils
Guide him with spraypaint

This Year, show him the paint that
Will reteach color to him.

This year, let him understand that colors are bright,
But not the enemy.

Let him not fear red from the times that he bled,
Let him not cast away yellow, because the sun got in his eyes,
Let him not hate blue, because he almost drowned.

Build in him a reservoir for happiness, that could sustain him through this life that has already been too tragic.

God, on his birthday, please indulge these heavy hands so that they may not cross the fingers for his return,

Because God, it was not I who was born today,
And it was not me who was stiffed on birthday cake.

And though this prayer is selfish,
It is the only thing I can give him,
That he cannot refuse.”

And as I looked down to see my clasped hands, I couldn’t help remember
When one of them was yours.

And for my final birthday wish to you ,
I hoped that only your sleep
Could be relieved of the white knuckle tensions of restlessness

So that you may sleep, and know the peace that I felt,
When I slept next to you.



Happy Birthday,
I miss you.
Happy Birthday,
I’m sorry.
Happy Birthday,
This is selfish,
But Happy Birthday,
So were you.

I don't say I love you so you'll say it back. I say it so there will never be a time when you won't know someone loves you.

Part of me will never forgive myself
for not following through on the promise I made to you

But another part
knows that you wanted me too
Forced me to

Part of my brain was already on the way to the store
to get cupcake making supplies

when the other part of me,
remembered that you don’t have a sweet tooth

Unless the cupcake was laced with misery,
there was no way you would sink your teeth into it

I wonder why you had wanted confetti cake
when all you know is grey

I wonder if you were hoping that I could bake some color
back into your throat

so that your own voice
mattered to you again

I convince myself that things are better this way
but it is like wishing on a cake the day after your birthday

Forced and futile
though appreciating the sentiments.

I would have given you the universe baked deep
inside of the cupcakes that were my proof that I could be worthy

People take the world as they see it themselves
some see black
some see white
many see grey
as for me?
I see it for what it is....technicolored.

                                                                ­                                  Life is far to wonderful and bright too see it as simple black
                                       it is too deep and mysterious to be only white
it is too exciting and amazing to be described as grey
There's a reason that there is color present everywhere.
If the world were colorless, so life would be.
                                                             ­                                      But the autumn leaves are crimson and gold and apricot
The halls in which we walk are of light saphron and amber
                                                       The city streets in which we trod are spurted with shades of periwinkle and magenta
The meadows through which we stroll have flowers of violet and buds of rose
                                                        The trees with which we have our yuletide celebration are the solemn green
  Life is as we see it
dont be strapped down to bland colors like
                                         grey                     white                              black
Life is color
Furious Scarlet
                            Dejected Sapphire
                                                        ­         Joyful Fuscia
                                                          ­                                    Envious Sage
                                                            ­                                                                 ­       Playful Yellow
Even as you look in the mirror, colors are shown to you.
I see
eyes of chocolate
                                    cheeks of mauve
                                                           ­              teeth of pearl  
                                                         ­                                                 lips of ruby
                                                            ­                                                                 ­              skin of gold
Even my soul is multicolored in all its numerous facets

                                                       Dont let yourself be barred into the cell of neutrality

                                                                ­                                   See life for the rainbow that it truly is.

I know you loved me because
You taught me the solace in solitude
Acting as a protector from
The parts of you that were
Waiting under your skin
To leave me broken

Don't worry about making excuses,
I've already done it for you.

I'm embarrassed to admit I miss you.
I'm embarrassed to admit I love you.
I'm embarrassed to admit that I see your face in people everywhere.
I'm embarrassed to admit I'd gamble my life on the ability to grow up with you.
I'm embarrassed to admit I'll never be the right lover.
I'm embarrassed to admit I need you.

As I remember how her lips felt as they plowed through the barriers of my insisted claims of heterosexuality I cannot help but think,
without falter...

wow

okay,
but this isn't why I'm a feminist.

