Towering new york skyscrapers scraping by,
Burning cars and crying taxis honking like a broken record,
Crushing fragile crystal windows under hurried and hushed steps,
Bumping into each other and mouthing a flimsy apology,
Digging heels into half-dried concrete and waiting to dry up as well,
Reading into life a lil too much and getting hit by a car,
I guess

life isnt always the frosting on the cupcake
sometimes its the wrapper and
belongs in the trash

the flowers i turned into a bouquet yesterday
are now wilted and burning like fuel
"everything is fine"
is a bigger lie than the smile on my face
when i wake up every morning
and now i feel myself
catching  on fire too

i melt into your words like they're poetry
so here's my attempt to give you what you've given me...
how i see your world from my rose-colored glasses
and see a fairytale, and when i take them off,
i find with you reality is just as sweet;
how i'm always quiet when you speak because
i can't find the words to embellish my thoughts around you
but you can spin silk with the tongue you sing with;
how your smile means miles of metaphors to me
and on days i can't return the favor
you're able to shine though the clouds in me;
and how i feel compelled to tell you everything
even if i can't bring myself to say i love you aloud yet.
i don't deserve your poetry
and you're above mine,
but if you'll take it then that's all that matters to me right now

what a beautiful thing it is to have loved,
before winters demise and thoroughly through spring
but before i plucked petals from the flower-- i already knew
and yanked the flower from its roots
because you trampled all over them. My prince,
you trampled over them as i held you at the
summit of mount olympus.
i opted to put that very flower in my hair and
ran away singing,
what a beautiful thing it is to have loved.

because i've been in my own hell,
because i'm still there and
can't bear to see even
a single tear of yours
fall into your own hell,
don't ever doubt for a
single moment
that you are evolving,
that you are a work in progress,
that you deserve each breath
you take from this planet.
because,
honey,
the world should bow down to you.
the world revolves around you
in your own life,
so don't listen to your
inner demons, they aren't of this world.
they aren't of your world.
*become the sun.

At 2 am broken thoughts
Seeped out of my skin and soaked the bedsheets
At 1 am writing diary entries
Because happy things happened and
Forgetting sadness requires remembering happiness
At 12 am on the computer
Wasting away life for a lack of motivation,
Becoming motivated,
And then self loathing for wasting life
At 11 pm drawing a picture
(Because someone else wanted it)

The things i really want
They are scattered in between the carpet
And peel and tear at my feet when i walk across it
At 2 am im a broken thought