I bit open a lie and it tasted like you.

The world is bathed with orange glow
sweet dreamers weave their way
as darkness wraps it's heavy shroud
around the close of day
While weary bones seek welcome rest
and lovers play their game
I'll linger here and dream of you
My sweetest secret shame.

i am delicate and i am alive
im uneasy and im one of a kind
how dare i allow just anyone into my soul?
am i wrong for not feeling as though you or him arent worthy of me?
am i wrong to be so in love with myself
to respect myself enough to allow every hair on my body grow
and not get embarrassed when my voice cracks a little when i speak about something with passion?
am i wrong to not find a flaw when i admire myself in the mirror
am i wrong to rub the tips of my fingers along my stretch marks and self harm scars with awe?
we are told to love ourselves but to a certain extent
and i say this with love behind every word
**** what you told me i love me before i love what i am suppose to or what i am told to

Little snowflake
On my palm
You look so sad
What is wrong?
You're starting to melt
Into my hand
Your unique shapes and patterns
Are turning into a mess
-Madi.S

how i long for the embrace of nothing, even less than now
i don't think i have a death wish but i definitely don't have a life wish

It's sad really.
To see the endless adventures go to waste.
To witness them lie  there never to be uncovered.
To never see the dragon vanquished or the lovers finally meet.
To forever lock the words of countless poets and philosophers.
No one will ever gain the knowledge of the written pages.
No more shall people dive into the worlds of fantasy, and escape from their own.
The shelves remain full, the stories gathering dust and mold.
Not a single person cares about the abandoned library on Chestnut Street.