My attachment to her,
my fellow female,
member of my legion,
has nothing to do with
my squinting eyes
at the
blinking neon signs of
inequality
that hangs about all of our heads every day

Everything that once was so simple, now all seems so lost to me.
Lost to the world that fought me.
I feel my words blurring together with a broken jaw type of numbness.
It feels like my thoughts were beaten from my lips from the inside out.
I can still feel the burns of thoughts unsaid. I miss when times were tangible and things were nailed down.
But now my life feels like water.
Violent like the tides, dragging me out into a place where I don’t know how to swim.
It’s the words that I don’t know how to place that fill my lungs with every choking breath.
I’m in life too deep to get out now.
I’m imbedded, addicted.
Fastened to this current.
Like the van der waals force of my heart beating.
My lips tragically crave the taste of air and my heart painfully keeps the rhythm.
Step Step Step Step.
“Let’s go on,” my feet say in agreement with my heart.
The tears drag down and even they demand to be felt.
No parts of me want to go, but they all beat down on me demanding that I supply them with more energy to live.
I grow weak and hobble at my knees and wonder, “When will this addiction end?
When will I get some rest?” and just like that I’m gone.  
Not fighting the current, just floating.
Not swimming, just floating.
Not quite drowning,
but still,
only floating.

Today I went on a treasure hunt.
Not in search of one-eyed *****
Or
A new life for myself,
But rather
The old one.
Not for the sake of nostalgia
Was my search,
But for a poem.
The words of someone else
That you thoroughly believed
Carried your heart
Into my own ears.
But I was deaf back then.
Before I developed my selective hearing,
Insisting on my revelation miracle.
Until I
Limited my ears
Only to hear
Your lamentations and tongue-lashings;
Before I chose to
Blind myself
To the
Kindness
Hidden behind your fear.
In our prehistory,
You sent me
A piece of your heart,
Still sopping with heartbreak
Beating with rejection.
You sent me
Someone else’s poem
And now I wonder,
If you knew
You were planting a seed
That when watered,
With months of silence and
Countless looks that passed right through,
Would grow into a beanstalk
That I would climb
To reach back into
Our
Brothers Grimm Love Affair.
With no happy ending in sight
I stepped higher,
Knowing what turmoil I had left
Above.
I awaited the curses we cast
And the wishes we wasted
And I was poised for war;
With my armor coated,
Repellent of
Sarcasm and aggression,
I marched back to look at our battlefield
Ready as any warrior.
I was not ready, though, for memories
That looked as appealing
As Prince Charming,
With the face of
A queen.
No, my love
We did not have a
Happily ever after
But, our
Once upon a time
Wasn't half so wretched.
We were the
Fairytale in reverse.
Meeting at the ball,
In all our glory.
Leaving breadcrumbs
Back to the life that was familiar;
The ones that we didn't realize
We were running away from.
But at the ball,
Looking more beautiful
Than any princess in all of the land,
I met you
On your throne,
Refusing to Rise
In all your queen-like splendor,
Hearing from my
Little bird
That you would request
My presence.
I, your humble maiden,
Approached with
The caution of
A girl who only had
One shoe,
Breaking under the weight of memory.
And while you
Were offering me riches,
I was playing
Goldilocks,
Trying to find the home
That was just right
To rest my heart.
Little did I know
That I had bumped into Rumpelstiltskin,
Thinking he was gold
Luring me away
With me thinking
My heart was sold.
Only now
After I found
That gold weighs
Far too heavy
On someone
Who's only just grown wings
Is it that I find the moral of this story.
And so,
As I gaze at you,
With your now fair maiden
I say a solemn
“Thank you”,
For sending
Your love letter
In another's handwriting,
Because,
Although I never struck it rich,
I realize that the treasure was not in the
Happily ever after,
After all,
But all the magic
In Between.

You broke me open like an egg
Ate my affections for breakfast
Threw the shell in the trash
No more use to you anymore

I’m a cliché.
I’m a walking broken piece of glass,
insisting my glimmer is different
than all of the other fissures of society.
I seem to think there is something romantic
about living like I hate myself.
I am not only comfortable with being unhealthy,
I welcome it with kisses and perfume.

