what was i supposed to be?
imploded stardust, floating aimlessly across
the universe expanding, never minding
cruelty escaping, dissipating,
but i can't be nothing if i was something,
laws of conservation of energy rejecting
my lack of preservation.
i want liquid gold inside my veins,
ruptured mind, kaleidoscope bones
creaking in the night.
i'm lost, florescent daylight
cold and grim, fabricated and burning my retinas
an eight hour parable trying, to stay afloat
but coming home and wishing dark behind
what was i supposed to be?
sunshine reflected on flowers
warm and liquid, amber in the windows
dripping, pain immersed in honey
making the best out of a leak flowing
endlessly through the tap,
my kitchen sink old but practical.
i was supposed to be me,
whatever that may be.
when do we stop playing games with love?
when do we let our cotton candy hearts be
dissolved by a wet, sour tongue
when do we allow ourselves to be vulnerable
without anything in return?
that's there's strenght in fragility and ferocity
in salty tears;
when do we stop lying to ourselves and
settle for a love that doesn't burn our souls?
yes, i'm back and drunk and maybe a bit sad
we become stories,
i've never had a first love;
but i've ******,
had one night stands
and morning goodbye's
told myself love is chemical
love fades and never comes back.
Love's a reaction,
at the right or wrong time;
we lie, we lay next to our selves, we seek
to feel a hole in, to make ourselve fill
in a mold that everyone's talked about
what is love but imperfect.
Filled with some lies, with some hatred
with some humanity.
but I'll never be whole
and never a hole;
I'm complete yet
wanting to be less lonely.
i'm in a relationship but this is the first time that I've been with someone I love. I don't really know what I'm doing haha but do we all
what about all of you guys,
have you been in love? Been heartbroken?
It's a strange place to be in, isn't?
She’s tried to write so many times before but can’t. Sits down on the chair, fingers static over the keyboard. Where they were once electric with the flow of motion and words, they rest like the awkward break in a conversation.
She thinks it’s so hard to write when you’re happy, loved the despair and feeling numb, used them like gas for a one way vehicle with only a crash for a destination. She loved her sadness too much that now that she’s happy words have betrayed her.
What can she tell a world that relishes in the darkness of emotions, in the pain, the heartbreak, the despair, the sadness, the loneliness and the isolation when she herself thrived in the pessimism.
How can you water a flower that nurtured itself in misery?
she is the heaven
you would go to hell for
he kisses purple onto my skin
and i let him because he says it’s love.
between my blue skin and his red lips,
we make color bloom,
i say i love him too;
maybe this time it will be true.
love won’t save us,
but it can make us better.
Lick the words
from my lips
let them slide down
like fruited jewels,
dark, hard candies
that melt into cream
a healing liquid
oozing into my
pumping milky beats
permeating the deep
of my wild
My syllables will
around your syntax
of buttered silk
flow into the ether,
as heaven's night
We twirl our tongues
into guttural utterings,
that glides from
to an outpour
We feed each other
our saliva like honey
dripping with dawn's
as we open up
like baby birds,
begging to be nourished
at all costs
in this lingual forest
Your breath finds a home
on my tastebuds,
In between the tumults
is how we