You smiled at me in my dream and for a moment I thought all was forgiven
But I awoke to see you run to the mound where I’ve been buried
To poison my soil with gasoline and set it all ablaze
How could I tell you I would have given you to the waves
That I wanted to wash away the war that pitted me against you?
My love told me it’s best to be hated by some
But being hated by you, sister, I cannot bear
I pray that when they fall, your tears will be softer than mine
And that one day you’ll find feelings to spare

We made a mess of my sheets but I don’t want to change them.
The smell of you on my pillowcase is the closest you can be for now
and
your home is where my heart is.
Time drags on with the distance between us,
but
ticking off the days until you’re in my arms again makes me feel as bright as a Jonah Taylor song playing in the summer.
I know I’m falling in love because you feel like a gentle rain on a warm day easing my weary spirit.
I’ve been afraid of the rain for a while,
but I let myself walk outside to smell the petrichor.
Now I only wish I had gone outside sooner, for you’ve brought my earth to life.

Fall: A double meaning. It was only autumn, and I was already head over heels for you.

Peace: We walked to the park in those crisp, ever-shortening nights to get high and hold hands. The journey back was always so much more beautiful.

Lust: I gave myself wholly to you, trusting you to be gentle with my scars. Being naked in front of someone else had always been a terrifying thought; being naked with you made me feel safe.

Distance: We spent less and less time together. You still loved me down and tried to convince me it was as real as it was in the beginning, but I felt myself slipping into the rift.

Distress: You said we needed a break, so you could work on yourself and learn how to show me love again.
                      You are right, but I still feel empty.

I heard demons harmonizing in song today,
But I’m still unsure if 21 will ever find me.
Maybe if two evils can make a good, though,
I can cancel myself out and finally
Find my peace among the stars

Writing helps to get it all out.
Pain, frustration, anger, abandonment...

All of it.

I like to write often.
It's why I have a collection of pens
on my bedside table.

Sometimes, I write so much
The ink drips from the pen to the floor.
At least it seeps into the carpet fibers
so no one is able to read it.

I suppose writing has become my addiction.

There are nights where I write a lot,
especially when it gets late
and I'm certain no one is around
to hear my feverish scribbling.

The ink starts to spot my sheets then.

But I can't stop myself.

I'll inhale,
Count to ten.
Exhale.
Pick up the pen.

It's fine.

Why does it matter if I write another line?

I’ve held you up in your weakest state
And you repay me by kicking me to the ground
Swiping at my chest with nails painted poison
Until I’m left coughing up bits of broken heart on the floor

Now here we are again
A new face, a new name
Same poisonous fingers
Same icy veins

But I will rise from the ashes you tried to cage me in
The doubts you threw in with me
And prove to myself yet again
That in the end I will be my only friend