When people say “rekindle an old flame,”
I find it very misleading.
That flowery wording
Makes it sound so
Musical
So Promising

What it really is
Is that *** lighter
That you sparked
And resparked
And swore wasn’t empty
Before leaving in your pocket
Sometime ago.

When you found it,
you lit up,
Friction flicked that
Wheel
And watched that
Flame dance once more,
Enough to ignite one more
Toxic thought

Getting you high from the
Smoke
Clouding the past
Leaving you
Staggered
When your fingers
Bleed
Begging for
Fire

And you crack it open,
Look for what’s more
Not even smelling
Butane

Just smelling
Nothing.

It’s empty.

Yes, Sunshine. Stay angry at me forever. Use this break-up as another excuse for why your life is terrible. Use this as an excuse to have a chip on your shoulder that will weigh you deeper into your habits. I did not implant in you the seed of hatred that was already blooming when we met. You will care for and nourish the deep rooted evils that run through you like blood, a mimicry of a life, fueled only by the blood of your fury. Blame me for all that could be wrong, but you will see that the melancholy willows are far too engraved in you for you to hack them away with your searing alcohol and blame.

I have Scratched your name
into my Calendar

Your name sits on the lined of my diary
poised for consistent use

At what point did you become
so natural to me

So that when I said your name,
it tasted like nostalgia and hope

and the Cool Fire of our words
warms me to contentment

It wasn't until you spoke and
I smiled

That I knew I missed you when you
were gone

But how can I miss you
When you're only an hour away

Still
I'm regretting the wasted July Mornings

When my nerves swallowed up the sentiments that said
that I think of you sometime, even when you aren't around

It sounds frivolous to say that I'd hope for events
that would draw your lens near

But now I'm budgeting you into my time
and Just hope that it's not wasted

The effort it takes to write these sentiments down is
Nearly incomparable to that effort which must be taken

to Remind the heart on my Sleeve to stay put
and not seep into that vein that will Surely carry dreams across my body

The word that I could entitle
Perfect

And since that word is unattainable here

I'll only say all the others  

You're that feeling right after a pull
And you feel yourself slip under the friendly drowse

You're that feeling when you feel a set of eyes on your
blushing cheeks

You're the laughter of
a clever retort

You're a Melody thats gives spirit to my word

You're that fire that burns with
a bravery that you cannot see

You're that ticking clock, there to remind me
that Time is Precious

and Soon I hate that circled square on the
Calendar
&
I pray that that circle does not act as a deadline
for when your heart can be
mine

Because I like the sweetness of our fresh beginnings
And I do hope I may call it a beginning

Instead of a short story.

I'm all over the clock,
Yearning for more firsts with you

But even still, hoping for a second or 12.

And some first that could count
in a way that didn't get chalked up to

Naive Sentiments

Meaning I want you too much
And My head is rushing

Hours into this Instant.

Fast Forwarding to our Next Kiss

Sending me on a Clockwise Whirlwind
to times that may not even exist

But I still hope and Gamble
for More hours to play

Procrastinating the Seconds into convincing us all

That It's Casual

It is not Casual, to me.

It’s just that I always thought I would wind up with my soul mate.
And you were.
But still I feel myself getting very comfortable with settling with someone who makes me forget you.

I grow weary of crafting words that are spun together
feeling as if there is a beauty spurting from my pain
because the words are still marching from your wellspring
and they're saturated in your sticky intoxication
It forces me to taste the sour fact that
the fire you set to my life still burns
and decimates ties strewn out of feeble love attempts
No matter the count of the condemnations of our life
you still dwell inside of my every word
and all of my metaphors
My vocabulary is limited to you and
you drag me below the pool of new words waiting on the surface
So I rewrite the same sentiments that play between
self loathing
heartbreak
and love

Write where you want me.

