child of two moons
        the harvest wheat grows
        diamonds
        on its stalks

daughter of the broken king
        your carousel’s chained bears and albino
        peacocks scream at night for
        their release

lonely lover
        the keyhole is  rusted since he last
        touched you
        the oil getting rancid

martyred saint
        your doe heart has an arrow of Cupid’s
        skewering through a demon’s
        confession written in fire

weeping widow
        your maid took your cup of tears
        to water the lilies giving
        root at his grave

sanguine seamstress
        do not stitch the bird’s
        wing that has bashed
        out its brains

non-existent soul mate
        your fingerprints stain
        my poems
        with star grease

lover whose number I lost track of
        I feel your footsteps ricochet
        within my bones please
        stop running I’m trying to sleep

The blank page lies open,
Like a freshly fallen field of snow,
Ready for me to leave my mark
In mucky prints of ink;
Dark across it's ****** slopes

I have little issue with speaking the unspoken,
But begin to falter in breaking the unbroken.
The page is inscrutable; oppressively immutable,
But it's inexcusable to deny its aspiration.

So I must bite my lip and gird my *****,
Break the unbroken and spoil the unspoiled.
But if I set off will I stumble?
What if I fall?
What if the penprints I leave across the field of my page go nowhere after all?

Well there are many fields, and many pages;
And on this long journey; many stages.
I roll in the snow and make a mess;
Start with a word and see what comes next.

So just explore where the blank page leads you.
It may not go where you expect.

Head up, stay strong, fake a smile, move on,
they always said,
No one will see a broken spirit.

They were wrong.

Your eyes saw past it all.

The way your eyes loved my soul
wasn't in vain or vanity.
They didn't see the complex masks
or the pounds of makeup --
Your eyes saw me in all my simplicity.
You dove into the darkness of my eyes
and found this small broken light --
some strange thing you called a *soul.
Your eyes loved that shattered light --
they held it with kind words and soothing embraces.

I felt like The Golden Girl turned inside out:
a face comprised of dullness and imperfection,
a soul of great beauty and grace.
With words, smiles, and touch,
you convinced me to stay in my skin,
but for once in my insipid life,
my soul felt alive and bright.
No longer would I battle the darkness,
no longer would I be afraid of the monsters inside.
Your eyes struck the match that ignited my soul again.

We.
In a table together
choked with warm colors
of our skin.
Suspended by the music
my breaths
and your prayers.
Hostages of our desires.
Trapped by life.

pretty is so played out
so used
like a childhood toy
when youre in your 20s
its manipulative
and tired
pretty gets you places
like a strangers bed
or stuck in someones
head
pretty gets you
fooled
into thinking
thats the only thing
good about you

did she make a home in the spaces between your ribs too?

2. i have still have your sweatshirt. it doesnt smell like you anymore. its okay though, i smell it every time i dream.

3. i miss looking in your eyes and seeing the galaxy.

4. they say you get a new layer of skin every 7 years and i cant wait to have skin you havent touched.

5. i miss you. i ******* hate you but i miss you.

6. i still have bruises, they just arent surface level anymore.

7. do you ever think of me anymore? today i saw a sweater that i'd know you'd love. i wonder if its the same for you.

8. i hope someone hurts you like you hurt me. karma is a ***** after all

9. you're so broken but so am i. we could of took our pain and made it into something beautiful, a mosaic of brokeness.

10. today i smiled and my eyes smiled too and its the beginning of finally moving on from you.

how can you
plant yourself
inside my heart,
put down roots
inside my head,
push all of
what you are
into my body,
take over
my memory,
**** up
my sanity,
then just
walk
away