the questions the questions the
answers the answer
is not what you want, is
not what you. asked for
little worlds made of dust. and disolved
powder into the body of water you're
so thirsty. for something more than.
the need bleeding from your lips,
the urgency dripping from your.
fingertips carve love letters into my
skin is on fire and our little ocean has
dried up and we've disolved
into. dust thirsty for answers
when there aren't even questions.

sometimes
I wonder
how much easier
my life would be
if you'd never
touched it.
sometimes
I wonder
if I'd still choose you
if I knew where we'd go.
sometimes
I wonder
who I'd be
without you.
but I know
always I know
I'd choose you
again and again
every time
because even
at our worst
you are still
my best.

say nothing.
write nothing.
hold it all in.
because, it seems,
to breathe life into though
is to lead it
straight to its death.
so just hold it in,
let it incubate in absolute silence.
let it grow, and fester,
until maybe you’re about to burst
with the time bomb ticking in your chest.
my god
how hope kills.

I didn't mean to become work,
to cross the line from a hand to hold
to a handful.

I never meant to become the sad girl,
the girl that always invokes the response,
what now?

I'm sorry I need more than anyone can give me,
I'm sorry that I disolve at night,
any time, all the time.

I'm sorry.

I write letters
on napkins and bills and receipts.
I write letters because
there are things I can't
won't
say out loud. nobody's ever
going to read them
but at least I put the words
somewhere besides the
empty caverns of my own
soul.

color in my bones,
embellish my lungs,
sew lace into my beating heart -
adorn my skin,
sign your name.
I am my own art, yes,
but it wasn't until I found myself
beneath your hands
I became a masterpiece.