no amount of painted
lips       and     dusted
cheeks will make  him
    fall     for      you

you make me

cut-open-my-chest-and-rip-out-my-still-beating-heart

crazy

Sometimes I wonder if people can look into my eyes and see the great amount of deep and everlasting sorrow inside.

I know
I love you
because I can
touch your
feet
without
being
creeped out

i guess to you, I'm just some girl you try on for size when you feel like having a taste of something different

and doesn't he make you feel special,
the way he wraps his arms around your waist,

too bad that feeling is wasted
and anything but special

I'm sorry your soul calls to mine like the wind through the trees, gently whistling my name as you pass by

I wonder sometimes what
you think of me

if i'm crazy or beautiful
is it one or the other?

"poor little rich girl,
with her pretty face,
her well-off parents,
her mental illness,
and all the *****, drugs and hair dye she wants.

you'll
be
fine"

the lump in my throat grew,
pulsating,
larger,
and larger,
i feared i would choke to death
on the internalisation
of my own emotions.

I want to reach inside you

I want to

touch the

darkest parts of your soul

never dull yourself so that someone will blindly fall for you. you're iridescent and anything less just isn't you.