my wrists still hurt more from your rough hands
pinning me to the floor,
than anything I've ever done to them before.

my head still aches more from screaming,
rather than by an old concussion lingering.

my eyes still cry and leak over,
but I'm not sure why anymore.

But as long as it's don't ask, don't tell,
I'll be fine.

The horizon
A fog dusted oblivion
And you
All alone

I am bad at falling in love
I trip over the broken bones of every word I never found the guts to say
I am broken more often than I am whole and even then I am still broken
I write dreams and fantasies at the back of my hand
I misspell the word trust on a daily basis
I dance with my own shadow when dusk settles down
I whisper truths only when the lights go out
I make sure I'm alone in already empty rooms
I hold my breath and scribble notes, scrambling to survive

do not date a girl
who writes.
she will internalize
everything,
carve poems
into your eyelashes
instead of
kissing them,

she will analyze you,
calculate age
from the rings
your coffee cup
leaves
instead of refilling it.

she will memorize
the way your
lips curl around steam,
but not that you
take it
two sugars,
no cream.

she will read your
palm instead of
holding it
against her chest.

she will not
blink
when you leave,
because she is
already
romanticizing it.

When they first tell you to hold it in, you pretend not to hear,
you shut your eyes and girt your teeth,
you ball your fists and split your skin.

Sharp nails digging into pink flesh
Battered heart taking it's last breath.

Darkness surrounding.
Darkness inside.

When you rise again you let loose, you pretend not to hear,
you stare them in the eyes and let the words out,
you show them the light and you dare not fear.

Truthful words cutting through the life of lies
Still beating heart rising from the dust.

Darkness surrounding.
Darkness outside.

Trying to find you
But you are so elusive
Happiness isn't real