your wounds glistened in the moonlight

the pain wreathed the shards of a glass heart
all together & the depth of the fall
was enough to break the wings of an angel
into pieces

but as the hope inside you crumbles into ashes
while all of the feathers slip away from you
into flames & smokes
will you find a moment to close your eyes

look at how we were made to fall
so we could find peace in the pain

would you listen so you could see deep down
there's a diamond now
of what used to be a shattered hollow

—it's fire is burning you back to life

as you bathe in the warmth of all the blood
your wounds glistened like starlight

so why don't you show the night sky
that in its darkest
diamonds bleed the brightest
& in the darkness
something it can never have back
is reborn

why don't you show all of the stars
who's the brightest
how gracefully you can burn
for freedom;

when they finally know
what their ever-burning fire can defy
they will fall

because the gravity of beauty is cruel

but broken angels, with the cost of our wings
these hearts of diamond is why we're
unbreakable people

so what's there to fear in falling

we're not as gorgeous as the stars
without all of our scars;

without loving the fire that burns us
it would turn us into ashes

Don't worry, spiders,
I keep house
casually.

(read forward, then backward, line by line)

I ran.
Not knowing what else to do
There was so much blood on my hands
It was mine
The kitchen knife
Caught in my chest
Guilt
Consumed by
Fear
I was heightened by
Adrenaline
But running on
Wasn’t enough
While trying to stay calm,
Losing control
It was me that would end up
Dead. Because
He was
In front of me
The whole time
It was too late
Trapped
I found myself
Locked in chains
My fate was
Death.

i am so desperate for his affection
that if he held out a cup of poison
i would've accepted it with glee
convincing myself the burn it left
was his dose of warmth for me

My mind is a graveyard,
of memories I’ve put to rest,
sometimes I’ll drop off flowers for the ones still banging at my chest,
but I’ve learned the more I visit them,
the more they hurt,
like ghosts they’ll haunt me,
till I dig them back up,
God, why do I love playing with zombies that never even loved me?
people who care for you don’t make you dig up graves,
just to bury themselves again,
but truth is,
zombies aren’t real,
and neither were your apologies,
because who apologizes by digging up dead memories,
instead of planting flowers on their graves.