He's Insidious
He didn't **** me
He just put his thoughts into me
He exploded all over my insides
The ones that matter
The thoughts I would have as I fall asleep
How I would view my body
He was ******
But only when it meant that he could further permeate my thinking
He sunk his teeth in
But only to venomize my thoughts
He washed my brain but it will never be clean of him
And this all sounds very poetic
But it's the only way I know how to express how violated I feel

I tell myself it will be okay
As I sit in my room
Clutching my hair at the root
Quivering uncontrollably
Feeling the loneliness run over my skin
Knowing once I break through
The world will stop being monsters
That wear your memory like a Tombstone
Howling at the moon like a cat in heat
I understand what withdrawal feels like
Except my drug is quitting me

Quantum physics scares the **** out of me
Well it’s not really just quantum physics
It’s everything that stands in between its letters
It’s both the solutions and the questions that frighten me most
I was 12 when I first had a panic attack about eternity
I was in the shower, writing thoughts in steam
When all of a sudden
I was suffocating on forever
And showered with thoughts of before time
The all around terrifying notion of timelessness
Caused shivers that felt like our heater had gone out again
Tears rushed down my face
Faster than the speed of light
Not that I knew what it was
But it felt like lightening filled my body
From that moment,
I learned my truest fear of unanswerable questions
As I grew and grew wary
I took less showers in hopes
I wouldn’t find my fears
Swirling in around my ankles
Clogging up the drain
Lingering there
As the only thing that I could
Never wash off of me,
Never flush away

As time moved on with
A sureness I could never have
I floated amongst the thoughts of
Others so as not to drown in my own
But as night comes
So others rest
And as others rest
The Fearful attempt to count sheep
But even the sheep begin to wonder
About the unfathomable
And before I know it
I’m screaming into my pillow
Blaming the sheep for my restless nights
Insisting I’m not crazy
Insisting that wool blankets are the problem
Picking problems to bring me to now
Problems that make the present
Matter more to this masochistic brain
Than the questions that I should never have asked

Unanswerable, I’d repeat
I’d resolve
I’d allow myself to toy the word around,
Flick it around in my mouth,
As if to keep it too busy to ask more,
But also to make the original questions taste so sweet
That I never wanted them to leave my mouth
So I swallowed them
As if to indulge my taste buds just a little longer
But they sat in my stomach like seeds
With time they grew up my throat,
Watered with theological and scientific discussions alike
The first time I was told that my questions, could have a solution,
My stomach lurched into my throat
Now was the time
The questions were uprooting, ready to grow out in this world
But my jaw was taut
And refused to let others be haunted
So the vines
With no where else to go
Moved with intention
Past my mouth,
Behind my eyes
Into my brain
It had taken over
I became my questions
Rooted in the pit of my stomach
Paralyzed by the pain of
Wooden rigidity
Each move dictated by the unbending will
Of an oak tree caged by iron
Questions acting as a fungus
Rotting out happiness,
Killing the mind
That had formed the seed in the first place
I was immobile in my fear and
Planted in my questions
Unwilling to explore
And so the tree stayed
And I saw the world through
Shaded light
Always careful not to climb
Too far up
Too far in
Thankful for the fact
That not many aspire to
Plant seeds
Let alone
Climb trees

By the time I first saw you
Many rings had formed
You were passing through crowds
Like you walk through forests
Letting things be
What they were
And
Watching people act as they may
Imagine my intrigue
As I saw the callous on your hands
Smelled sap on your breath
I felt a friendly fear
In your eyes
But your hands
Did not look pained
Only worn
Still with care
Only when you spoke
Did I feel the logic in your branches
The whips of your leaves that
I had refused to grow
You were questions fully blossomed
You had leaves made of
Wormholes
And
Budding flowers of dark matter
And as I drew my trunk back,
Insisting I was allergic
I got lost in your bark
I found possibilities
Buried amongst your ridges
I soon found a taste so sweet,
It brought shame on my appeasing mantra
Without control
Like forces of nature tend to be
I grew into you
Yet still,
It was not the color of your leaves
Nor the feel of your vines that took me
It was your ability to blossom
Your permission of exploration
The blossoms, though pleasing to the eye,
Grew through your watering and sunlight

