I can't cut
No more
No
No
No
I promised

But the feelings are so strong
Overflowing me
I need them to pour down my arm
And out of my body

I can't
I can't be that weak
I just need to breathe
...
My lungs fail me

But no
No
No
I can't reach for it
Not allowed
Not anymore
Done with that, right?
I really just want to grab the knife
Razor
Needle
Anything
And end this misery
At least soothe it a little

But no
No
No
No
I can't

i say i’m sorry
so you know i care.
because silence feels like giving up,
and i’d rather bruise myself with guilt
than make you wonder if i feel anything at all.

i say it
because i don’t know what else to say.
because love doesn’t always come out soft
when it lives in a body like mine.
a body that flinches from closeness,
but aches for it all the same.

i say it
because i break things.
people.
promises.
quiet moments that deserved to stay whole.
and i want you to know
that i see the damage,
that i’m not blind to what i cause.

how long can i be sorry
before i break?

before the guilt becomes a fault line,
and all my trying
just splits me in two?
before the apology
is the only thing left of me?

i say i’m sorry
because i still believe in glue,
in hands that hold,
in second chances.
but i don’t know
how many more times
i can be the one who breaks things
and still expect
to be held.

i say i’m sorry
because i love you.
and i’m terrified
that won’t be enough.

i have a sadness lurking in me
the base of every poem i write
the core of my love
as i give myself papercuts
from your letters
and your poems
and i sit quietly
in the shadow
of your starlight.

On the hardest nights
that you go outside
When you can’t breathe
Can’t stop shaking
And you look up at the sky
Desperate to feel better

For the vines to soften their grip
For the monster to hold your hand
And you see something bright up there
Something you didn’t even know you needed
A star
You
And suddenly
Its magic makes everything okay again
For a moment the blood stops pouring
Just to marvel at the brightness

But the star is all the way up there in the sky
And no matter how many time you shout how much you love them
They never get to truly know how much they saved your life
Sometimes even
They think that their brightness is too much
Hated

And they want to stop their beautiful burning
In fear that it is too much of something beautiful
That they don’t truly understand how beautiful it is
And that it can’t be too much

Dearest star,
You are never going to be too gay for us
Love is poetry after all
Love is all of your unfinished poems to your unfinished story
And just know that we love you
So so much

Just perfect

And I know,
Depression blocks that all out
It whispers everything you don’t need to hear
It tells you you’re not enough
But sweetheart
We are so lucky that the cloud moved
And that we get to marvel at you

so fold the paper crane
but don't you dare call it wrong
fold the peach paper
into a shape as magnificent as you
but don't cut it anymore
it is already stained red

and make people happy without losing your shine
glow as bright as your heart desires
you can please people
without losing yourself in their storm clouds
you are too bright a star
to dim yourself to their darkness

And of course, you may not be blue eyed barbie
but you are beautiful in your own way
you are a meteor shower
and believe me, that's so much better
a rare phenomenon
a magical occurrence

Every scar
Ever ***** up
Every tear
All of it
Is beautiful
and whatever you wish
just know you cannot be extinguished

mood swings 6.21.25 (1:24 pm / 13:24)
something’s wrong with me, isn’t there
everyone says this is okay this is normal this is fine
doctors: this is just a side effect of the meds
friends: this happens to everyone
parents: it’ll be okay it’s okay

and me: this is fine i’m fine i can stay fine if i just keep this face of fineness
and blankness and stare into space

it’s not it’s not fine
i can’t do this anymore

i don’t believe in god but please someone help me
i was happy just a minute ago
please
let me go back

impossible 6.21.25 (2:07 pm / 14:07)
it feels so
impossible
to carry on

i know i wrote a poem called carry on
that day was a good day, may 7, 2025
that day was a day i might have been happy

it feels so impossible to go back there
that light and love are impossibly far away
everything good is impossible for me

i want someone to make impossible possible
i want someone to at least want to help me
please
is it so hard?
i've tried for you, would you try for me too?

maybe that's impossible too
just wishful thinking
there's no one here for me

i’ve tried so hard
it's impossible

The suns first color is yellow.
Her favorite for sure.
She has others though.
A collection of more.
Oranges bleed to pinks,
Purples seep into red.

Dawn and dusk.
Her best times of day.
No matter the weather,
She always comes back,
She always try’s to stay.
When the sun comes out,
All worry’s wash away,
And brightness,
Fills,
The—once,
Cloudy day.

Loneliness is a record player
Sitting in an attic
With no record

It is when you look into life’s mirror
And see you’re not alone
You see the monster of your mind creeping up behind you
Whispering loud enough that only you can hear

Loneliness is the loudest silent scream of them all
Yet no one can hear how loud you feel it
Through any bathroom stall

I would climb mountains
Hijack cars
Walk 26 days
And almost die
If that meant I could hug you
Even one time