Mother
was the first
to steal
my innocence

Death
will be my last
silent cry
to regain
my purity

I might’ve inhaled her scent
when we were making our
soon to be last goodbyes

Her scent filled my lungs
So I held my breath
and counted to ten

Countless tens,
I lost track

Suffocated,
I inhaled the smoke

Broken,
I buried what she felt like

Abandoned,
I exhaled her out of me

When breathing felt
the same as drowning—

and I’ve drowned myself once

—I gasped for her scent
with each breath I took

There used to be butterflies
living inside my chest,

but they turned into bats
when it got dark

The bats fed on my blood,
and my chest was their cave

There used to be orchids
blooming,
flourishing,
above my ears and to my short hair

But now I am dead,
the weeping orchid bled

As it withered upon my grave,
and emitted the scent of death and I

Its decayed petals dropped,
like blood from cut veins

The corpse flower,
scentless bloom of death belongs

A knife
caressing my thighs
to my wrists

A chemical mixture
swallowed down
with a drink

A lover
you’ve never tasted

I looked up at
the starry sky

A lone dying star
has greeted me,

and I promised that
I will see her soon

I cannot utter what
is bothering my soul

Perhaps it is the fire
of my own mind  

The same fire that
kept me warm was
the one to burn me

Or perhaps it is the
unbearable weight of
my sleepless eyelids

The feeling
of a hot blade
on my wrist

How gentle is
its sharpness
How soothing is
the stinging pain

Sometimes that’s the
only way I could
remind myself; that
this body of mine,
or at least parts of it
still want to heal

I welcomed madness
with open wrists

I spent my nights
alone
without loneliness

I waited for you
with a longing-pain

I wanted my soul
to be laced with yours,

but your soul
doesn’t yearn for mine

I spoke with
your heavy eyelids, and
its darkness pulled me in
to find my missing path

I asked the tear
as it sheds from
your eyes to touch
the curves of your face,
if I’m welcome in your heart

Can you handle my foreign heart,
or would you abandon it for another refuge?

What is it that pains you?
Is it the never-ending nights,
or do you long for death, like I do

Is the unbearable weight
of existence a burden to you,
and how can I ease it?

All I ask is,
will I ever be welcome
in your heart

In a dream
I drank the color
of your eyes,
and swallowed
the tone
of your voice

It is seven
in the morning,
where I wage a war
against myself

It ends only when
I take the pill

As a bullet
lodged in my mouth,
and I was the one
to pull the trigger

I am the architect of
my own destruction

I’ve survived
a dozen of wars,
and came back alive

Wounded
but alive