you think only of yourself
told me we were on the same team
now my silence is my self defense
because it's better not to speak
I refuse to think that's weak
I'm protecting what's mine

While you were looking for more of my skin
to trace your calloused fingers across,
I was still looking for a way to let you back in
after shutting down and pushing you out;
I spent an eternity wandering the hallways of my mind on your couch.
And I don't want it to be difficult; I know it's going to be sometimes
it's been weeks now, and you're all that's been on my mind.
And I know you feel that way, too.
I'm scared of losing my breath, of my lips turning blue;
Because I want to be able to talk to you,
but I still wonder if you'll be able to hear
all the music in my aura that plays so clear...
I feel the vibrations all the time,
soundwaves on repeat in my mind,
I think they'll harmonize with yours if we let them...
I want you to really see me for who I am,
and I know there's a chance you could,
but I'm scared of being disappointed,
I'm scared of being misunderstood.
So tread lightly as you're running through my mind,
please be careful in any of my darkness you find.
If you discover yourself hearing my aura's music play,
the melody will double as lanterns to light your way.
The walls are always building, the halls are ever turning
you've just gotta want to keep exploring.
I hope you want to keep going

My voice may get shakey
whenever I cry or when I sing,
but I take my photographs steadily,
and make them really mean something.
There's confessions in everything;
in my memories, in my bones,
in my poetry, in my songs
on the gravel roads where I meet god...
I can't look at anything without seeing expression
and I can't remember living without my depression
So what happens when there's peace?
There's a certain discomfort in that space
There's art everywhere and I want to swim in it
but I'm so often being rushed away in the current...
sinking at sea until the water is no longer blue
I keep forgetting you can't go around,
you always gotta go through...
And while I might be feeling a loss,
while I might be feeling lonely,
I've got plenty of things that I consider as wealth,
none of them being money.
So I'm gonna wipe away my tears
I'm gonna continue to sing
and there's gonna be nothing that stops me
from seeing art in everything.

My trauma isn't based in arguments of woman vs man,
It's patterns vs observation;
Post-traumatic self-preservation.
Giving explanations to my hesitation
is a sign of my thirst for consolation,
not an invitation to argue my trauma into rehabilitation
when you don't have all the information...
My heart sleeps every night under a deep rooted tree formation
that shades over all of my humiliation and devastation.
I may be miles away from where I first experienced my trust's suffocation,
I just need to rest here for a little while longer...
The sun is healing and always comes out eventually,
but I can't heal from any light that's cast artificially.
While destruction to my foundation eventually brings creation,
that which is planted can not sprout without germination...
I'm still waiting for my seed's coat to rupture
so I can spread my roots into the earth and learn to trust her.
I'm rebuilding the burned down home that housed my trust in men,
I'm laying bricks down every day until I can believe again....
That I'm not in danger anymore.
That I can move my body away from the door I've been barricaded against,
long before the break in, and ever since.
Because the punches just kept coming;
It was never raining, it was always pouring.
And I'm still floating in those wells that are shaded deeply under trees.
It's not a challenge for you to find a resolve to...
I'm not looking to argue.
I just want you to believe that I'm trying every day,
that I'm not stubborn in my ways...
I'm finding a way out of the darkness; I'm finding a way to feel safe.
I'm always looking for the light.

tell me again about how you're living life different
about your rose colored cheeks and swimming against the current
you've got me filled with artificial intensity
while you're leaking out your acidic hypocrisy

Scrolling my phone mindlessly
breezing past a selfie from someone in a bar
on the windowsills I used to sit...
I don't necessarily miss it;
but there's melancholy for the memories,
the smell of cigarettes on my fingertips,
and ***** soaking my worries...
tonight it feels like that could be nice,
cause I haven't been able to sleep for days...
been having nightmares every time I do;
and everything I write just feels redundant
but I've got so much I wanna say...
summer makes me feel more lonely
than when I'm under winter skies,
got so many parts of myself I don't recognize...
but every street has a memory,
and I'm just trying to move on
where bartenders once memorized my drinks,
they now probably wouldn't remember my name....
quit smoking **** in the spring
I'm spending money recklessly
******* myself over royally
I just wanna feel something good

Aurora borealis skies
bruises on my thighs
high fidelity type of ****
sharing the same color palette
I never get tired
of looking at those hues
but only when I'm looking up,
or directly at you
cause I'll ignore all the colors
when looking down on my own pores
unless I put it there deliberately with a brush
covering my sores
by mimicking the stars
with glitter crush
I could have stayed under that sky all night
to try and spin myself a thread made out of the light
because I've got a deep desire
to stitch that borealis glow right into my scars
to make that sparkle become my seams
to produce tones that replace muscle memory screams
Yet all the same,
the struggles teach something
and it's that these scars
are a requisite to growing
and bravery seeps out when I leave them showing
because there's a glow in melancholy
and sometimes, in metaphorically burst veins
because when art comes from tragedy
there's a glow in pain

That never needed stitching