they're saying "all you do is drink and cry", "I think you're bad for everyone" and you're not saying anything and I'm saying I love you,
I ******* love you
And maybe I needed something to bring me back to reality maybe these bathtubs are always a little too deep for me but I fit so perfectly in small spaces because I learned when I was 14 that i was never gonna grow into a butterfly
but my aunt still calls me hers and I'd still flutter my eyelashes on yours while the earth turned to ash because I like things ending so softly
and you are a ******* miracle if I've ever seen one I want to sleep with you so badly, on a trampoline in the summer and I want to watch you do bad things and smile so sweetly at you and you'll know that I don't give a **** what you do as long as you're still loving me while you're doing it because baby we've got this one life and I've been loving you as long as I have known what love is and I know it's in the way you whisper and I know it's in the way you say you're my world and if the world stopped turning tomorrow we'd be the only things still moving with excitement you make me so nervous and calm and nervous and calm and deep breath you make me nervous I bet you'll make me nervous when we're older and I'm making you pancakes and I feel your eyes on me and I burn my fingers but you always kiss them better baby
you're an alleyway and the kitten that sleeps there
you're the rain on the windowpane and the water breaking the levee
I'm drowning in everything I have ever said to you so if I say one last thing one last thing,
while you're not saying anything,
I love you,
I ******* love you

this is a poem about how you sleep,
how your body grew cold like a corpse in a mortuary.
how it felt wrong to reach out and touch you.
did you know that you turned away from me
every time i tried to face you?
did you do it on purpose?
maybe you were afraid i would be able to see
you were dreaming of her,
that i would read it on your face.
lines by your mouth like obituary,
like roadmap, her bedroom,
the destination, mine, a pitstop.
loving you was like attending a funeral service for myself
and sitting in the front row. no.
loving you was like watching you pick out a casket
and call it practice. ****.
i know how sensitive you are about death.
i know it still hurts.
i know how everything hurts.
i am sorry for just being another thing that hurts.
i think i'm afraid to let you forget that you used to want me.
like if i can somehow dig deep enough,
wound you into remembering me.
i keep weapons-grade nostalgia in my back pocket
for the days i can feel myself slipping from your consciousness.  
i was born with scar tissue where skin should've been.
but this isn't about me.
this is about the way you sleep
like you're waiting for someone to close the lid,
cover you in dirt, and read a psalm.
this is about the way i tried to sing your pieces back together,
and the way my voice gives out
when i read the things you write for anyone other than me.
lover, friend, stranger,
i just wanted to show you how to love your darker parts.
i never meant to become one.
i am so ******* selfish.
but i swear i am trying to unlearn the steps.
and you used to think my two left feet were charming.
i am out of time in more ways than one.
i keep stepping on your toes.
i can't seem to stop tripping you up,
hoping that you'll fall back into whatever this was.

- m.f.

I'm done with
Feeling sorry for me
I'm done with
Feeling sorry for you
I'm done with
Hanging around all day
And never getting over you
I don't need someone
Who will hold me in place
I need someone
Who will let me go
Do my own thing
But stay by my side
And love me through it.

A boy and a girl
Laying in bed
Ever so sweetly
Touching is their heads
They confess their love
True soul mates they are
And swear never to leave
Whether too close or too far
The girl looks at the boy
And says why can't we wed
The boy replies money is the reason
Theyre ***** in this bed
The boy has an idea
One that will make her blush
And show her she is more
Than just a childhood crush
The boy goes into his closet
Brings back a piece of string
Cuts a sliver off and
says "can this be your ring"
And in that moment
Where magic danced in the night
They became newly weds
As he tied the string on tight

My *** drive would cause earthquakes,
but I can never find the time
to leave this place,
this bed-side lamp,
and away from poor attempts at rhyme.

Depression is a tired old topic.
But *** is forever at hand
to pin you down,
to win you round,
slinking off to the toilet in my dressing gown.

I know you feel a belonging
to the archives of music,
you drink in bed,
and sink on in,
to the restless call of another troubled head.

I will find restoration
held between your slender legs.
It is all we've got,
in this paradise lost,
in this sweaty reclaim,
to a feeling we'd forgot.

Going down is not an art,
but a way of keeping young.
How can you claim to love
what you won't dare to kiss?
How will you ever hear her siren song?

My small hips
Unfeminine
My height
Unfeminine
My broad shoulders
Unfeminine
My blonde, short eyelashes
Unfeminine
My straight legs
Unfeminine

my strength
Unfeminine
my intelligence
Unfeminine
my strong voice
Unfeminine

It's 12:25 in the early morning,
The stars are majestically prancing around in the heavenly sky.
Never was there a gigantic, obese sign forewarning,
Attempting to grab my attention seeking eyes.
Screaming and shouting, "He's just a beautiful boy with a devil heart."
Would a young, innocent soul have the conscientious mind to spot such a simple flaw?
Maybe, if I wouldn't have been so knee deep in trying to restart,
I may not have ever let your rough, graceful hands unclip my bra.
It's now 12:39 and I'm slowly remembering how to forget you,
All I can slightly acknowledge is scratching your bare back and moaning your aesthetically crafted name.
Don't ask me to bid you adieu,
Because I only have my wondering heart to blame.

I'm writing letters on my body
All the things that I can't say
So when you find my body
You can finally get my way

Those words will be all the twilight has left
As the sun and the moon kiss the edge

I'm writing letters on my body
To tell and untold story
So when you see all those A's and O's
Please think of me when it snows

Those words will be all the ground has left
As the dirt covers up the message

I'm writing letters on my body
To draw you a map to rescue someone else

He plays the the sound of a rainfall in Manhattan.
As he chases paper thin skin out of this sorry sob story
another fairy tale in his head.
I think you've had enough for today Alex
why don't you sing of pretty things?
Eyes like coals too dark to see,
do they stop your hands from strumming that guitar?
the tunes you play
the melodies
echo in the absence of your voice
and alex you taste so sweet
sweeter than the alcohol you use to get to sleep
I tell you one day the past will catch up with you;
but your smile looks like a well adjusted childhood.
Something were all surprised to see.
And yeah your fingers pour over the strings,
because
the only time they dont shake is when you play
so play for me
play play play
sing sing sing
dont stop
dont breathe
just play

I've been smoking about you,
been drinking about you
even thinking about you

This drag, that swig
I'm high off your laugh,
drunk off your words.