Holding his hand was like a prayer
and when we kissed I finally saw God
but no amount of getting on my knees could stop Hell from clutching it's burning hands to my throat and no volume of screaming could lead to my salvation.

I tell myself it must have been the devil telling him to love her
instead of me,  
but that won't change the fact that you never were my Heaven.

You may not have been birthed in the soil,
and granted,
you will not blossom
when spring melts winters wake
but inside of you
grows a thousand gardens
full of exploding stars.
You are of the earth
and your ashes
have been constructed with stardust,
and set free with the wind.
So you may not have a pretty face,
and your body may hold stories
of too many moonless nights alone.
But if you reach inside,
you will find a forest
for a ribcage
and a restless ocean heart.
So don't ever let anyone tell you
you are nothing.
You are a galaxy
holding a million different planets,
and my dear,
that is not nothing.

You told me I reminded you of a painting you once saw.
Acrylic strokes, not able to spot a single flaw.
You described
every crevice,
every edge,
every brush of colour.
I pictured a girls eyes gleaming as bright as the summer.
Shaking your head you told me to search.
Deep down you said there's more to her.
An ocean of stories having yet to be told;
a heart is the one thing that never grows old.
You went on about her left eyebrow
and the creases in her lips.
How lost she sometimes looks,
and the placement of her hips.
Imagine a girl only loved by some,
people only notice little things about her,
like the way she twiddles her thumbs.
Look at the way her collarbone curves,
I smile,
your voice telling me to give it the appreciation it deserves.

He drank and continuously created
white clouds,
Though he was withering he was beautiful.
He resembled a browning oak tree; leaves
slowly drifting in the wind.
Leaving the tree **** as nothing but a frame.
My darling, for you it was time, and winter came.
Squashing the burning tip beneath his shoe,
And mumbling the forsaken words,

I love you.

Hair a mess, and pinching the silk of my dress;
let's sit in a field and I'll pull at your hair.
I ask you if it hurts, but you don't seem to care.
The last time the air was clear back in
November, I tell you all the time but you
don't seem to remember,
How important you are
Now engraved in my bones.
When you're not with me I feel so alone.
Cheeks as white as the frosting of a
buttercream flower.
Lips dried, lungs died.
Over your pit I cower;  calloused fingers against stone.
Christ, I should've known. Just know you'll  forever,
my home.