As if by some evolutionary revelation,
I turned my face upward
And found the warmth of the sun
Didn’t have to burn me
I opened my body up
And felt a comfort in the waters that
I had once felt would drown me.
The budding flowers I had let wilt
For so long
Arose from my branches,
Now growing toward the stars
With a few more rings
Of sunlight and starlight,
You’re much better at blooming than I,
But with questions now being watered,
My trunk grows with possibility
I may never grow to such great heights
Or fully know the universe beyond
But I do know, that no matter
The truth
If the wormholes
And multiverses
Are as real as
The Redwoods
And
Cherry Blossoms
I’m infinitely pleased
That I’m in this universe,
Sharing starlight,
And questions,
With you.

You are the embodiment of my inner demons.
Your eyes flicker with my worst nightmare.
Your hands are filled with the fury I try to disown.
Your lips are infused with my exact poison.

And I love you like a child who has never been burned.

Angels feel to a devils touch,
Who could know i could feel so much,
from one so empty and dark inside?

Thought it felt so right it was truly wrong.
You entrapped me with your false love's song,
You burned away the tears I'd cry.

The imaginary love you'd give as a reward,
When I only gave and you just took more,
During our time in a fake stage of bliss.

Dying inside every lonesome day,
Pleading that it could remain this way,
Imperfectly perfect, a bittersweet kiss.

A distant memory, it only remains,
though my heart still bares the painful stains
of your loving ruse.

Now I walk away feeling stronger than before,
Ready for whatever the world has in store,
But still aware of the broken heart shaped bruise.

Ordinary people find each other.
For extraordinary people, it’s much harder.

People say I've lost weight
but it's just that
I'm only hungry for
You

When they asked if
We had gotten back together
I stuttered,
Unsure if I wanted to say
"I wish,"
Or
"Never Again,"

I went to pour out your bottle,
but found you had emptied it into your throat.

It was under the foggy inebriation
in which I saw you

With your cool undertones of confidence
that shaded in the new character

We spat cool fire back and forth,
relishing in the burn.

And so brought forth the
quick paced double-speak

When innocent glances linger
and Accidental contact is maintained.

It grows unignorable and

Through the Murky Starlight
You see slivers of intentions
that stab with an intoxicating sting.

Pairings that are all too clear,
Close in on a reality in which

Our Mouths are only just inches away

And

The air that sits between us is
but a fragile atmosphere

The kind that
we're convinced can be thinned
through your litter of affections.

And suddenly I find myself
rooting for Global Warming.

I was not
The planet
Closest to you

No
Not even a planet

I was
A Moon,

Only
Close enough
To have been touched
By your light

You see,
As a moon
You live your life
Half in
Darkness

So you know
A super nova
When you’ve met one

The problem is
The stars that
Shine the brightest
Are the very same ones
That burn out
too soon

And now
Our atmosphere
Feels the emptiness

And we hope
That space
could create
A time warp ,

Another dimension

Where we could
Stay with you

Feel your brightness
Forever.

Please,
Starlight,

Know you were in so
Many celestial Orbits,

And we feel
Colder,
At our cores,
Without you,

Our vision
Has darkened.

You,
A constellation,
All on your own,

We have only
Your stardust memories
To hold

When our tears
Shoot like
Comets
Down our
Faces,

Thank you
For the wishes,
Starlight.

I hope to
Catch your
Light
In another sky
One day.

I hate Alcohol

The burn down my throat
The immediate feeling of impending *****
The way it makes my face all rosy

I hate Cigarettes

The taste of the tar filming my lungs
The heat at the back of my mouth
The cough that stays longer then the flame’s invitation

I hate You

The weeks of silence during your antisocial comas
The love proclamations left unsaid
The line that you’ve so carefully scalded  between us


It’s 9:27 PM on a night that feels like Fire

I am Drunk already
I am Chain Smoking your brand of cigarettes
I am Praying for anything at all from you

I hate that.

