old routines are still familiar
like church services every Sunday morning
praise team practice early
the warm sun walking through the parking lot on me
and afterwards getting out as fast as I can
I just hated the lingering
but I was on that stage every Sunday singing
if I could move the elderly in the front rows
my ego was pleased
let's worship jesus on our knees
I never did bend down

this armor is becoming quite heavy
my flesh is rusted chainmail that cuts me
from your view I'm a stormy sea
but I'm calm on the other side of me

Love me not
I’d rather rot

misguided intentions
prevent a moment to pause & think
are you really that interested
or is it an artsy girl kink

because I want to be (and am) more
than a bucket list ****
I've got plenty of loose stitching
and strings of bad luck

intimidating to most,
while intimidated the least
I want my own ******* cake
with a five course feast

easy to romanticize
even harder to shake off
but the easiest to leave
when I've always been a mirage

I want plenty,
and nothing .
I need no one,
and loving.

you told me it's like
i have sparks in my head
i told you i liked
the way i felt in your bed
but choices are choices
and they're mine alone
it's not about feeling small comforts
it's about feeling at home

toxic fumes exuding neater
chapped lips and sterling silver
my love is a broken heater
frosted tips on a heart breaker
balancing ledges over trenches on a gold digger
lighting the match but not pulling the trigger
so get into the depths of it if you're thirsty
I'm on the opposite end of the first me
but lessons aren't always learned pretty...
then in comes symmetry, deja vu city
the mirror glass keeps getting *****
golden hour rear window views are blinding
lost in nostalgic melodies while crying
it's all so overwhelming sometimes...
but I love the melancholy;
if I could, I'd mix it right in to my coffee
I want to re-learn a little vulnerability,
but that always tastes bittersweet