You wrap your icy fingers around my petals,
around me,
and you squeeze squeeze squeeze,
until I escape and hide inside,
and warm myself by the fire,
safe in my flowerpot.

Je suis un vagabond insouciant
I was once a child and got whatever I did want.
Je suis un navire flottant **** de ton monde
You were my sail and to you I grew fond.

Un jour je mourrai. Tu ne pleureras pas pour moi.

she whispered to me of sacrifice,
of the suffering i must endure for a beauty unmatched,
and although it means nights feeling empty inside,
at least the goddess of a failing practice will love me.

i learned happiness from someone else
found my light in a boy i could never begin to love healthily
and although we talk,
he's no longer enough
and my courage shrinks smaller with every day that passes
and i thought maybe cutting myself open
and finding that small coal of a sun in me
would help me
would show me its there
but its dead
gone
goodbye forever

in another life
i was probably happy without attention
from boys who just wanted to ***** me.

this is not that life.

to be fair,
the sunlight i found was not pleasant,
and it burned me like any sun would had i gotten to close
i tried my best to be there, but i was there much too often
and i didnt protect myself!
how silly!
with the lack of protection when being so close to him,
i burned,
and the brilliant ball of flame that was the man i had fallen for
hurt me without knowing it
and even now,
whilst i imagine ripping my sun-burnt skin off
and  relieve myself of the pain of his kindness,
i would still let him be close.

i would still let him be close
because although i know what he wants of me
i know the sin he sees in his mind when he speaks to me,
pretending to be lovers
is still better to me
than just being his friend.

i will depend on the sunshine that others provide for me
all of my life
and although its unhealthy,
nobody's ******* healthy.

the truth is that i cant be my own sunshine.
but i will not cry anymore over what could have been.

life no longer has the same shine
that it did when I was young
now all I do is sit on my phone
and play Solitaire
because where's the fun I used to know?
Where's the fun I used to want to have?
Am I doomed to be this way for the rest of my life?
do I never get to be happy in the same way again?

and i lay on my side oftentimes
when i am able to talk to you
and in that starless night under cover of darkness
i love you, i love you, i love you
and you love me, you love me, you love me
enough to listen to tired, whiny ramblings,
mostly asleep,
you let me breathe.

my hands are on a wall of wet paint.
if i dont move them, itll dry on my hands,
if i do, the paint is on my hands anyway.
make a move, or stay this way?
i am full of cracks anyway.
maybe i can be freed.

Too far apart to tell,
one sleeps.
Too soon to tell,
the other beats awake.

i want to be the perfect, slim doll
so that way your agreeable warmth
envelops me so entirely
and so you can lift me
so that the things you do to me in a night full of physicals
look pretty on skin of glass
your shirt hanging off of me
like drapes to the window
and the aftermath of ruthless movements
still shows in the way my slender legs wobble
i want to be the kind of skinny
that look good after i've been ruined so completely.

If I were louder
Maybe my "I love you"s would reach you.

songs that remind me of you
are flowy and make me
have memories that arent even mine.

"What Falling In Love Feels Like"
is the first.

I am exhausted,
a growing rust
maybe i would turn to dust
the more i write the more i despair
at this point i wont even rhyme anymore
i hope you find the sadness in me
like the light i found in you
im too tired to capitalise anymore
im too tired to punctuate anymore
i bet my english teacher would hate me now

You have your ways,
your sunshine-y ways
you are perfect,
you are bright,
you are true.
Though we haven't talked too long,
I will say that I love you.

and tonight,
thats not so bad
and tonight,
i love you
and tonight,
you are so ******* perfect.

mon étoile.

if there were better words to say it,
i'd say it all.
were there a better way to show you,
i'd do anything.
but i love you.
i love
love love love love you.

mon
étoile.

Honestly, although I will tell you it wasn't your fault,
not even I now believe that.
You were so scared then -
so fragile -
you were so small to carry all that hurt and sadness.
I promise you that I'm trying to do better,
for you, little me, for you,
and maybe someday I will truly be just that:
Better.

and although my selfishness is something i despise so often,
this agreeable warmth is something
i almost want to myself,
because as long as there is someone to love me,
there is also someone to save me.
and although you cannot FIX me,
you're still going to be there,
and you're still going to hold my hand through a rough patch,
and if i am possibly to fall,
you'll laugh, sure,
but you'll still pick me right back up.

its because you love me,
or whatever.

one day, a cup ramen and tap water.
one day, a burnt pizza, because i'm stupid and forgetful.
one day, a single hot pocket, cold in the center and tasteless.
one day, a bag of chips and a 99 cent arizona tea.
one day, a zebra cake.
one day, a 50 cent soda.
one day, nothing.
one day, a passing thought about stealing from the store.
one day, a lingering thought about stealing from the store.
one day, a startling fear that i'll starve to death.
one day, a cup ramen and tap water.

if there's a space in front of me,
why not jump?
if there's a pen in front of me,
why not write?
if there's a rope in front of me,
why not pull?
if there's a note in front of you,
why not read?
...
and if your arms are open for me,
why
not
jump?

I would much prefer soft, for my petals are weak and fall easily.
I am overlooked.
The stars would shine bright above us.

