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i wish i was poisonous.
i wish you would fall, and fall hard,
and struggle to breathe from the arsenic
i placed into your lungs.
i wish you would struggle to focus
from the nicotine i made run through your veins.
and i wish i was addictive
just like the ****** needles injected into your skin.
i wish i never left your mind
just like the amphetamines and methadone.
and i want to fill your lungs
just like the cigarette smoke in the summer rain.
i wish i was some sort of remedy
just like the green you smoke to take away your blues.
or that i could be something more permanent
just like the summer serotonin.
i want to soak your skin and pollute your mind
just like oceans of kerosene.
i wish the thought of me would leave you numb
just like anesthetics on the hospital bed
that would eventually make you pass out
just like the melatonin pills you take.
but i am not a drug.
and i am certainly not poisonous.
not the way i want to be.
for you are the poisonous one,
and i think it's safe to say
that i am addicted to you
in more ways than any human
could ever be addicted to any type of drug.
you are my morphine lover
and i'll never get enough of you.
May 3, 2018
it's strange, isn't it?
i lay awake at night writing poetry
and making the darkest secrets of my life
visible to anyone who cares enough to listen.
i hide my secrets behind these words,
and no one thinks to truly listen to the words
that move softly from my lips
and stain blank pages with fresh ink.
but maybe now that i say this
you will go back and listen.
and think.
and understand.
piece together my life and finally know the truth.
or maybe my words are simply too mutated
for anyone to understand without me elaborating.
but i will not elaborate.
you either know or you don't.
if you know, i'm sorry about this.
i know you're sick of this, of me.
and if you don't know, i'm also sorry
because you might find out this way.
my words are tangled in knots
and people struggle to make sense of them.
people struggle to find the sense
in making sense of me
because i simply do not make sense.
but unlike me, my word have meaning.
they aren't just compiled letters
that form complicated words
that string into complex phrases.
they share hidden truths and secrets,
and now i'm vulnerable.
but everyone would learn the truth eventually,
so why not make it into something beautiful?
May 4, 2018
as i hold this rose
that represents the love i let go stale,
my hand bleeds from the thorns
that are tearing off my skin.
but at least i feel something again.
that's all i ever really wanted -
to feel something again.
the past four months i have been nothing
but a hollow shell, a fragment
of everything i used to be.
all because i let hope
become my reason for living.
but hope will **** you.
it will **** you long before you are dead.
and you **** yourself long before
you give anyone else the chance to.
you break yourself,
i broke myself,
by my own ******* mind.
and i can't blame anyone for that but myself.
because i broke my own heart
through expectations.
and i guess now
i have to fix it myself too.
May 22, 2018
there's one thing i learned as a child.
it's that you always want things.
you beg for things that you want,
and cry when you don't get them.
but when you get them
you for some reason
no longer want them anymore.
so if i got you, would i still want you?
if i somehow managed to chase you down
and catch you with my hands,
would i just let you go?
return you to where you came from?
would i put you in a box
and put you away to collect dust?
or would i keep you as a prized possession
and keep you on my nightstand
and take you with me every morning?
that's the question i think about everyday.
if i had you, would i still want you?
i want you, and i want to keep you,
but will that change?
but i'm afraid i'll never know the answer,
for you will never give me the chance to know.
May 23, 2018
sometimes it feels like i have galaxies
growing and flowing through my veins.
i feel the pressure of the stars
pushing against my skin.
they ache to come out and feel oxygen.
planets crave to get out of their solar systems.
my blood is stardust
and i am the universe.
but sometimes i just have to let
the millions of stars inside of me
leave my skin and go to another world.
the galaxies flow from my skin,
leaving stains of stardust
wherever i had let them free.
i stitch up the blackholes i made
and i gently secure the plants and stars
that for some reason decided to stay
in their crummy little universe
of skin and bone.
and for some reason their universe stayed too.
and i, their universe, will continue to grow.
i will continue to form galaxies inside of me.
more galaxies than i can handle.
and i will continue to let them free until that day.
that day i am either strong enough to hold them,
or the day i lose too many of them
and become nothing but a cold and empty universe
that had once held too much painful life inside.
May 24, 2018
you've grown so cold
and so careless.
i understand
that you had your heart broken,
but that's not an excuse
to shut everyone else out
when they are desperately
trying to knock down your walls
and tell them they love you.
i don't think you even realize
that you're not the same anymore.
i don't even recognize you anymore.
you refuse to be sentimental.
you refuse to show any ounce of affection;
it's no wonder i always think you hate me.
i can't even remember the last time
you said you loved me.
you're reckless and a mess,
and i'm not sure where you went.
i don't know you anymore.
the old you decayed into the dirt,
and it's the you i had fallen in love with.
and it really hurts to lose someone
and to not be able to find them again.
but at the same time
you can see them standing there,
right in front of you.
December 26, 2019
i fell in love with you
every single day
for two years,
always reaching the same conclusion:
i could never give you
what you want.
but one day,
when i fell in love
for the 700-and-something-th time,
i came to a different conclusion:
you could never give me
what i want.

// k.q.h
December 26, 2019
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