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can you feel that?
the thoughts are pulling
feels like a hook in the gut

it's grueling
words ruling
like a book that i can't shut

mind stealing
what am i feeling?
i'd rather feel anything but

fate sealing
revealing
it's something, but i don't know what
.
Please
don't talk
when the hurt
comes. There are no
words for this pain. And
no, we won't pray about it
Or leave it up to God's grace.
I'll be strong; I'll get through this,
But I'm not wishing anymore.
They tore down my stars
A long time ago.
For a friend who lost hope.
Remember, God will find you in the storm.
The world ended last night.

I’m sure it did.

And while I squeezed souls
From pillows,
Soiled stars
Wrought one tip of my brow
And bled every last liter,
For tomorrow’s star.
Atop melody,
I imagined a piano,
The nail-less fingers a’rapping,’
Opposed my battered knuckles,
Awry atop ivory
And concluding chorus,
A not so sad one, a not so bad one
But the last one;
Certitude and
Without encore in earshot.

The world ended last night;

I know now, beyond doubt, it really did.
The silence you clothe yourself in will become a second skin. You will work hard to remove it. You will scrub yourself raw until the sweet scent of orange blossoms replaces the lighter fluid that has seeped into your pores.

When you finally tell someone, you will be drunk. It will be 2 a.m. You will tell your parents, it will spill out of you as you hover over the toilet. Your secrets mixed with ***** and something sour, something burning, something permanent. It will feel good, to flush the pain out of your throat.

It will be hard for you to be intimate. When you talk to that boy in your English class, you will feel butterflies for the first time in months, those same butterflies whose wings were clipped that night last July. You feel the butterflies, yes, but you will cringe when his hand brushes up against your own.

When that same boy asks you out on a date, and he opens the car door for you, you will want to run. You will feel the air in your lungs combust when he kisses you. You will think he is trying to draw blood when he bites your lip.

You will wonder if he can he see the bruises and fingerprints that still stain your nakedness

You will not believe him when he says “I love you”

When he asks why you never want to touch him, why you talk in your sleep, why your chapped lips are a graveyard eroded from the salt streaming down your cheeks, you tell him everything.

You do not cringe when he tries to hold your hand this time.
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