You kiss a lot of people that taste like anything but home.

Street light stars flicker above you

the blue filter over your skin makes you look a little less sad,

a little more drunk.

You fill yourself up with the saddest things;

Of people that slow your pulse down,

that sharpen their teeth against your bones.

Of a churning sea of clear *****,

waves breaking over your rib cage.

Of thick smoke that makes your lungs feel like silk,

that make your fingertips dance across the thin line of what feels like forgetting,

and what hurts.

But you’re running out of things to make yourself feel better,

and the more you hurt yourself 

the less you are inclined to hate him

Hi can someone help me figure out how to add my poem to a collection please? I would really appreciate it :)

My mother looked for God at the bottom of a wine glass as empty as her heart,
she shrunk herself down to curl up in the bottom of it
and I haven’t heard her pray since.

My father looked for God at a grave marked for a man that introduced them.
But saw only grass growing over dirt,
saw only unanswered pleas
and he has been six feet further away from being saved since.

My brother looked for God in the highest place he could reach.
He was met with only a long way to fall,
the ground beneath him wasn’t as soft as it had been when he was a child,
and he hasn’t looked up since.

I looked for God in unheard answers and nights of loneliness.
All that I got back were prayers soiled with tears.
I caved in on myself.
And i have learned something since.

The dark cavern between my ribs holds promises
The possibilities of a glass that is empty
is as much as an empty heart has;
to be filled.
The certainty that six feet under isn't where our loved ones lie
The blanket of a God that loves us enough to let us hate Him
The highest place we can reach on earth,
is kneeling before a God that is not hard to find, but is hard to see.
All I had to do, was look inside of myself.

He’s going to make you feel like Cleopatra
this is your kingdom
solid gold crown on your head
and you can feel the riches in your veins.
Maybe he didn’t fill your cup with his own wine,
but who’s love were you remembering the taste of
when the poison touched your lips?

the first time i kissed you,
i tasted salvation.
sweet hymns sang between lingering touches
and my skin burnt with something that looked like heaven,
but felt like hell.
tell me something that will lift the fear from my shoulders
and soon the stale air im breathing in is too heavy in my lungs.
religion is a game of who's story you believe the most.
i feel internal life in your hands
i taste something sweeter than enlightenment on your lips.
and i found myself believing in you as fiercely as if i had found God.

1.ask yourself why
years wasted looking into a shattered mirror,
fingers pricked from reaching for things that slipped between the cracks.
2.whisper apologies to your stomach,
tell it that it is welcome here again.
3.Kiss your hipbones goodbye
and promise to never ask so much of them again.
4.thank your ribs
for as long as you pushed against them they never let you get to what was underneath.
they fought to anchor you back down.
5.mend the skin that is littered with scars
it held you together through years of being ripped apart.
6.tell yourself that it's not overnight,
that the transparent girl with boney fingers that cut into you like knives
will be hovering behind you the rest of your life.
7.hear her whispering numbers into your ears,
8.feel the cranks in your brain start churning again,
9.feel yourself getting lighter and life becomes hazy, you're three feet off the ground and it's colder up here, but it makes you feel more awake-
10.turn them off. everyone relapses.
11.start to realize that she is so hollow because there is nothing valuable inside of her.
12.the mirror doesn't look cracked anymore
13.You realize it was your mind that was shattered.

Your mosaic soul shows cracks, shattered glass,
jagged on the edges
and red where your pricked your fingers trying to pick them up.
I see pieces putting together something greater.
your water color freckles,
splattered over pale skin.
I'd compare them to the constellations, but those are just shapes
and the path im tracing with my fingers tells me much more.
there's no dawn in your golden brown eyes,
the sun I see shinning through stained glass is too bright to be just barely rising.
you are reckless laughter caught in a shutter
a frame by frame moment of the last trickles of childhood
blackness blurring the edges around you
from being left too long in the developer.
your lips feel like oil pants,
sliding over mine like a blank canvas,
I can still see the masterpiece you made me into.
I can still feel the whips of graphite tears pouring down your cheeks as you let all of the art you hold inside.