I am
Nothing more
Than a bag of bones.
My rib cage
Is a prison you rend
In twain, tear the mesh,
And sift fruitlessly through.
I am
An empty shell
You discarded;
All unraveled ends
And frayed edges.
I am
Orange peels
Carrying the essence
Of something sweet
As an echo of scent
And color-
-I will
Return to the earth
And start again.

I've been keeping my hair short
Because you liked it long,
And I'm not strong enough
To relive the feeling I got
When you ran your hands through it.

So I'll continue to cut off
The ends that are dead
Because you are too
And it makes me feel closer to you
Somehow.

im a mess in a broom handles world,
swept off my feet for any pretty girl,
im a child writing names in wet cement,
singing songs as permanent as sound can get.

I sit on the step
And draw
The cold around me
Like a blanket,
Savouring the numbness
And the heat
That begins within.
Swallowed by the night
Drunk on wine
And stars.
Hot tears on cold cheeks.
Seasoning for
Chapped lips
Stinging
Bringing fresh tears.
I take refuge
In the silence,
Under the gaze of
Sympathetic eyes.
My friends.
My constant companions.
Drunk on wine
And stars.