when all i see is my darkness
pitch black and uninviting,
you see shining stars,
and moon-lit clouds with
silver linings.

i can't wait to cuddle with
you at a coffee shop,
on a bench,
with the smell of coffee beans,
and you,
blending into a gentle symphony.

i'd have a mint latte,
and maybe we could share,
and i'll say something stupid
like thank you for the day.
or i really like you.
instead of
freaking kiss me, okay?

then you could walk me
home, my heart
dancing on the way.

i want to sew this date onto my
heart for ever,
because that's when you,
so careful and so nervous,
told me how you feel about me.

They say the touch of another can heal; so
how come when you touch me i'm still
unsatisfied, still craving more.

Every time you touch me it leaves me in an
unholy mess. For your touch is poison , but I
—can't get enough of it.

i'm constantly reminded
of the love i tried to coax
from a blade.

it reminded me
that i was real.

that no matter how empty
i felt,
i could still feel something.

i got more love from a razor blade
from broken glass
shattered cds
(anything sharp as his wits)

than i ever got from him

and yet somehow,
i'm still clean?

maybe because both of the loves
weren't real.
no matter how alive
they made me feel.

sometimes i think about you,
and i want to cry until i drown
in self pity and salty tears.