One is Attraction, the pull undefeated.
A willow swaying in a barren land that’s counterfeited.
The siren on the shore, the relentless deceiver.
Dilator of eyes, arrow of love that’s unrequited.
A lightning in a jar.
A vault full to the ceiling.
A crater from a star.
Ravaging like war feeling.

Two is Courage, the push of death and glory.
A volcano of heart spewing out lava, caved in quarry.
A dagger cutting deep, the vicious territory.
Mistake to rue, the driving factor of the story.
A temporary elation.
A heavy pen to write with.
An abrupt deviation.
Wings and a tall cliff.

Three is Confession, the towering dam collapsed.
A diary in the sun, the voice of compassion and lust.
Naked truth and waterfall, an iron door trespassed.
A glimpse of the future, a ripe fruit of the past.
A dark room entered.
A pink envelope delivered.
An amatory venture.
Beauty in something shattered.

Four is Rejection, the end of the world.
Calamity made happen, melted candle and the cold.
The night killer, umbrellaless in a downpour.
Coins in ripped pockets, a fractured soul.
Debris of cards.
The shortest kiss.
Excess of stars.
A bullseye missed.

I don’t drink
and I don’t party either
don’t do drugs
and not because of fear

I’m 21, but a rock solid introvert
social anxiety has me seeking cover
thoughts like stallions, I need to hold my horses
just sad
I’m way too young to be thinking about…

let’s not go down the rabbit hole
I’m not Alice
know no malice
but I’m not soft

why don’t we just go downtown
hit the store
our boulevard
lagoon palace

I cried for years knowing my baby was gonna die
and when she did it took me three days to stop
I was out of tears
and aware of afterlife
two nights after she visited me asleep just to say she was fine

and on the nights I cried in advance
I could’ve drunk or danced
but I didn’t
it’s all awfully sad
I should be living my youth, it’s bad
I’m too young to be thinking about…
death.

I’m in the highest tower picking petals off of flowers.
Listening to the sound of silence, this is what I do for hours.
It never was about the extremities of youth which everyone had.
I lay on the bed.
I keep account of the boys I yearned for but I never had.
Like a princess in the highest tower I spent my best years.
An endless pandemic it is.
I do dust angels, dust angels.
I’m a ******.
I’m a harlot.
I’m God’s favorite.
A dragonslayer’s love interest.
But in this tower I’ve no choice but to stay.
My prince must’ve died on his way.

Nothing.
The dreams don’t exist.
The fears don’t exist.
Memories.
Relationships.
It’s all empty space.
Love affairs.
The dogmas.
Gaping wounds, wide smiles.
Unsaid things, joy rides.
Broken hearts, good deeds.
There’s nothing in this place.
Just silence.
Absoluteness.
Peace.
But the place where I’m at right now has every one of those things.

I did it again.
I am a victim of self abasement.
I let my fear get the best of me.
Take a smile away from me.
I’m falling back into the basement.

Nothing such as the nagging feeling whether it’s love or a one week thing.
A perfect mixture of affection and greed but never sure if they blend well.
On the water surface there’s ripples and watercolor palaces.
Like spilled paint.
Dancing from left to right.
Is it wrong or right?
He’s cute but I already got someone.

I never lock the gate to my personalities manor.
I’m in Denmark but I wish I was with him in Oregon.
It’s most likely a come-and-go kind of situation.
But regardless, I wish he was here watching the buildings dance.
Their reflections.
That resplendent street in Copenhagen.
It’s like they melted like I melted when I met him.
Like a watercolor palace.

Dark hair, cute eyes, yes, I like that.
But it’s not everything about a man I want.
My fetish is honesty, realness, when he listens.
When he tells me I said the same thing twice.
If you think that we’re not meant then don’t prolong it.
What’s meant to crash will crash anyway.
And don’t you ever break my heart for fun.
It’s always been my least favorite metaphor.
And my least favorite reason to run.

Cause my heart doesn’t break.
If they told you I scream your name at midnight it was fake.
But don’t you say a word to your friends.
I know your address.
Why don’t you straight up say it to my face.
That you knew we were not meant and let me crash into you.
You closed the gate in the last second.
Was quite the explosion.
And I still remember that look on your face.
It was so unattractive.
That smell of a sweet fruit that’s gone stale.
My kink is real **** but you were just fake.

And I finally mean it when I say I’m over you.
Cause my heart doesn’t break.
And I finally mean it when I say I’m over you.