you are the bee
in my garden
i let you sting
my honey nectar
now i drip with
sugary words
dripping in my stem
your hunger
triggers my thirst
so you **** until
my last petal falls

suddenly all of the pens i own
are either gone,
empty,
broken,
or left alone
no amount of penniless pettiness
came from my mouth,
no mutters,
sobs,
nor silence left
to give,
forgive the narratives,
which lingers
inching
the tip
of thy fingers,
that holds restless
itching
to scab and release
what remains
in scars
the pus which ferments
on hatred and
the scent
burning cocoa beans and smoke
that knocks on my eyes
a blurry vision
despite
rose-tainted glasses,
the taste
of bitterness
in farewell.

it was dreadful
terrible.
     almost exhilarating even.
                  you look so downtrodden
   wet.
         offshore.
                   pitiful.
                             how does it feel
to be so far pressed face down?
               teardrops dragging down your
     hair pulling down
            your head.
                             when did you get
        so drenched?
                   so stupid
enough
                to cry for him?
    seeing that
              it is the only thing
  you seem useful for
                                   for him.
           if you want to be his toy—
                         sorry.
you're already a broken one.
                                        soaked in
                beer
and
            tequila
       and
                     ***
                                  and
               diet coke
                         and
                                        puke
        for perfume
                    and yet you smell
more like
                               instant noodles
             and glass shards
on your wrist
                          with your back
       on the same wall as yesterday
       the same wall as the day before that
       the same wall as the day even before
       the same wall that watched you cry
earlier today
             yesterday
                        last week
                               the week before that
       and the day he left you
                 this time
and that one time last month
          and that time during valentines
               and another just after new year's.
i bet even the wall is so ****
      sick of
                  watching you cry for him.
   but i never will.
             'i'm sorry but'
                        'i will always be'
       'here for you'
                   i whisper as if you
     really could hear me speak.
            as if you ever did listen.
               'thanks for being a good friend'
you spoke almost inaudibly
         as if you really replied
                        hearing your
     phone suddenly
              rings to the sound of
         your favorite song
   heartbreak girl by 5sos
                     and you so easily understood.
       between your only two contacts
               me and him
of course you'd run towards him
            the moment he calls
    leaving me behind.
                       i get it.
         it's just a little sad
i didn't get to tell you
                 to call me
       the next time he breaks your heart...
   after all,
                 you exist to make him happy
and i exist only to see you cry.

Cry for the people who were never given a chance to shed a single tear.

it was all my fault
          you were drenched in crimson
you just laid there
motionless
not a single
strand of your
snow white hair
left unpainted
with red—
     so still
  so pitiful
            so unnerving
so remorseful
         so convenient
                and so **** sad
      that you're still bleeding.
             clutching to
                  what's left
of your poor
          masochistic breath
                         as if
                 you're too sure
     that this time
              i'll hear you out...
   why won't you be?
          i was so sure
                  you'd be shouting it out
       anyway.    
just
like
how
you
scream
             'go to hell'
    or
           'go **** yourself'
                         or
  'die now please'
                                            or
        'you look like a taxi in that suit'
              or
                      'i hate you'
         or
                                          'i love you'
                  you'd scream everything.
    always.
                  like when you said
         'i'll always be there for you'
   and
          'i hope you never come back'
                           when you were hurt
                 you'd shout curses
                      like a prayer
      when you were drunk
   you'd screech songs
             like a drifting car.
                   but right then
                                      you whispered.
         and you whispered so softly
   it was more unbelievable
              than the fact that
      i heard it more clealy
           more soundly
                                     than the time
                    you screamed
    'i'm done putting up with you.'
          "tell me a little lie"
                 "and tell me you'll never"
     "ever leave me this time."
              and you were so peaceful
   this one single exeptional time
          as you tried ever so
                    unsettlingly
              to catch your breath.
        i simply couldn't resist.
                  "i promise."
   "i'll never leave you."
                        "ever."
     "cross my heart and hope to die."
               but you never
          did listen did you?
it was all your fault
i'm drenched in crimson

I'm suffocating.
But I don't need your help,
I can handle my throat closing,
no don't call 911,
there's no reason to.

I'm choking.
But I don't need your help,
I can handle the mucus that blocks my throat,
I can spit it up just fine,
so just keep on walking.

I'm coughing.
But I don't need your help,
I can handle myself doubled over in pain,
with my chest hurting as I try to sit up straight,
so just ignore me hacking up a lung.

I'm breathing.
But I don't need your help,
I can handle hyperventilation without my inhaler,
I don't have to breathe properly to live,
so thanks for just leaving me on the floor.

I'm dying.
But I don't need your help,
it's not like I have no energy to get my inhaler,
you can totally just run out of the room panicking,
it's not like i'm scared too or anything.

I'm angry.
And for some reason,
you can't figure out why.
So leave me alone.
I'm fine now.
I can handle myself.
I don't need your help.

It never was my fault
   You never learned how
  To swim.

How can you blame me
       Now that you’re drowning?

If all you have
Are empty bottles
And half an empty
Can of glade...
       What is a broken heart
            In your eyes?

    Pitiful

           You don’t even have
     Broken shards
         And poisoned drops—

  So make sure
      Before you
    Start pointing
         Shaking fingers
       You know
  How to make
          A clean cut first.