Belly aches painted with doubt,
You are my everything,
This I’m sure of.

Yet I feel your butterfly hands dance around me,
Your ladybug eyes telling me that
To you, this is more than play.

Blowing a wax candle will just cause a spill.
I let you fly, flap and crawl into my carcass.
Until I find my wings I’m your meal for the taking.

He fills my freckles with blue,
My hair with yellow.
Oh to see the world as you do,
I would give every future breath
for a moment of clarity.

A mouthful of sorry before I'm even at fault.
Careful tiptoes across an icy layer of conversation.
I will burst through the thin floor.
I always do.

I'm so sorry.
I don't know why I'm like this.

I am a house without a single window.
No air allowed inside of my swollen lungs.
No vacancy in the clogged doors to my words.
Please keep out.

I really do apologize.
I'm such a ******* mess.
I'm not poetic
Or artistic
Or anything but terrible.
I'm sorry that I'm terrible.
You see, I really can't help it.
Except I know that I can.

I'm drowning,
I'm drowning so fast and I need someone to tell me I'm going to breathe again.
There's no air allowed in my flooded pipes and
I am now humbly dead.

Now that my body is an abandoned house,
There is something I must confess:
I'm scared.
I am really ******* scared.

There's familiarity within this young feeling.
Your hope is freedom I flourish on.

First hand held,
kiss stolen,
neck marked,
thigh bruised.

All is foreign to us both,
Yet I feel ancient in your arms.
You paint me in certain a light that can only be seen in the blackest of nights.

Yellow glow swatches your eyes with pure affection,
I feel you everywhere.
You drink me and suddenly my body is nowhere to be found.
The puzzle pieces are fitting quite nicely.
Through loving you,
I feel beyond loved.

Fumbling down into a rough forgiveness,
I trust you again.
We dance in a circle of pink hugs and hope.
This time it will last.

I've finally won you back;
After years of chipping away at your scull and jabbing your heart,
I've learned to caress your fears and soak your joy.

Yet this only lasts for a breath or two.
I am once again blue and hollow.
It's time to break my own heart.
Not the first time, won't be the last.

I am addicted to the bruises I give myself.
It's not a matter of choosing sadness, but rather choosing anything.

Anything is better than this rusty cage I call my home.
Hot anger, sharp dejection, grey terror.
I let it all fill me.

I let it fill me to the brim,
because destroying myself is the best way to know that I'm still alive.