Slowly,
Take one,
Take another,
Take ten million,
Just breathe.
There's a world of creativity,
Growing within the confines,
Of your critical veins,
And to slice those of which,
House the very essence of yourself,
Is a disservice to your being.
Slowly,
Take one,
Take another,
Take enough,
Just breathe.
You have purpose,
That seeps through the,
Light you bring to the room,
When you laugh.
And to silence that,
Is to **** your soul.
Slowly,
Take one,
Take another,
Take them all,
Just breathe,
Sweetheart, you deserve it.

Kiss me until I'm drunk  
and slurring my words.

Kiss me until I am stumbling
and tripping.

Kiss me until my breathe leaves
along with the world.

Kiss me until I forget my name
and my past

Kiss me for as long as you would like.
Just kiss me.

Envy is not green but
something perhaps a little more sickening to me
than chartreuse and a spoiled ego.
Envy is when i see boys walking by,
looking down at myself again, i see my curves
and i hate them.

i don’t want them.
i want to look like the boys.

Envy is seeing other girls more androgynous
than i;
girls with broader shoulders
and with more angular faces.

why can’t I look like that?

i hear voices deeper than mine:
tenor, baritone—
and I shred my throat
day-by-day,
trying to come close to the pitch.

Envy is the aches in my body when changing
my posture from legs to shoulders;
from changing my stride
and preventing my hips from swaying.
i want to look like them.

seeing these people makes my insides feel
like they’re being twisted with a red-hot fork;
and it hurts, oh God, it hurts.
it hurts to know i will never look
like how i see myself.