Tis but a moment that we live, but an eternity that we feel.

Each tomorrow’s tomorrow will be a yesterday and

I hope for you that all the clouds of tomorrows and yesterdays turn to one thing.

And that is Love.

That love that you love as more than love.

The love that all boils down as the gift we’ve been given by no one knows what.

Some say God.
Some say Serendipity.
Some say Something Else.

Whatever you believe,

After all your tomorrows pass and you have only yesterdays to hold

It is the love you breed, here and now, that carries you into eternity.

Grab your share now, for one day, it may not be sitting there waiting for you to feel.

Love fully now.
And be loved fully forever.

For even if it is just us, the stars must be tired of destruction.

Cast love across the sky that even the sun feels dim against.

Create a love story that the moon bows to and the stars pay homage to.

Even if you believe that this is it.

Why would you not take what you can get?

If this is true, then it will be the all and only love you get.

And as for you believers, breed the love you will feel into your forever.

Create an echo of your eternal cry of “I LOVE YOU”

“You” being all.
“You” being the ones closest to your heart.

Let your heartbeats matter.
Let them create a soundtrack that will carry on, even after you’ve gone.

Believe in More or Not.

It doesn’t matter.

The only thing that you need to believe in

Is Love.

Cliché it may be.

But it is Love.

You left
a white lighter
on your coffee table

so that when
we'd go back
to collect your things

from a crime scene
we had been to
countless times,

we'd know that
you died
thinking yourself

a King of Rock and Roll.

But really
you were
the prince

heir to
all the love
dad had to give,

bestowed upon
year after year
with the kind of too much faith

that only
parents
can give.

You heard
their lessons
about the world

being your oyster

but never payed
attention
to how to care

for
your
people.

You were
always
about the show,

You'd give all
the glitz
and glamour

off of your very own crown

thinking that
if love didn't sparkle
people wouldn't know it was

there.

But then
someone gave you
purple-hazed glasses

and suddenly
the world was
love in your pupils,

they flooded
your irises
with a shine

to which no amount of
family jewels
could compare.

Your eyes
had seen
radiance

and all you had
to go back to
was flaw

you saw
a life
that was hard

and surprisingly heavy
for being so
empty,

And you just
kept chasing
the smooth blues

that would never hurt your ears

or play you
the old song
of wasted potential.

Even as you wandered
popping and
repopping your ears,

our love was
dull to your
rock and roll lifestyle.

I know how much
you missed how it
was before

you got discovered by it,

eager and seething
to sink its hooks
into another good one.

Instead of
writing your own
song,

you faded
into the old
one.

And now,
I've lost word and
lyric,

melody is
ash
in my pen

because the music
wasn't in me,
dude,

it was in you.

And now the record
keeps playing
through the air,

but none
of us
want to hear it.

When you went,
you left us with
a ****** white lighter

and you took the music with you.

My heart breaks
Quietly
Miles away
As you fall asleep
Without me

Do not stay with anyone
who makes you feel like
anything less than a
cataclysm
of the most beautiful
natural disasters
to ever occur.

Thank you for validating
the debilitating fear
I had of losing you.

At least I know I'm not crazy.

Or at least I know I wasn't.

The Reds Rocked me into decimation
The Oranges Overcame my shriveled form
The Yellows Yearned to return to that saddened smile
The Greens Grew a seed of perhaps
The Blues Broke through the dried esteem
The Violets Veered me off the path again

Lips like fire,

She scorches the town,

Leaving Ashen faces as signs of her affection.

Words like water,

steaming the lines of reality into

Smudged intentions.

Spine in flex formation,

She flips into memories, 

Avoiding snags.

Her brain in carefully curled spirals,
Dyed the intelligence that she deems fit.

She plasters their words over the fragile 

Threads that make her fly.

She buries herself in reflections, 
Willing away anything unseemly mortal.

Eyes like the plague,

Infecting those who look too close.

Hands like claws, 

Engraving pleasure scars across 
Your form.

Breathing in security from diluted sources,

Traced with innocence and lust.

