“i love your neck,” he whispers as his hand curls around the pale flesh delicately. careful not to bruise in places easily seen.
      “i love your neck,” he whispers kissing the bruises he left behind. red, purple, yellow decorating it like a necklace.
      “i love your neck,” he says gripping it tightly as he thrusts deeper in your body. your breath is caught in your throat, you struggle to breathe.
      “i love your neck,” he says pushing you against the wall- bruises are a normal sight, it doesn’t scare you anymore, not to breathe.
     “i love your neck” he says as he leads you to the scaffold. you think of the blade at your neck and wonder if it loves yours too.

If my father could see me now
I hope that he would be disappointed in me.
It would be easier than knowing
I can make out a man underneath the smoke,
underneath the mountain of ash left on a burning man’s face.
It would be easier to hold water in my hands than accept
that his love would burn me to ash too

always shining bright,
never frowning or ill at ease,
never letting me down,
and i never thanked you

If loneliness is a memory that tastes like
cigarette smoke and *** soaked ash
I have lived it a thousand times.
If the endless nothingness of being lonely swallows me again and again,
like waves on a beach,
Leaving me to drown again and again-
Leaving me gasping for breath in a moment of mercy.
If loneliness tastes like getting caught in a thunderstorm in an unfamiliar place
And there is no one to comfort you,
Then I have been left in the cold for what feels like an eternity

it's 3 am again;
and you're still not here.

darling,
anything for you i would
keep trying to make your shine known
out of all of us, i
toast to you as i raise my glass,
and you’ll be amazing

four things to know he's in love with you.
1.) he looks at you as if you're the sun.
2.) he will follow you anywhere.
3.) he will love you too much to let go.
4.) he will want you to be the last thing he see's before he goes to sleep

four things to know he's in love with you.
1.) he looks at you as if you're the sun- you're the centre of his universe and oh so beautiful.
2.) he will follow you everywhere- you wished he would stay away just this once
3.) he will love you too much to let go- you don't want him to let go.
4.) he will want you to the last thing he sees- you will be, before the water lulls him to sleep

medusa stands proud.
happy and proud and peace filled.
sisters in arms held for worship,
sisters in arms disappeared from grasp.

medusa stands small.
hurt and small and shame filled.
maidenhood stolen and high priestess to athena no more,
maidenhood stolen and cursed with protection.

medusa stands weary.
cold and weary and anger filled.
isolation has become her paradise of silence and stone,
isolation has become her graveyard of silence.

medusa stands tired.
worn and tired and sorrow filled.
awaiting the blow to her neck by perseus' sword,
awaiting the blow to end her suffering.

if my body is a heavenly temple,
i pray that you kneel before me in worship

A faint moment of serenity,
kisses that stain hands in worship,
of feathers light bliss,
using sinful touch as words,
singing praises and gospels
almost missing your wicked smile

i remember the taste of metal in my mouth,
the warmth and the pain of
turning my fiery words
into mountains of ash
years of biting my tongue,
wanting to scream,
yet the smoke chokes my lungs

the silence is deafening
the silence is deafening
the silence is deafening
the silence is deafening
the silence is deafening
the silence is deafening
the silence is deafening
the silence is deafening
the silence is deafening
the silence is deafening

the months i lost my voice became a pattern of days filled with dreamless sleep and nights wishing for nicotine stained fingers and red lipstick kissed cups.

i held words on the tip of my tongue, fading into smoke the second they escaped the bitter confines of water drowned inked pages.

the months i lost my voice the nights seemed quiet, frozen in time as my eyes were blinded with the aching only poets can ache.

i held back words that came out in sounds and tears, screaming shouting, the sounds of glass breaking from inside a soundproofed room with only madness for company.

the months i lost my voice, my mind became a boat in an ocean of words, and the days gone in the blink of an eye.

i can count the number of times
i felt like killing myself
on both my hands, feet,
on all of my bones with my eyes shut.
i could tell you details,
how, when, why,
but change my answer each time-
i could count those times on both hands.

i could tell you of the days i think of
fireflies in the summer
and snowfall in january,
how both disappear after time,
yet i can remember the images
so clearly, so vividly.
i could count those times on both hands.

if you asked me to share
the number of times i felt like killing myself
you’d be waiting for months, years even.
maybe sooner,
as you might be reading my note,
with them all included.

go away,
sleep just take me
well gosh dang it
i’m done,
gone,
****,
disappearing,
vanished,
out of here.
                  ( ***** you brain)
— sleep calls with overactive brains // a.

i am haunted by a ghost
who calls my name,
who whispers in the wind
and runs in my shadow.
i know her, i know her well.
she was everything i could’ve been,
and everything i lost

the scars on my skin bleed red;
the burn of my flesh
from scratches meant to
rip apart the pieces of my skin
stained from your touch.
i tore myself apart,
hoping,
praying,
you would still find me beautiful
even with my scars.

