"love-sick"
I mean
I suppose love is a disease.

there are the symptoms,
the racing heart
constant thoughts,
and if your a writer
countless poems dedicated to them
or your love.

I suppose love is a disease
but if its you,
its not one I would mine
having.

it's quite a challenge for me
to look in the mirror and not point out
all the things about my body
I wish to change.

the first thing I see are my imperfections
and I wonder what kind of peace
what kind of universe
could exist where I don't feel this way.

Probably one
with no mirrors.

I sit at the edge of my window
In this broken home with broken people
With my ink and this tear-stained notebook
Full to the brim with fragments of a dying girl.

I create a universe in which my happiness
is not as nonexistent as the cure to cancer
I will write a different life into existence,

One where this flesh doesn't feel like a prison
and my own soul doesn’t feel like a forgotten memory;
A ghost of something that was,
That probably still could be.

and in that life,
I shall exist forever
away from you
and them
out of this body
out of this world.