i will wade out
                        till my thighs are steeped in burning flowers
I will take the sun in my mouth
and leap into the ripe air
                                       Alive
                                                 with closed eyes
to dash against darkness
                                       in the sleeping curves of my body
Shall enter fingers of smooth mastery
with chasteness of sea-girls
                                            Will i complete the mystery
                                            of my flesh
I will rise
               After a thousand years
lipping
flowers
             And set my teeth in the silver of the moon

To miss you,
It is not a choice or an option.

It is a fate that was dictated on me,
For you my love.

My affection for you is intense,
And strengthen by our love bonds.

Connected through your heavenly heart,
That trembles me all the way up to bottom.

Oh how I have longed
To lose my baby fat
I did not realise
My face was so angular underneath

Some things cannot be helped:
natural disasters,
"that time of the month"
(which is widely considered a natural disaster),
chocolate cravings,
sleeping,
going to the bathroom,
flatulence,
cracking joints,
growing old,
being young,
body hair,
and

feelings.

Mostly feelings.

We're human.
They're allowed.
Have some, won't you?

you always said I lived right beneath your collar bone
straight above your heart,
not in it but over it
I was only the supporting weight of one of your shoulders  
I think I forgot to tell you that you were both of mine
but I also feel you missing right at the center of myself
I let you take up too much space

Maybe you replaced me by now
you're whispering your secrets to some other girl
or boy
at any rate someone who isn't me
or maybe you just put in a slab of iron in
I wouldn't blame you
it would be much easier to deal with than I am

is it even socially acceptable to cry in the shower over someone who hasn't contacted you in three weeks?
Is that okay?
I think I'll do it anyway
The worst endings are the slow ones
that drag out for weeks or months or years
the ones that leave you wondering how one person can leave your life without a trace
I would do anything to breathe the dust of your skin again
you didn't even leave me that much

I miss you
the way that you feel deep within yourself
I told you that once
I don't remember what you said
but it wasn't what I wanted to hear

I love you
and not the kind you think
the kind that makes me smile at your voice
and the kind that makes me feel safe in your presence
the kind that makes me want to sit next to you in silence and listen to you breathe
I love you as a human
and don't get me wrong
kissing you was great
but I would take it all back
just to have you here
not with me
but next to me

It gets heavy all alone

My own apathy terrifies me.

How much do I care?
Not enough.
How much do I care?
Not enough.
How much do I care?
Not enough.


And the worst part is
That measurement isn't borrowed
It comes from my own jug but when I wasn't looking
Someone poured out all the motivation and compassion.

I had a dream my mother was dying
I woke up with overflowing eyes
Not because I was sad
But because in the dream I didn't care and I knew I was supposed to.

I broke my brother's arm by launching him into the air and
Forgetting that he had only his own
Fragile body to land on top of no that's a lie
I didn't forget but I though he broke his neck
And when the siren started blaring
I knew that wasn't it and
I didn't feel so sad anymore.

Don't get the wrong idea
I'm not a completely cold-hearted *****.

This I know because I cry watching Anastasia
Every
*******
Time
I donate to charity
And don't let them give me the sticker to prove it
I love small children and animals! That's a lie
I've had to clean up ***** from both of those groups.

And I've never made myself throw up but sometimes
I forget to eat that's a lie
I just can't be bothered
Am I lethargic because that's typical of a teenager
Or am I
Only classed as typical teenager because I'm lethargic?

I lie on my bed as still as a corpse
And never once
Think about death because
Why does it matter?

That's the only question
He doesn't have an answer to
Because I swear
This boy is the second coming of
Socrates
He makes me think of
Shakespeare
And knowing i'm going to see him the next day is like waiting for
Santa Claus.

My own empathy terrifies me.

How much do I care?
Too much.
How much do I care?
Too much.
How much do I care?
Too much.


And the worst part is
The possibility
That he might care about me too.