The thing about
a sunflower and I

Is the sunflower would
wither if the sun stopped
kissing her every morning

And just like the sunflower
needs the sun to flourish,

I need you near me
for I bloom by your kisses

And just like the sunflower
worships the morning sun,

I worship your
cold almond eyes

I write so not to
suffocate on my
smoky thoughts

I write so not to
forget that I, too,
have a voice that
won’t be silenced

I write so not to
use the knife
as an outlet

I write so not to
choke on the thorny words
that linger in my throat

I write so not to
be hushed by my—
inner demons
—sweet seductress

I write so not to
burn alone in
my own inferno

I write so not to
die

The chained ankles
are heavy and aching
with ****** bruises

The chained ankles
would rather break free

Christopher is utterly wrapped
within the cocoon of his own mind.

One can vividly see him
as he struggles with
understanding what
others think, feel, and believe.

Therefore, his self-identity,
his idea of himself,
is practically the same as his
sense of the outside world.

2.
Unlike everyone else,
Christopher does not seem to care
about being identified by other people.

He prefers to spend his time by his lonesome,
it somehow keeps him more connected with
reality which is something he struggles with.

3.
Christopher is quite an observer,
he views the world
in a distinct, but a unique way.

4.
Christopher never uttered the word father,
for it was heavy on his tongue,
like heavy rain on a bleak midnight.  

His mother loved him, or
ruined him and called it love.
He cannot tell the difference
between these two things.

So whenever he loved someone,
he’d unintentionally break their heart,
and utterly ruin any chance of love.

5.
Christopher beloved was
in the shape of a knife,
so he used her to write this story.
The gushing blood was his ink,
and the tears were his last silent screams

Let me whisper
my last goodbye
between your lips

Oh, won’t you let me
bury this poem along
with our dead love

And pour my salty tears
upon your naked shoulder

This morning,
I’ve shed the heaviest tear
after twenty-one years
of deadly silence

Mother
was the first
to steal
my innocence

Death
will be my last
silent cry
to regain
my purity