I have yet to find a word that describes the beauty in which an object unravels.
There is, however, infinite words to express the madness one must possess in order to fall in love with destruction.

I do not know why the ruins of hearts I've never known stain my hands like the tar from a fire I never set,
Or why I feel like an arsonist everytime I try to wash the ashes from my fingers,
But I do know that I have said more prayers for the chaotic than for the sick.
I know that while the English language has yet to supply me with a single word to sum up why I find hope in endings,
I can describe in detail the way the walls of my bedroom burn like they are being ravaged by the flames of my psyche,
And how I have never felt more at home than when everything is crumpling around me. 

When I try to explain that I have never felt safer than when my ribs were tearing in two,
Please do not deem me insane.
As if the concept of the deterioration of my own brain has not fascinated me since the first time "we're all mad here" snaked it's way through my consciousness.
I am a white rabbit,
Setting my pocket watch ten minutes fast,
Just to see who will run with me.
Digging holes in my skin,
Hoping someone will fall through.
And if I am mad,
Then you must be too,
For we are all just spilled ink,
Dying to turn blue.

The sky is electric blue
And though it's getting lighter,
It feels like it's getting dimmer.

I can't remember what I said to you the last time we spoke,
But I remember the way your sky blue eyes contrasted my own
which were stained red with rage.
I had never seen you angry and I think that's why I hated you.
Because you were everything I wanted to be but couldn't.
I wanted you to despise me,
Because you were perfect and I was inconceivably flawed,
And the thought of something so pure admiring my tainted soul tasted like shards.
I wanted to crack your glass eyes,
Slit my wrists with the remnants,
Make you understand what happens when you give your heart to someone who doesn't want it.
and though I didn't want you I needed you.
And I know that's a cliche,
But that writer you made me love embraced his so why shouldn't I embrace
Ours?

The trees are black against the now pale sky,
Their silhouettes look the way the tiger stripes of your irises did,
The way your faded scars did against your olive branch skin .
And goddamit why did you have to ruin the sky too?
I'm sick of everything becoming yours
You told me to stop giving myself away to everyone but you just keep taking
Take.
Take it all. 
I don't want it without you.
The electrons in the clouds are sleeping again
They're too tired to keep shocking me with images of your now permanently closed eyes .
And I can't help but wonder if when they sealed your eyes shut
If you were relieved because you had grown tired of trying to light up my permanently dark sky.

I will not be my parents.


For every negative comment they exchange,
I will have something positive to say.
For every door that slams,
I will hold one open.

I will not let myself bring unhappiness to the table, then wonder why supper is so bitter.

When I was little
I fell off the monkey bars
and scraped my knee
Instead of running off to the swings
I got back up there
and I held on to each rung
so tightly
I had blisters in my palms
but when I got to the end I felt breathless
and maybe that's where it started.

When I began driving
I would grasp the wheel
so tightly
as if the more pressure I applied,
the better I could steer.
I always got perfect scores
on my driving tests
but my fingers ached
when I finally had it in park.

I've been clinging
to the remnants of a friendship
that I tripped into
and I didn't try to get back up
or strive for perfection
because I liked it the way it was
and I keep smiling while you walk away
but I can't wave
Because you broke my wrist
when you pulled away
but I don't think
that's all that's
Broken.

You planted flowers in my lungs and
waited around until they were fully
blossomed before you picked them
one by one and wrapped them up
in a bouquet to give to someone else.