the rain is making small rivers
in the parking lots and crosswalks
I could drown in one on accident
or get struck by lightning
the thunder is so strong that
a painting could fall off the wall
and crack my head open
this is all so terrifying
I feel small, like a child
(I am insignificant)
-

I still think about that boy sometimes
in the same way that someone who breaks their kneecap
gets a ***** put in it to hold their bones together
but they are only reminded of it
when they are at the airport and they
have to walk through a metal detector
-

flowers are effortlessly beautiful in life
and they are effortlessly beautiful in death
(there are some mornings when I can't
even bring myself to look in the mirror)
-

I can't draw worth ****
even my stick figures suffer
my paintings look like
pathetic Jackson ******* wanna-be's
spilled milk is more ascetically pleasing
than my attempts at water color
but there is one art I have mastered
(I'm not really okay)
-

one of my favorite places in the world
is a beach made entirely of glass
each little piece of color was once a broken story
sharp and jagged, it could cut open veins with ease
but the sea was patient with the shards
spent time polishing and softening their edges
until their true beauty was revealed
-
(you are the waves
I am the glass
you make me beautiful)

you are a shadow
wherever I go
there you are
-