If I had an autopsy,
I fear that my heart
would be too heavy
to hold.
For it is filled
with raw emotions
and it weighs my chest down
with every last breath.

I'm surrounded by all this blue
but all I want
is to be with
you

Ever since
I put that
blue pill
inside my mouth,
as it traveled down my throat
into my stomach
and while it made me happy,
I couldn't piece together my words
but I guess that
I could only write
when I felt broken and sad.
I guess that it is the price to pay.
To write I must be sad,
To live I must be happy.
To die I must write.
To be born I must write.
You see my problem?

Please don't be alarmed
when I ask
if I can paint on your body.
I just can't imagine a better
canvas.

the birds sing for you,
for all of us.
the wind plays with your hair.
the grass welcomes our tired and bare feet.
the trees cool you,
when you sit beneath them.
there is so much in this world,
ready to do anything for you.

I tell the moon about your name.
I tell the stars how your eyes shine brighter.
I tell the sun about your smile
How it warms me on grey days
I tell the sky how much you love its blue.
And I tell the clouds how your
bed is softer.

Fallen Angels all around me.
Misery upon misery.
Your broken arrows are killing me.
What have you become?
The thing you hate becomes your fate.
Your destiny, Fallen Angel.

In the early mornings,
when I cannot find the motivation
to get out of bed,
I look at the books
that I have not yet read.
A wave of guilt washes of me.
I turn to look at the unfinished drawings
and the pencils that are still sharpened.
A wave of guilt whispers to me.
I roll over and see the empty words
of stories, with the characters unpublished.
A wave of guilt drowns me.
It seems these days, I am nothing but
Guilty.

my heart hurts
for many things,
you are more
than one of
the many

we are so small
and
insignificant
in this giant,
spectacular
world.

Darling,
it is alright
to take a day off.
From the pain,
the tiredness,
the sadness,
the stress.
It is alright
to find yourself.
Or even to sleep a bit longer.
It is alright.

it's
so beautiful
watching
something
grow
old

sometimes the wind
rocks the swing
outback
and I remember
all those times we sat
together
in the summer days

I am Pluto. Cold, alone, small, and distant.
I am the misunderstood.
The outsider.
The one who isn't the one.
The one who is the outcast.
The one who is cold.

Winter.
It strips the trees bare.
And finally, we can look through the branches
And see just how lonely we all are

Spring.
It brings back tiny flowers.
And we remember
how much we missed the little things.

Summer.
It brings hot afternoons
And warm waters.
And we know the warmth around us
was dearly missed.

Fall.
It makes the color darker and fuller.
And we can play in the leaves
Like children once again.

Trying to not think about
being curled next to you,
is as hard as swimming
in a tsunami.
Like an ocean,
I have to wait for
my waves of emotion to calm.
But the tide won't come.

oh how much I
want to jump into
the incredibly dark
night sky
and swim
to the blinding stars.
To grab them
and bring them in
close to my ear,
to hear the whispered
wishes of the people
around the world

when I'm sad
the sun sets into my rib cage
my chest crashes into my spine.
fingers will claw at my skin and hair
and slid with the tears on my cheeks
I want to scream my pain
I want to set fires on my body
just to remove the sadness
that sleeps in my veins

i don't want to be your girl
i want to be your gun
blowing off the heads
of every ungrateful son