˚　　˚　.　.　　✦　　　.　　. 　 ˚　.　　　　　 . ✦　　　 　˚　　　　　
.　　. 　 ˚　.　. 　 ˚　.　　 . ✦


Exaggerating just to feel something.
Anything, anything -
everything.

I don't want to be just another crack in your ceiling - another unresolved feeling.
Let's just stay a little bit longer -

The smoke. The water. The light.
I'm slipping through every little bit of you.

Can I be your everything, everything,
anything?



˚　　˚　.　.　　✦　　　.　　. 　 ˚　.　　　　　 . ✦　　　 　˚　　　　　
.　　. 　 ˚　.　. 　 ˚　.　　 . ✦

I’d be stupid to say it’s all in my head.
There’s so much we’ll leave unsaid.

The thing is it’s not always like that.
Okay well. Maybe a little.
But that’s not the point.
It’s always been like that right from the start.  

I’ll show you mine,
If you show me yours,

I’m not even going to try to pretend.
It’s all in my head.

Your lips were like honey dripping down my thighs.
A rose petal touch all down my spine.
But i never was a fan of honey —
and roses have thorns sharper than words.

i wish i could create something that would make you proud
anything good enough

but i know nothing could ever be good enough for you

i learned it from you first
i will never be good enough
not for anyone
and never myself

i’m probably self-sabotaging [again]
after all it’s not like i’m capable of trust anymore.
i’m practically always looking for something,
anything, to prove me right.

what if i am actually right?
what then?

do i just keep letting myself
                                                   fall
                                                   straight
                                                   down?

even if the crash will b r ea k my bones?
i already know it’s what i’d do.

crack. splinter. shatter.
grind me to dust.



does it really even matter?

i am not thankful for my trauma.

my trauma did not make me a stronger,
better person.
my trauma put me into a constant state of fear.
my trauma made it impossible for me to feel secure.
my trauma told me i was unlovable and made me think maybe i was a bad person.
my trauma doesn’t let me rest.
my trauma will never stop following me.

my trauma did not make me stronger.
it made me weak and terrified of vulnerability.

so stop telling me how strong i am for overcoming things i never should’ve had to.
i don’t want to be strong,
i want to be able to feel my emotions,
i want to be able to be vulnerable, without fear.

i want to be unapologetically me again.
i miss what’s dead in me

Words are my best friend;

They do not ask me to mold myself into a perfect little doll.
They accept me for the person I was, I am, and I will be.
They do not disappear when I need them most;
in fact they support me like no one else could.

Words were all I had when I was left all alone.

Words will always be my best friend.