something
in the middle
of my chest
is
   slowly
crawling
    it's way
        up my throat
itching, aching to be released

     (it's a scream that no one will hear)

i
really
wouldn't
mind
if
it
didn't
feel
so
pointless

i am no flower.
i will not
wilt in the heat
or shrivel in the cold
my skin is not bright like a petal
albeit smooth and shiny
                                (once it heals)
i do not sit still
waiting to be admired
or plucked from where i belong
only to die
at the hands
of someone who only seeks to replace me
yet again.

does anybody speak the language that reads between the lines?

will
any
one of
you
show
me
a
good
time?

someone must not have told you the heart is a VITAL *****, not a TOY.

some say that
actions speak louder than words
yet
this smile won't be fading soon
what you wrote to me
is imprinted in my mind
cemented in the whirring thought process of my brain
i
     can
still
     see
the words painted on the inside of my eyelids
when i close my eyes
your words make
the darkness feel safe.