I breathe in the light
and I’m already choking;

this is no place
for the girls
that have ripped their own chest open;

do not save me now
I am to dwell with the unspoken.

It’s hard to dwell
in a world not my own,
where no one comes to find me,
no one comes to make sense of
the words I rip from myself
like dead skin.

I don’t exist,
just as tonight never happened,
just as your lips never rested
upon mine.

I am made of hollows-
not much of anything,
maybe just a shadow,
maybe just the last cry of loneliness
before a cold hand comes to smother it.
It’s hard to imagine a future
in which
I won’t be just a repressed thought,
just a rain drop that refuses
to come down to earth.

And yet I try-
even if every time I turn to the light,
darkness is never far behind me,
ready to grab me by the shoulder
with her precise and malicious claw.

You never gave me a second thought.
I know that.
Meanwhile, I can't stop writing about you
in the emptiest moments of the night,
when nothing else tortures me more.
You have no idea
what you've unlocked inside of me.
You can't possibly know
what you've done.
I'm burning down to ashes
and I'm coming back to life every time.
You were my first fire.
You didn't care if I'd revive.

I could never doubt my soul
under a clear night sky;
not when stars are calling my name,
not when the moon watches over me
motherly.
I belong to them and the dark
and to light, piercing thick pitch.

A voice is calling my name,
from fogged surroundings,
begging me to come.
My legs are led into pitch
and I dive in deep,
oblivious to my own decline,
into a continuous darkness of self.
The voice still bellows,
with newly found screams,
and mean eyes gaze at me,
glowing with satisfaction.
I am eaten out alive by the unknown
and going back is not an option.

Rest a thought at the edge of my bed;
I never minded the immeasurable,
nor the immensity of what a second can bring.
Whether the cracks in the walls can speak
(their mouths are too close to my ears,
their breath is too far into my subconscious,
too far into my unforgivable thoughts),
or the outside air can fill an emptiness not yet defined-
it won’t matter-
closeness and loneliness have never felt this similar.

Rest your being onto mine;
This is the last drop of vulnerability I dare give away.

Let us burn,
for we were not meant to be saved,
for we were not meant to rise back up,
ever again.
So we've fallen,
so fallen we remain:
foresaken as a fate,
fearless as a choice.
We roam the earth,
we watch the stars,
we let them stare back with imposing shine,
for when the time comes,
they all fall.
And us, we multiply.

To demand too much is a sin;
so is rising to where I think I belong,
to where I remember I came from.
I remember,
even if the gods want me to forget,
to erase from my memory
the stern voice
they banished me with.
I came to earth through light-
the light of Jupiter’s wrath
after I dared wish for more.
Hubris is not to be played with,
is what the scars on my back remind me each night,
yet all I understand is,
I have nothing to fear anymore.

Do not tell me how to fall,
not when I still hold the memory
of having had wings.

I see you, Winter,
creeping through cracks,
slipping innocent snowflakes out and about.
I know you, Winter,
and your icy touch and your frosty flowers.
You fooled me with beauty
that happened to be deadly,
just a year ago.
I'm not falling for it now, Winter,
don't you dare bring to me
another pair of sparkly eyes
that shall freeze me
in only a few words.
Do not show yourself with tasty lips,
blowing icy winds into my mouth.
Let's make peace, Winter,
and enjoy ourselves,
this time around.

The witch’s hour approaches-
What an unearthly time to be alive,
To open your eyes in fear,
To shut them back into illusion.

In your tired veins, yesterday’s sorrow sneaks through;
Do they burn with numbness?
Does the air caress your venomous pores?

This girl is a witch;
A witch is a saint,
For all the saints have confessed
To having sinned.
Can a god resign?
Can he seek forgiveness?
I hold him in the palm of my hand-
Tired creature,
Old with time,
Dark with worry.
There are no resurrections left to save
What is to be forgotten anyway.

The witch’s hour passes by—
The almighty can be put to rest once more;

Sleep in a mattress of distress,
Slip in oblivious bliss.

Don't leave me wondering,
crushed by question marks,
wildly searching for answers.
Don't clothe me with doubts
and strip me of certainty.
Should you go,
attack me with reasons first,
until I'm cut open,
so I can avoid
the depths of wonder.

I'm not asking for the Sun,
just a ray of blissful warmth would suffice.
I'm not asking for a star,
just a little sparkle would be enough.
I'm not asking for the moon,
just a bit of space dust's all I need.
I do not want your whole heart,
for I would not know what to do with it,
each beat spreading my anxiety.
All I wish for is one of them,
just one heart beat missed
for me,
and I'd forever be yours.

I let myself sink into you,
not once regarding warnings
of storms and wrecks.
I pass them by,
being certain the fall shall hurt.
But why should I care?
I'm hopeless and I'm cursed
and I'd rather drown into your waters
than dry up completely
on the shore.