If you speak gently and stay for a while, I promise I will not wilt.

he says,
with the passion of stars dying,
in their final breaths explode,
that i am his.

he says,
with the love nobody else felt so deeply for me,
in due time surely i'll marry this man,
that i am his.

and i say,
after all my talk of nothing being guaranteed,
with an absolute that i will never make for anyone else,
that i will stay always.

and what on earth is the point of being,
when there's still that creeping, sinking feeling,
a fire in my soul always reduced to embers,
and hopes crushed to dust beneath heels,
of people who preach of their status above mine.

and what on earth is the point of living,
when i am belittled so often in my despairity,
that words of "others have it worse" from people close,
eventually became words of my own,
and i poisoned myself so willingly.

and what on earth is the point of continuing,
when all i see is bleak and dreary,
where in my sadness over trivial, unimportant things,
like spilled coffee or being unproductive,
have me ready to pack up my backpack and leave?

all i ever pray for
with waning courage,
and a cracking voice,
is for someone to save me.
someone to hold onto me
and not let me go
because i am so
so close
to falling off the edge
and at this point
darkness springs to envelop me
and my happiness is swallowed
and drag me away...
I hope he drags me away
because hurting others is the one thing I'd rather die than do.
please. ******* save me. someone.
im begging.

and there is someone i love,
he, patient, while i not so.
**** the universe for making me so uncertain,
when what i failed to realise that i was always,
always certain of you.
there are stars within your soul, and you are my light.
you are my sun. my stars.
and i will do anything for you.
**** anyone who gets in the way.
mine.
such a small word, and yet it fills my heart to overflow.

the hands on clocks,
they follow me endlessly,
and when i think i have the time to rest,
the hands, they catch up,
and i am on the run again.

but you take my hands into yours and we run,
and now time catching up feels not so scary,
because at least im running from time less alone.
at least im running away with you in dreams.

it feels like i'm no longer alive
and
am just getting by
on the scraps of  something i don't quite understand
unsettling something settles
and suddenly

>> throw yourself out the window.
walk into traffic.
those containers in the mirror cabinet, take them all. <<

huh.

Maybe I opened more social medias,
maybe i did it to gain extra attention.
Maybe it's a way to cope,
with the ****** things that have been done to me.
I cope with these horrible memories,
by making myself an object for the internet.

for two weeks,
i had stayed comfy in my home,
because April showers sure do pour.
if i had known me coming back were a problem,
i would have stayed home again today,
because what would i listen to your scolding for?

the hands on clocks,
they follow me endlessly,
and when i think i have the time to rest,
the hands, they catch up,
and i am on the run again.

but you take my hands into yours and we run,
and now time catching up feels not so scary,
because at least im running from time less alone.
at least im running away with you in dreams.

i honestly wish the situation
would pass quickly
and honestly i wish i had a say
but she is the one its about
not me
i am her sister
but my opinion is not relevant at all
and i am just a watcher.

Had fire rained from the sky,
and had you asked me to save you from the heat,
I would have thrown you out in an instant.
I would have watched you burn.

Missing what I do not yet have,
texts of "I love you" filling a heart that weeps
and it does so weep for him.

at this rate it seems
almost impossible
to find a place to be, that I can call home,
because it's been so long,
since home was a place,
and it feels like it'll never be a place ever again.
so for now,
my home is you.

although I am having a difficult time
without a home,
he feels so much like home that sometimes,
I don't even notice anymore.

I am the duality of man,
I am a quiet voice and a loud roar.
I am hate and love in one person,
I am sadness, happiness,
I am two in one...

I am split down the middle but sewn together.

They push
ME
they pull
ME
but they belong to
HE
I wish
HE
would stop hurting
ME

I am a smoldering rage.
I am something you cannot hold.
Touching me will only hurt you.
For I am fire.

If there were a way to write I love you
On everything
On every surface and every crack and anything else
I would
I would would would.

Homelessness - for me - was the shame
the raw shame I felt emanating from my mother
any time she had to ask a friend or her own ******* mother
for a place to stay.

Homelessness was the embarrassment of
"I could come over to your house to play!"
"Oh wait..."

Homelessness was the frustration of yet another house
that we could not get
we apply for all the ones we can afford and yet...?
Still we sleep on a couch and hope to find something.

Homelessness becomes hopelessness in so short a time.
The longer we have no home,
the longer we feel like we'll never have one.

May my heart rest easy,
or shall it weep from yearning?
Will it's tears form puddles in the grass,
and grow flowers out of it's tears of want?

Hold me gently
In all the right places
Because I'm almost certain
That your touch would set my insides ablaze.

Today a man showed me a way to be happy
it was the path of flowers and birds sang,
but my hateful nature will not allow
for me to be swept away by lies...
what a funny man he was,
too bad his preachings fell on deaf ears,
too bad I chose war.

You make me feel like the world might be okay.
No matter what ashes burn my eyes,
No matter who does me wrong,
You give me that one thing I never I thought I would have,
in this crumbling world of hate and destruction.

You give me hope.

You promise with a tongue of ***** and a brain of fuzz,
that you're not annoyed,
that you are busy...

I understand the business,
but a hate for me burns low,
a hate for me builds up to a roaring inferno,
a hell that escapes you at the worst of times.

Just tell me you don't want me.

I am often up til 3 a.m.,
the hands on clocks merge and jump,
and I often miss large chunks of time,
because that's just how it is.

The one thing I want to feel
more than anything
yet it is so far away...

Anger was my passion,
the pen I was given to show it was my voice,
but oh, the times when I used it irresponsibly,
an abuse to the power I was given...
though it could have been used for good despite it's rep,
I used my anger for a stereotype,
I used it to push away.

honestly i lost the joy
that comes from opening presents from a big bearded man
which - now that I think about it -
is creepy.
i grew up and situations became worse
to the point where christmas is full of horrible memories -
three christmases spent homeless,
one spent fearing for my life,
and many of them pretending things weren't as bad as they were.
basically,
i spent this one alone
because that way nothing can hurt me again.