I excel
at the sport
of
fal
(in love)
ling

when i'm bored
i look at the raised
white lines tracked across
my arms and imagine
tearing them open
letting the heat gather at the base
of my throat (and)
the red stain my bones.

should i let them be scars
and pretend i'm not still ******
and open ?
besides, i miss the pain.

i never believed the stories about the butterflies, until my belly swarmed with them.

it's been ages since i've felt like this.
he makes me laugh, and i can feel every quart of my blood rush and pound through me. my heart feels like it's losing its balance and falling to my toes, lighting every part of me on fire on the way down.
i am like a dandelion in a rainstorm, my seeds ready to be torn and thrown to places i will never find. i want to stop everything, pause the world and yell into the silence.
i need to talk myself out of this. i need to tell myself that there's nothing for me here and all i could be is hurt.
it's a maddening thing, to have yourself completely pulled apart by a single human. tell me how to put myself back together.