Your eyes burn red,
As the demons sit inside your head,
Awaiting for tears to spill
Before tempting you to take another pill
You clutch your heart in some fright,
Knowing that you are going to die tonight,
Some part of you whispered to put up a fight
And you tried... But now it seems you have no more might.
Happiness.
Life.
Will to live.
Is something that you cannot just give.
As the chill of the death infused capsule touches your lips,
You will grit your teeth as the demons beg you for one last sip
Of the pain.
The fear.
as Death draws you near
And cradles you within its crooked embrace
Glances over your dying body with some haste
Your body heaving a chilling sigh
But the Demons will forever whisper, and torture inside.

I entrusted you with a tiny flame
to grow and to protect.
Together we grew it into a bigger one
You held it for me
So that one day I'd take
it back.
Why'd you douse it?
When it was still growing?
When I trusted you with something so important?
To me.
You ended what I believed in,
because you wanted something bigger.
I thought you'd be different.
But like every other shelter of
that little flame,
you failed.
Because you saw something more
magnificent.
You lost sight
of the beauty that you held in
your hands.
So you let
the rain fall through,
your crumbling will
and let it drip on the
growing flame.
So don't ask me for
another.
My match can't light another.

I had gotten so used to self-hatred
That when he called me
"Beautiful"
I wondered why,
Why in the world
Would a bee leave
Roses, marigolds, sunflowers
And choose to be in the mud?
"Because YOU," he said,
"You are my lotus".

This winter I'll spend bitter like all of the cigarettes I smoke. I'm depriving myself of all of the warmth inside of me, and all I want is your arms around my freezing body. Then again, I don't know what I want. Nothing and everything both at once. This winter, I'll spend bitter. Alone with the thought of you. All the ideas and promises you offered me. I miss you.

Red,
Paint me red
The color of our passion, dear heart--
Until I realize you that you painted it
The color of rusty hinges.

Yellow,
Paint me yellow
Because I thought yellow was sunshine
And happy
Or maybe windswept afternoons
For dandelion wishes--
Until I saw that you painted me sickly green pale yellow, the color of hospital rooms and body fluids.

Paint me blue
A soulful sky blue,
I thought that you couldn't go wrong with blue--
But now I'm an indigo mess, very sad
Drowning--blue, I'm blue.

So paint me black
Like hateful ink
Or skies with no sun, no stars,
  I'll be a masterpiece then--
Or maybe I should've realized you're no painter, and I'm not a clean canvas anymore.