what if i were a blonde bombshell

would it be different if i changed

would it be a little better

could i be a pulse on your radar

a blip on the screen

a little bit of static flipping through the channels

or maybe just me

could i have a place in line

a moment of your time

would it be different if i changed?

patient yet forlorn on saint valentine's day

it's quite sad

they all look and see
innocence, happiness
blissful rhythmic thinking
love and patience

I look and see
scars, stretch marks
nights spent wallowing
absence of self-worth

I frequently forget that lying is a sin

Probably because*
I do it so
Often


He looked me straight in the eyes
Asked if I was alright
I replied
I was fine
Just didn't get much sleep last night


- l. m.

Color me softly,
Quick swift motions,
Drape the canvas; is alive.
Delicate rotations, layered up the atmosphere.
Enlightened senses scavenge for their next prey.
Illuminated by the ****** night.
Lost in ones own sense of security.
Stop the clocks, switch your steps.
Racing in the colors for all eternity.
The colors collect the fragments left behind,
Leaving but only one; shall perish.
****** below the ever lasting green; lost in tragedy.
Forgotten by the long past memories.
Attached to the gaping Black Sea,
Lost in the archaic fire,
Touched by the engulfing flames.
Forgetting movement in the sorrow.
Suffocation; crushed by the magnitude of hatred.
Winding roads never leading a path of peace.

at 2:00 a.m.
your tears and the little circles underneath your eyes
are your only friends
and the moon that laughs at you
in that crooked smile
laughing at how miserable you are
and how small you feel
makes it all feel a little bit worse

under all of those sheets in your bed
you can't hide forever
but it is the only thing that keeps you warm
but that doesn't keep you from crying
again, and again
you are left with the moon
and her crooked smile