i didnt know the world could be so colourful
until i met you
and now its stripped,
greyscale
empty.

i hope i find a new rainbow soon,
one that won't leave me
in a world full of clouds and fog.

and perhaps, having been raised with
skin as thin as paper was more damaging
than anything you ever said or did.
perhaps it was my own fault
that you could see every emotion through my transparent flesh,
and perhaps it was my own doing
that lead to my own heartbreak.

i want to crawl beneath my own flesh
and rip out every drop of suffering

im so very tired
and maybe once the itch is gone
ill be able to rest forevermore

the mist, the fair maiden who was once akin to a security blanket, is now swallowing me whole. shall i evaporate with her?

the smell of cigarette smoke is more comforting than you ever were

and continuing to laugh here with you,
to pretend that nothing has changed,
is like drinking a flavourless poison.
it burns, it's killing me,
but i don't want to accept the reasons why.

being in love with someone
who loves you back
can make you feel more beautiful
than almost anything.

something about this magnificent person,
who is your whole world,
viewing you in the same way you view them?

if i see you as ethereal,
my angel,
then how do you see me?

i don't think i could ever view myself as beautiful
on my own
but you make me feel more
tolerable towards myself,
and that's a feat in and of itself.

thank you for existing the way you do.

if i could speak every language the same as you, i would breathe poetry into your veins.

there are countless stories
of how suicide affected the still-living,
the still-breathing,
the still-thriving.

there are countless truly selfish tales,
choruses of “please don’t do it”
but never is there a
“i understand, and i support you regardless.”

we talk about assisted suicides
in medicine, for the elderly
and the physically ill,
so why is it that my doctor

can’t write me an rx
for a premature leave of absence?
why is it that mental illness
is always seen as simply being overdramatic?

why is it that people understand
and accept the fact that physically ill people die
but they can’t accept the fact
that mentally ill people want to stop suffering as well?

i would give just about anything
simply to protect you from myself.

Perhaps it would remain a great mystery,
What life would be like with you by my side.

You were stolen much too soon.

he is ethereal.

humans are made of stardust, this is fact, but they must be more stardust than human. he's likened often to an angel, despite his personality.

perhaps he is composed of the sun itself, fiery temperament contrasting the beauty painted across his skin with expertise. it's almost as if each and every inch of their skin shines, blinding most who dare approach.

i want to watch the way the stars dance in their eyes, like each star is a diamond sunk into the most divine and colourful resin that is his irises. i want to pluck the stars from the night sky and dust them across his blush, to give him freckles half as gorgeous as they himself is.

i want to take the big dipper and ladle the stars into his veins. he is my universe, they cradle me and care for me despite the fear he held before. i cherish him, and he cherishes me.

i am not worthy of breathing the same air as them; i am mere mortal while he is a deity amongst men. i am not worthy, yet he takes care and cradles me in their own arms as if i am everything i know him to be. if we were the greek gods, he would be aphrodite incarnate and i myself would be likened to hephaestus, though i am certain he remains loyal to our relationship.

he is the ambrosia that has the potential to poison me if i don't stop sipping, but that is a risk i am willing to take. he is every dream i've ever wanted to achieve, in fact, if i dreamed him up then they are the greatest dream i've ever had.

i truly hope that he never tires of me, for they are one of the few things i doubt i could ever live without. i find myself wondering sometimes how i made it so long without them, before i remember the person i used to be. he is a ceramist and i am a lump of fresh clay, and they continue to craft and craft and make me into a more complete version of what once was.

he has every chance to break me, to completely shatter me, yet he treats me like i am the most delicate object in the mortal plane of existence. he is so very gentle with me, as am i with them.

I want to remind someone of the sun,
of light and laughter


I want to remind someone of the weightless feeling just before sleep,
of spinning in circles so fast they get dizzy


I want to remind someone of falling in love,
not just with me,

but with life.

I want to hear the way my names sound
spilling from your lips
warm honey
dripping from your touch

I am nothing more than a collection of what others want me to be

are you in love with them or do they just bring you peace?

go, fool, be useless in your attempt to save yet another from the same demons that  plague your heart. failure is the expectation here, for it is you making such a feeble attempt.

late night drives with you, hand on my thigh as I act the part of dj, playing songs that make us feel nostalgic for a time that has yet to exist.

wait to paint sunsets and galaxies on your skin, in hopes that they'll be even a fraction as beautiful as you.

want to give you all the love you deserve, physical and mental and emotional and i want to love you so intensely your soul aches.

I think I'll go outside and look at the stars tonight. Will you look at them too?

kissing you would be bittersweet, words never said and words waiting spilling into each other.

you already are a masterpiece, love. in the louvre, amongst all of that art, I would still stare at you.

I want to hold you, to paint on you, to braid your hair. I want to whisper against your lips and I want you.

I want to fill their veins with stardust, to bring to them what they once were, to express my love in any extreme. I want to profess my undying adoration for them from the rooftops, careless about any passerby who may hear.

id rather we exist in mutually assured healing than mutually assured destruction.

weve been destroyed enough.

I want to taste all of the words you've never said.

you say that I am a sunset, all of my pictures of the sun until I thought of you were sunrises.

then I took the one. the one that was all of the vivid colours I see you as.

you are not dark and decaying, you are ethereal like the clouds hung in the sky.

much like the clouds,

you break down sometimes,

but you are still so very beautiful and deserving of love.

my favourite weather is rain, after all.

you're right, you're something more. no art museum would ever be worthy of you.

I want to show you how I see you, a work of art deserving of gentleness.

and you are poetry.

coffee and energy drinks and 3am drives and sticky kisses and one of the million playlists ive made and you and me, nothing but chasing the sunset until she goes to bed and the stars awaken.

you make the stars feel reachable.

you sang to me promises of sweet kisses in the sunshine

melodies of fingers tracing skin at 3am

ballads of a love so everlasting that the gods above should be put to shame.

you sang to me

but decided that a sunset and a star were never destined to be.

you promised me forever
and yet you left me
just like everyone else does
like they always have
like they always will

each and every word of praise
sends smoke signals to my brain
confirming what i've long known
that i am god
and i could **** god
if i so desired
but really
this god complex of mine
is to hide the thousands of insecurities
i pick at from time to time

let us run to the field of flowers
sprinting, holding hands in the warm afternoon sun
daisies tickling our fingertips
all cares whisked away in the gentle breeze

please, please, please
let me free
release these bindings
that tie down my wings
let me have the freedom
that i never got the chance to have