Paper faces on display behind their
crumbling, flaking paper masks.
Bodies carved from fragile glass
about to shatter as they dip and dance.
Longing for a false romance
to warm and burn their paper hearts.
Kisses underneath the stars;
the fraying smoke from their cigars.

I thought I knew
But you didn't, did you?
I guess not
No, of course
My conscience told me I didn't
I did, didn't I?
It puts me down
I do?
And lifts me up
Do I?
Yet, I can't stop it
Yes you can
I am you,
And you are me,
Together as one
I suppose we are
But it goes on
And on
And on

I always wondered
What it was like
To be someone else
Until I realised
It's fine to be me
Unique, singular, interesting
Different, flowing and free
All human
All me

Broken pieces,
Warmed to melting point by kind words,
Until they could be moulded back,
To be whole again.

Metal heart,
Tied to it's past so strongly,
Touched lightly and it chimes,
As two collide.

Shaking fingers,
Too weak to press the waiting keys,
Until steadied by another's,
Caring hands.

Lost hope,
Hidden in the shadows until,
Another outshines loss,
With perfect love.

Wrinkle, crinkle, pimple,
bruise;
but our sight remains, of that,
we have nothing to lose.
Or don't we, for the
irises too;
they carry a weight
we can only hope
to be able to
endure.
And they hold, the
sights
that most would so wish to forget
And they hold, the
nights
that pain took its best
bet,
and they hold all that
I
wish to forget
but my eyes, they hold on
to the pain
and regret

but the happiness too, those
treasured few,
moments so precious
that they slip out of
reach,
but our eyes are there, holding on
to the memories

After all this time,
I didn't think,
It was possible to move on,
And in some ways it never was,
But somehow,
The weight has been lifted,

And I can breathe again,
Without despising the air in my lungs,
Without fearing words it precedes,
Without losing sight of hope.

I am free again,
To live without a pressure on my head,
To see a rope and not think neck,
To think neck and not feel it break.

And for this I know I have one thing to thank,
Without it my fingers would be pale and buried,
Not dancing across the keyboard in front of me,
Without it I would not be hearing the music,
Blasting through my headphones,
Without it I would have forgotten happiness completely.

The internet saved my life,
But more important are the people I met,
Through writing and pressing 'send',
The people who I will never forget,
I will remember to the end,
The people who no matter what,
I trust with my heart,
The people who shared every shot,
As I bled out my veins for art.

Thank you.

You are the parts of me I will never lose.

The child, she
woke up in
the middle of the night,
and felt the
air freeze
around her little height,
but what if
the thing
under the bed, it
ended up
being
all in her head

But like Dumbledore
said, does that
make it any
less real
For it being in her
head, the monster
would be
more deadly
than ever,
than real

Because she wouldn't have the power to stop it existing