Last I could remember was my sister,
Running towards me with a sharp blade and blood blister.
Vacant mornings and bed of plain routine,
2 years past since the loss of queen.
Neck eternally stamped with a razor knot,
Thoughts nevermore within vengeance plot.
But sobered up, I’ve seen it all before,
No sister nor blister, a schizophrenic lore.

I wish I could tell you
How much the quality
Of my day
Depends on the quality
Of our interactions

But the quality
Of my years
Depends so much
On your reaction

I love John, she said, euphemising me to play dead,
I said sure but inside my head I started picturing him in my bed.

Outside the filthiest room I sneakattacked and started to consume,
our lips began to fume and his smile erased the gloom.

Skipped the bread for some red wine, at least it wasnt moonshine,
couldnt walk any further on the line since it felt too ******* fine.

I knew it would be trouble as soon as I got stung by his stubble,
so we formed a brown and grey bubble, made the population double.

I find myself hiding, from all the decorous chiding,
we're foolishly sliding, in our bubble of bliss we're confiding.

Slippin by the sleeping moose, watch the penguins as they snooze,
No need to even zip the ***** since he's the drug I choose to use.

Inhale the scent of his collarbone, entering my safety zone,
watch him while he's getting ******, the smell of ****'s like his cologne.

Catching the sunrise, never knew that it could comprise such a beauty of that size,
but seein' it through his reddish eyes, makes me wanna demise the kingdom down between my thighs,
just give it away to this guy so I can keep on getting surprised by the Castlewood morning skies.

“I'm sorry..”

I've written this line
over a thousand times,
yet every déjà vu-filled
renewal of it is a testament
to your influence on me;
an indication of my complete
adoration for you.

Forgive me,
I'm still learning how to adjust to
your love’s wild pirouettes while
keeping my footing.

Teach me.

There are 1.5 million of them.
Words, that is, in English.

Only three matter:
I is a pronoun.
Love, a verb.
And you is more important
Than all the rest.

One for every five-hundred-thousand,
But you is one in a trillion.

I want someone to love me
like I'm the reason they exist
I want someone to spend hours
mapping and memorising
every inch of me
I want someone to ask me
about my deepest thoughts and desires
I want someone to know all my fears
and all my favourite things
I want someone to look at me
like my eyes are the sun
and my voice is the wind
and my anger is a storm
and my sadness is a
deep
deep
ocean
I want someone to lay with me
and run their hands through my hair
and be pained by how much they love me
I want to be loved so much that I feel it
wherever I go
I want to be loved so deeply
that on my darkest days and even darker nights
the love radiates out of me
and cocoons me in strength
and support
I want someone to love me so much
that they couldn't imagine a single second without me
I want someone to love me like I love them
I want someone to love me.

As you grow older,
Remember the memories you've made.
Remember the people you've met,
    and those who became your closest friends.
Remember who you are,
    and the values you hold.

You will be challenged.
You will be tempted.
But remember that you are
    never truly alone

Your family will always be there.
For support.
For love.

Despite the differences you and I have had
I will always be there for you,
My little sister.