She grows addicted.

She looks in curiosity, 

She hears the auto-tuned heartsong,

She smells with weakening heart, 

She feels the onset of withdrawal,

**She Bites

It’s my fault
I shouldn’t have found meaning in anything
I shouldn’t have believed any of your words that could implant hope
I shouldn’t have thought that you driving two hours to pick me up meant anything
I shouldn’t have seen any significance in your kiss
I shouldn’t have believed that sleeping together meant something
I shouldn’t have thought that you holding my hand meant anything
I shouldn’t have thought your telling me a happy ending to a story similar to ours meant love.
I shouldn’t have hoped that you would defy the world around us
I shouldn’t have trusted your words that said I was the only one you wanted to see
I shouldn’t have believed your honest eyes
I shouldn’t have thought you meant it when you said you missed me
I shouldn’t have been surprised when you ignored me
I shouldn’t have done any of these things
And I knew better
But it doesn’t change that my heart is breaking worthy of the Richter scale
And I shouldn’t let my world crumble before me, but
This feels like a force of nature under which I will be crushed.

I always wonder if all the hours I've spent wanting to be you,

You have spent wanting to be me;

And as soon as the thought rushes to my pupils, my vision is blurred with tears,

How could that be, that the most magnificent person in the world could want to be anyone but herself?

But then the photo focuses and I can see the bigger picture:

This is what the world does.

She looked in the mirror
And saw flecks of his broken soul inside herself

The Problem with breaking your heart
is that you can't let it heal to someone else's frame.

I wonder if that watered down ***** drowns out the taste of your daughter's empty "I love you's"

You'll never say
"I love you"
Just like
I'll never say
"I'm Happy."

Because our words are bullets
And
Neither of us
Can handle
The recoil

What if
Our lives
Aren't
Bulletproof

These thoughts
Will rip through
Their centers

Exploding
Outward
Downward

Shattering our Foundations

Making us fragile

And we will fall.

Our best hope
Being that the wind
Blows us
Into each other

Standing

Ambivalent
From
Death

But the winds
Are breaths
Of
Our demons

And they
Only
Breath for destruction

They are
Dragons of Warfare

So we sit
In our
Ceasefire

Wondering
How long
We can
Hold down
The fort

Treading on
Unmarked territory

We try
To watch
For ***** traps,
But they lay on
Places most beautiful

And I can't help
But aid the
Enemy,

Revealing
The chinks
In my armour
As I attempt
To nuzzle my way
Into yours.

But it is in
The dead of night
That your enemies
Come,

Monsters
Filter your dreams
To darken
Even the
Lightest peace.

Your demons know
How to
Push you
Past
Where you thought
You could go
To a place
That looks
Too much
Like a haven.

They can
Turn your
Own words
On you

And make you
Feel like
you are on
A suicide mission

Their voices
Whisper
So clearly

"What am I even fighting for?"

And suddenly
No cause
Seems worthy enough

And you
Lay down your arms
Because

This is not your first time at war.

You know these trenches.

You feel the shrapnel
Ringing out
Through your bones

And in these
last moments
Of
Utter Defeat

You think
To yourself
How you would
Give
your
life

To go back
And
Release the Trigger

Because
How could
This fight
Be worth
The limbs
And
Hearts
You've broken?

So I stand
Before you

At
full attention
Swallowing
My bullets.

I
Am
Not
Scared
Of
War,

But yours
Is a casualty
I cannot dismiss.

And though
I believe myself
A Revolutionary

I am
Choosing
To
Pick my battles,

Which proves
To be
My civil war

Defying myself
For my
Adopted Cause.

Before,
I could not decide
If I was
A lover
Or
A soldier

And now
I've found
You've
made
me
Both

A paradox
Similar enough
To

I'm not happy
Like
You don't love me

She turned on her speakers
And listened to her anthology
Of lovers sing through the air

When you told me that you didn't make promises I didn't think anything of it.
It was only when my mouth was filled with gravel and blood, when I tried to lean on you, that I realized that this was what you meant.