summer rain comes again
with the pained cry of someone
who isn't quite me.
summer rain comes again
where white meets gray
and lies are true.

static love
isn't love at all.
and i'm not sure
if i could trust you
if i were to fall.

with a single touch
the flowers beneath my skin
unearth and uproot.
with a single cut
i can easily erase
each and every mistake
that i've ever made.

her name is apart
and like me, she won't swallow.

he left himself
rotting somewhere away from me.
and maybe
i should be happy
but the pain of a severed heart lingers.

so are you damaged like me?
then i don't think i should see you
but i know i will anyway.
so meet me between your teeth tomorrow.

i stop at the t-junction
between your throat and your collarbone
loving people with a t-suppliment
overthrowing any judgement

you forced me up
and squeezed lemon juice down my throat
i'm pretending that this was never real
but feeling my skin flake and peel

do you ever miss the pain of a new scar?
because there is too much space between my fingers
and it feels raw and unwelcome.

there is something alluring about
unraveling string-
loose ends splitting and breaking
forever vanishing into oblivion

i love her like group therapy loves refreshments.
but sometimes i hate the way things unravel.
and the way we re-tangle after cutting colored strings.
is this really love if all my bones will break?

she said she feels strange sitting next to me,
as she traced the lines of my wrist tattoos and smiled.
it's hard to know where people are in all this air,
they could be nowhere, or dissolved within my skin.

i love her the way flowers bloom between my fingers.
the way i cry after the game and it's the ending screen.
i can't help pleading when i'm so used to the feeling.
is this really love if i come out covered in scars?

my friends get blitzed without me
so i smoke out my own window
curl my legs in tight and cry sober

i wish i had more body heat and
someone's melting heart to bleed out
and whisper sweet everythings to

yet i don't know how to deal with
people begging for *** and
on their bruised knees for me-

since i was never taught consent.
i just gave up myself when asked,
eyes turning silver with a shiver

now he's coughing up his lungs
and calling it love, breathless
and asking to see me up close

i want someone else without
the false conceptions of intimacy
but here i am slumped over my desk

bent for all to see my imperfections
what? do you like my crippling illness?
that's good, because i keep it just for you

i think someone stitched my pockets closed
and the fluorescent light above me flickers,
as if it's possessed by a lonely ghost.

these days grow softer, lines fading into watercolor
and my mouth tastes like a hundred cotton *****
from all these pills i've been prescribed to swallow.

i remember when i wanted to be loved,
now i only want the beating of my heart to cease
but the pulse in my wrists belongs to someone else
and when i look in the mirror, the creature i see isn't me.

sundays are the days i was tangled up in the sheets suffocating
and choking out sobs i couldn't form into proper words
if only her arms could finally envelop me in gentle darkness.