Suicide was her seventh grade kiss that didn't let go when she did.

Suicide was the brightest star in the sky. Every night she would pick it out among the rest.

Suicide was the white around her eyes. You saw it when you looked at her, but it never stood out to you

Until her iris turned black.

do not date a girl
who writes.
she will internalize
everything,
carve poems
into your eyelashes
instead of
kissing them,

she will analyze you,
calculate age
from the rings
your coffee cup
leaves
instead of refilling it.

she will memorize
the way your
lips curl around steam,
but not that you
take it
two sugars,
no cream.

she will read your
palm instead of
holding it
against her chest.

she will not
blink
when you leave,
because she is
already
romanticizing it.

You are your heartache
You are your mistake
You are your destiny
You are your catastrophe

Your thoughts are your poison
Transmuting to mindless action
Your words your dagger
That yourself can only conquer

You are the world you create
You are the answers you await
Be your own mentor, hero and friend
For the one who makes your life is you
In the end.