god i was so young
i'm looking back on old photos
and there's a glint in my eye i didn't notice
a small hope that you felt the same way
you'd break my heart but only briefly
always at your beck and call
my hair was vibrant and purple
and too many freckles to count
i don't pine for you anymore
just old me and the time we lost

when i was younger i used to believe
that every one is good or bad
no in between
catholic upbringing, you know the drill
now as i grow i realize
the lines are a lot more blurred than when first perceived
and sometimes it's good to be bad

it starts with setting plates down
just enough force to make a sound
then it goes to talking
with less filter then usual
the worst is the silence
my mind can do more damage then you ever could
and you let it reign free
your gaze blank
yet somehow piercing
dread building

i like the danger of hard boiled sweets
something so sweet and innocent
has the capability to cease my breathing
and turn me violet
i'm too old to cut myself
or cry in the teachers office when i feel blue
so i **** these sweets
and hope i choke

autumn smiles at me through his dusted glasses
and he offers me a warm yet calloused hand.
we dance together, slow and close.
he's old now, worn away by time
the crows feet and laugh lines reveal this
yet he still holds me gently.
he's not harsh or rough like summer
who forces me to tango
nor cold or distant like spring
who doesn't dance at all.
i trust him to keep me safe
i'm bruised and aged from summer
he knows this, i believe
he only stays a short while
but i know i'll see him again

two spoonfuls and a dash of honey
it changes but its this for now
my only dependency
and it isn't even sentient

i have rough days quite frequently
and it's nice to come home to the bitter
yet homely taste

is it a need to self destruct
or to just hurt others
i struggle to pinpoint
all i know is the moment i start feeling safe
that's when it needs to end