“You have to move, get up.”
“I don’t want to.”
“This is sad you need to get over yourself.”
“I’m broken, and I don’t think I can be fixed.”
“Then fake it. Get up and put on a smile.”
“It hurts too much; I just want to cry.”
“No crying! It’s not worth it.”
“But I just can’t let go…”
“You have to move on. It’s the only way.”
“Please, all I want is five minutes to let it all out.”
“You’re pathetic. Fine. Five minutes.”
“Thank you,” said the heart.
“You’re welcome,” said the mind.
And the heart and mind cried together.
Just for five minutes.

𝔀𝓱𝓮𝓷 𝓞𝓻𝓲𝓸𝓷 𝓶𝓪𝓴𝓮𝓼 𝓱𝓲𝓼 𝓼𝓮𝓶𝓫𝓵𝓪𝓷𝓬𝓮 𝓮𝓪𝓻𝓵𝔂 𝓼𝓾𝓶𝓶𝓮𝓻,
𝔀𝓸𝓾𝓵𝓭 𝔂𝓸𝓾 𝓷𝓸𝓽 𝓪𝓼𝓴 𝓱𝓲𝓶 𝓽𝓸 𝓵𝓸𝓸𝓴 𝓾𝓹𝓸𝓷 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓰𝓲𝓻𝓵 𝓶𝓪𝓻𝓿𝓮𝓵𝓵𝓲𝓷𝓰 𝓪𝓽 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓷𝓲𝓰𝓱𝓽 𝓼𝓴𝔂?

There's a book of saints that has been touched by my fingerprints
But do not worry, it has not been sought open
Not by me
Or any

There's a book of saints and the others have stolen it from me
Translated it in a language that's is unknown to me
That is foreign
One that is on the tip of my tongue but it won't fall from me
Words like that do not belong in a mouth like mine anyway

I've left the notion of rationally a long time ago
Why reason with a stone?
When it will only be used against you as a weapon
The only breath of fresh air I have is my own
And it's dangerously decaying

Flowers bloom in my bedroom
But wilter in my closet
You see sunlight can not find its way in there
And I can't pry it open with my hands
Because every time I try they become flowers

But they are so beautiful
Executes everything so stunningly
That they leave traces of fairy dust
They are the most pleasant thing to see
It makes me want to shower them in gold
Show the world that not all I do is ugly
Or is unnatural

Because isn't it such a nature thing to do?
Bloom in the darkest of places

And isn't it funny?
How choices can be like flowers
Be alive so unapologetic-like
Except they are so fragile
Yet so elegant
Maybe it's morbid for me to compare myself to a flower
Since we all know what happens when winter comes
And I live in a vicious cycle of coldness

Nonetheless, there is no stopping my beating heart when the sun comes
Nor when the rain pours over my love
Drowning me in lavender

Do not worry I have seen what floods can do to fields of flowers
How they swallow up any life and destroy it
Send it to their death without a second thought,
There is horror in this world
That has been left to swim unchecked in these prairies for too long
Ignored and said to be harmless
Ignored when they drowned my fields of violets

So no I will not grow into a rose
I wish for you to follow me with this
Yet words to teach you my language are untranslatable
There's is nothing I can compare to the feeling of making a home out of one outfit
Nothing to make you understand when I say I'm okay I don't need to change
There are no words to transcribe the feeling of being content with your body
And what it can bloom

...my head back into the pillow.
She quickly straddled me.
She began a gentle rocking motion
with her hips,
with subtle glee.
Her thick, precious long hair,
hung down like curtains of night,
around my lust-flushed face,
until I was in perfect darkness right.
She then began caressing
my nakedness with her feathery-locks,
along my silky, trembling body,
from up my heavenly hips,
my tight, tender, heaving tummy,
my aching, stiff-nippled *******,
my entire being erupting in goosebumps,
chilly and blazing,
spicey and tasty,
aching and burning,
burning,
burning -******!
begging for quenching,
which she does
quickly
and
I'm done.

I want to come out.
I want to walk out and slam the door behind me
with whatever variation of a rainbow flag
billowing in the wind as I walk past.

I want to be out.
I want to be me and do so shamelessly
without fear of judgement or dislike
from people who may disagree

I wish I was out.
But I don't even know what I am
I want be yours and yours alone,
but there's no flag for that

I wish I was yours...
you have my mind and body and soul
but I'm just here on the side,
because you are still hers.

i never understood the phrase
home is where the heart is
until i was shaking on the floor of
my hospital room and it was nothing
but walls
and even when i found the energy to
decorate with cliché little things
like fairy lights, posters, my
skeletal “art”
i felt the room swallow me whole
until i was nothing but a grain of sand
my new roommate was a wrinkly zucchini-girl
and i tried not to speak to her
but we heard each other cry in the night
and we never said a word
but i could feel her eyes on me
a girl down the hall
heard me talking about my addiction and
she told me she would pray for me
later that day she pushed me
into a wall and pressed her
lips against mine
then told me i was tempting her,
i was a sin
just waiting to happen
so i sat in the dark outside her room every
night before i went to sleep
and sometimes she would
come out
and hold my hands
and tell me she loved me