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sky
cotton candy clouds of calm swirl into my skies, sometimes
the dark parts of me can be subdued momentarily, and
when they are, it is beautiful, it
is something that paralyzes people with its beauty, and
something that touches the heart of the unholy, it's only
ever something that occurs rarely, yet when it does I
cling to it, like a child to its mother, because
who knows when i will see another sky, a sky
that is not filled with darkness and lacking so much light, a sky
that does not disregard the day and settles in the night, a sky
that although holds the Venus lining, is still smiling
at the world, unapologetic in its beauty, you see
my happiness, my light, my flourishing garden, is like the sunset, it
is so short, so sweet, so beautiful, but can never escape the inevitability of darkness, it
will always fade into the night, gone, lost, without a sight.
how do you do that please I would love to know, how
you take something that has been b r o k e n, beaten, and
abandoned, and
find a way to further the damage, please
I would love to know how you obliterate something that has already been obliterated, please
tell me how you burn ashes and turn them to nothing, please
tell me how you find a way to **** something that is already dead, please explain how,
you take a category five hurricane, and increase it times ten, tell me
how you make something empty even emptier than when you began, how
you freeze something that is already frozen, please
tell me how you broke my heart when it was already broken.
XI
I've always known that the glass was half empty, and
not half full, you
have only ever wanted to leave me empty, abandoned
and all alone.
i’m made of sidewalk cracks and moments i should’ve taken
i’m made of broken rings and the wrong girls i put my trust in.
because i didn’t know what love was until i kissed a girl made of thorns
and i didn’t know what happiness was until fear started sleeping without locking the door.
i’m no where near what the world makes me out to be
what it expects from me
and maybe that’s okay.
i’m made of ****** coffee and the constant pressure of being something else
i'm made of holes in the foundation and girls that kiss me just to watch me melt.
because i didn't know what lust was until i touched skin made of broken glass
and i didn't know what hope was until i fell a little too fast.
my story ends before it even starts
because forever is only real if you look like art
but i look like broken promises in an empty hallway
and maybe that's okay.
and strange what desire will make foolish people do
it's sort of funny how we convince ourselves of many things,
in order to fit into our perception of reality, like
take for example, you
this person who I thought was like the universe, so
mysterious and beautiful, so
underappreciated and ignored, so
I launched myself into your space, and
I suppose somewhere along the way, I
saw the black hole in the distance, I did yet
I chose to admire the millions of stars and the planets, thinking
that that inevitable end was oh so far, yet
I was wrong because, the thing about black holes, and
the thing about you really, is that nothing can escape them,
they consume everything no matter what, they
have no regard for beauty, no intent on doing anything I would consider to be good, but
they do not know any different, that
is what they have to do to exist, and
I just wish that you would have been the universe instead of the thing that destroys it.
I am sure that somewhere among the wilting and lonely parts of myself, somewhere
six feet deep within the graveyards of my brain, there
is something to be salvaged, something
that can grow again, something
that can save me, but
I suppose it is simply a matter of whether or not I choose to search, whether
or not I think it is worth searching, whether
or not I think that I am worth saving, and
as of right now I do not think so, but
somewhere happiness does lie, and
perhaps I will find it someday, whether
I choose to live or die.
dark clouds cover the sunshine in the dismal sky of my mind, creating
thunderstorms of sadness that spiral out of control and suddenly,
suddenly the flowers I have been trying to grow, and that
I thought would be helped by the rain regardless of its abundance,
are drowning,
they're dying from the very thing that was supposed to help them, and
I do not think they can ever be saved.
please, spare me the spoonful's of sugar you claim will make the sickening medicine, meant to heal the wounds you created, go down.
my dear,
just because you sugarcoat your words,
does not mean they taste any less bitter
.
you can't conceal the bitterness of your words with something sweet,
no matter what I will always be able to taste what you are hiding underneath.
I tend to my garden of loneliness,
planting seeds of solitude and watering them with words of wisdom, yet,
they do not grow,
although the sun shines upon them day after day,
and they feast upon droplets of rain,
they stay miniscule,
perhaps it is meant to stay desolate forever.
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