Snipping the
stitches
sewn into
my heart
and letting
it all
fall apart

I had all these little
perfections
hung across my life
like fairy lights
but now they're gone
and it will take my
eyes a while
to adjust
to the dark.

It has started
occurring to me
that I rely
too much on my
muses
to give me worth.

We are
too young
and I am
too small
to start giving
bits of myself away
to be stretched and
expanded upon
by others.

I cannot
be restricted
to dependency
or limit myself
to the dead-end
streets
paved by
people with names
I forgot.

I can walk
in whichever direction
I choose
and write words
that I will not
dedicate
to you.

They say to
write what you know
but I'm just so
sick of
tragedies