I am internally screaming.
But I keep my mouth shut,
And my scars hidden.

But I just wanted to say I love you

Fingertips frozen,
Arms up my sleeve.
But I have to write this idea down.
My hands are already filled with ink.
Everything has to be gold these days.
Golden chain, Golden eyes, Golden soul, Golden ring.
Still want to be the one to speak her name as mine though.
It's cold outside,
But I'm colder.
You poor thing.

Ghosts are real,
Monsters are too.
They live inside us.
And sometimes they win.

Baby, I've always been writing.
But you made me a poet.