All the acrid smoke
And dust of the world
Fills my lungs
Burning
Burning like a fire
I can taste the sulfur on my tongue
And feel the charcoal sticking to my fingertips
I look around
And all I see is a wasteland.

I don't look like either side of my family
an outlier in plain sight
soap-bleached, dry hair in puffs of smoke
and rolls of skin
undesirable on either side
and i feel the heat

could i have been born well?
untangled as i felt the first few rays of light
maybe meant for a different mother
the storks dropped their package
on the wrong address

my mother, could you dry my eyes?
just for the night
before you empty your wallets
at the big house
before you ruin your liver
and fill the gaps with
*****

maybe i was meant for a different light
a different face, a different body
a different name, a different brain
a different person in my mirror everyday
i sing songs of wanting to escape
as i rattle the metal bars on my windows
i am not mistreated,
rather not treated at all
walking in silence as my sister
freely wails her sorrows into her pillow at night
tiptoeing to not be heard
my brother cackles and screams slurs
at the top of his lungs

they were made for them
perfect children of god
carbon copies of my mother's face and demeanor
i
only through my eyes

only through my eyes.

i ripple
with each touch
from your fingertips
in constant motions
that glide
hover against my skin
i tremble before you
goosebumps litter my flesh
and yet you say
you're not a god
but your eyes tell me otherwise
each pupil holds the sun and the moon
in warm pools
and with each flutter from your downcast lashes
paints my waters in glints of gold.

light me on fire
set me ablaze
i let you fan me till i grow big
and swallow forests whole
nobody blames the arsonist
just the fire.

she's so pretty
the way her smile lightens up the room
to how her hair sways when she walks
to the little things she does that make my heartbeat sky rocket
she fills my stomach with butterflies
i'd be lying if she didn't make me cry a little inside
but she's so pretty it hurts
everything about her makes my chest ache
from the way she laughs, the sweetness of its sound
to the way her gentle voice says my name
the little things she does make my poor heart throb
even thinking about her makes me want to sob
she's so pretty.

are you the last day of summer?
the final whisper of the sun
soon
i'll let you go
and see you again
but for now
let me cry
and hold you tight.

she's made of words
of unspoken poetry
a series of novels in the making
and skin littered in love letters

each time she whispers in my ear
i hear lyrics and verses of unsung songs
a melody so sweet
sweeter than wine
and candy combined

each letter she strings together
looks like constellations across the evening
and every syllable she utters blows up in sparks
like lightning in the night sky

yes, she may be hard to read
but she's fun to analyse
how one can be so complex
so beautiful
at the same time

truly
there is no one like her
someone who can speak her own mind
she's unique, fantastical
one of a kind.

there is no echo
when i scream into the void
only a linger in the air
the tension of letting go
the snap
of release
of freedom at last
and when i peer beyond the steep cliffside
the void will listen
when i cant hear myself.

i think i've lost the feeling in my fingertips
and the words that
graze my lips
slip
and dissipate
into meaningless thoughts
onto a page
it's the banging against my window panes
the clang and drip of rain
it's the constant reminder of the sun
that 'yes, i live'
'yes, i am here'
'yes, i will stay'
'for as long as you will let me'
it's like listening to the sound of crashing waves
against the shore
as i dip my toes
in the moonlight
but
there is that fear
of the unknown
the slippery tongues of the abyss
that lap and lick against my heels
the tremble of my lip
the shudder down my spine
as it snakes around my legs
it's the longingness to runaway
and disappear
to leave without a trace
no new names, no fake identities
not a smidge of existence
no footprints left behind.

i stand at the pedestrian crossing
white parallel lines aged by rubber
i wait for another person
and i cross

my brain goes white with parallel lines
i stop
in the middle of the street
for a second

sometimes i wish a car would
take me then
sometimes i wish a truck would
knock me out
is it worth the trauma
of gradeschoolers?
is it worth the clean up of city hall?
and how would they portray me?
a suicidal maniac who gets people in prison?
or merely an idiot with nothing better to do
other than cause chaos?

scene of the crime
outlined in white chalk against
white parallel lines
brain matter splattered on an SUV's windshield

funny

they can't find my eyes.

i'd like to feel that feeling again
the one that sets my soul on fire
and fills my veins with magic
leading up to my fingertips
leaving fingerprints lined with gold and glitter
that feeling of pleasant pain
the ringing in my ears
and the butterfly garden in my stomach
the feeling on the cusp of being called love
let me feel it again.

what once was
warm and close
like a kind flame dancing in the night
the heat of warm hands and
sunlight kissing the trees
now brews contempt
in murky waters
stirring, sloshing with the sliminess of greed.

I could feel the longing in her eyes
As we spoke
Each word she whispered stung and ached
Like the bite of a venomous snake
But every move she made had screamed
With unspoken apologies
Apologies for what,
I did not know.

i always yearn for the things i can't reach
yearning for the sweetness of control
the satisfaction of having everything
and anything
brings

but i always find myself in tears
dumbfounded.

my hands bled
small red crescent moons
etched deep into my palms
that drip onto my lap
when i watch
                 i    c a n ' t    s a y    i t
and i breathe
shakey
spelling out your name
across my skin
in goosebumps
but my blood goes cold
and boils too hard
bubbling into my temples
popping in my brain
a banging
a raging
anger
my vision goes red

and yet.

Beneath my skin, a raging fire
Pulsating, throbbing within me
A suffocating heat, a blistering pyre
Don't touch me, you will get burned
But there is nothing I want more
Than to place your hands upon my heart
To thaw and melt
The ice which binds them.

i can see the night on her skin
each freckle clustered
like constellations
scattered throughout her body
on the very dips of her hips
to the dimples on her back
a starry
starry night.

let me tend to the butterflies in my stomach
so when you step into my world
you'll see a garden full of colour.

the sun awoke from its slumber
and rose
i watched it shower the land in mellow hues
and the rays of the sun tinged your skin an orange so deep
you could have been the sun incarnated
casting your light on the flesh of my bones
warming the frigid touch of my fingers


(and maybe i,

your moon)


when you kissed me
it felt as if i'd burn under your touch
as if i'd melt away with a meeting of our lips
and you tasted like fireworks
of all that sparked,
and burned brighter than anything in this world
a kind of sweetness;
a flavour i can't quite pinpoint
i can't seem to get enough of you

(an eclipse)

you're ethereal. divine
ever stunning, ever radiant
glittering brilliantly in the still dark sky
glowing
glowing like a god, a celestial being
and only the light of the sun can touch you.