"come back” i whisper.
"come back” i say.
"come back” you hear.
"come back” i plead.
"please, come back”

they say all lovers die twice;
once when they die separate,
the second when they'll forgotten-
and their story along with them.

maybe i miss the butterflies.
maybe i miss the warmth.
maybe i miss your hands in my hair
or the moment time stands still.
maybe i miss the fragility.
maybe i miss the late night talks.
maybe i miss your lips on mine
or the moments of peaceful silence.
maybe i miss the time.
maybe i miss the what if’s
or the what could’ve beens
or maybe i miss the idea of you.

its a tragedy, you know.
that he looks at you as if he's the sun
and you still burn him,
sending him with wax coated wings
beneath the seas.

no one tells you when
loving someone becomes too much ;
it seethes.
it waits.
it blooms.
and sometimes it rages,
and sometimes it ends.

light shrouded in darkness,
even you couldn’t help it
never once fitting in or sticking out,
always one with the light

whisper sweet nothings in the dark
with your hand
wrapped delicately around my throat

I used to sit around and wonder:
where did I lose myself?
where did I go?  


Now I look in the
mirror and realize,
I was never really there in the first place.

— the mirror keeps staring back at me // a.

my body’s missing pieces,
and i don’t know
how to fix it,
or fill it
without your embrace.

death,
my friend,
comes for us all in the end.

every day is a new adventure with you,
voicing our thoughts
as the weight of the world closes in.

midnight talks and kitchen dance battles,
a hopeless type of gal,
red roses,
i loved you
and you’ll never know how much

we live as star-crossed lovers do,
patiently, seething, waiting,
wondering if we’re a tragedy
like boys to suns or
gods to mortals,
doomed to part only to die second
or worse, we live in the end.

you burned like a star
they whispered,
terror and awe laced in their words

you burned so suddenly, so bright
everyone but the sun had to look away
the sun stared down as
the burning boy fell underneath the water-
blue hands reaching up to catch him.

stars burn out too fast
they speak,
indifference and pity colour their words.

your shadow, i found,
was still clearer then your face.

you’ve become nothing
but fire and wax and regrets.
you’ve become a cautionary tale,
a warning of loving too much too fast
you’ve become a memory
in a long list of lovers, of tragedies

you’ve become nothing
but ash and feathers and bone,
you’ve become a story,
a tale of boys who fell for suns
you’ve become a glimpse,
a moment of clarity that ends all too soon

with your sin stained touch,
unholy scriptures,
and whispered prayers
falling from your wicked tongue,
sometimes i wonder if we’re
truly of the ******,
disgraced in the eyes of the lord,
or if the lord revels in our unholiness

with a heavy heart the sun watches the boy with broken wings fall further away from him.
“i loved him,” the sun says watching him fade underneath the waves.
“i loved him first” the sea answer back

You are touch starved
hunger pained,
steel-toed mess
of sun kissed hair and
poison kissed lips
you are my everything and
nothing


— for I love all these parts of you that others do not see // a.

i had so much to
say to you,
but the words die
on my lips.

i had so much to
give to you,
but there’s no more to
give away.

i had so much to
look forward with you,
but there’s only regrets
in my heart.

Your scent lingers on your shirts
and your words still taint my skin
your memory still eats away at me,
slowly but surely
i get rid of you
you become a ghost
i let you fade
until you’re nothing.  
                       ( just like you told me. )

— karma’s a ***** has so am i // a.

i sometimes imagine
boys with sunburnt skin falling
into saltwater seas
with laughter on their lips

the days seem colder without you,
i guess you’re a memory
that will never fade,
your touch hollows me out
and leaves me cold and sore

the gentle hands that wrap around my throat,
the decorative jewels of bruises,
the pale flesh that inspired poetry,
kissed by the silver blade
as i kneel in the scaffold

if you asked me the moment
icarus felt like tragedy and poetry,
i would laugh and say he knew,
that boys who love suns are already tragedy,
but seas who love boys are poetry,
because love is a double edged sword
and the moment of clarity ends all too soon.