and he was like a drug to her
the more she took
the more she got addicted

Every time I found a piece of me
You lost a piece of you

If freckles were lovely, and day was night,
And measles were nice and a lie warn’t a lie,
Life would be delight,—
But things couldn’t go right
For in such a sad plight
I wouldn’t be I.

If earth was heaven and now was hence,
And past was present, and false was true,
There might be some sense
But I’d be in suspense
For on such a pretense
You wouldn’t be you.

If fear was plucky, and globes were square,
And dirt was cleanly and tears were glee
Things would seem fair,—
Yet they’d all despair,
For if here was there
We wouldn’t be we.

It started with a whisper
His voice felt like dark red velvet
He had a chaotic mystery on his tongue
And his head was a garden full of secrets
His eyes were maps of places he had been
Places he wanted to take me
As he whispered
I felt my heartstrings pull against my chest
He had wrapped me up in the sweet nothings that he was telling me
And tucked me in with a sweet kiss
And when i looked into his eyes
The maps were gone and there wasn't a road or street light to be found
For his eyes were black
And he was already gone

“why don’t you write a book?”

they’ll expect
a second

if consistency
and money
was consistant
see, I’d write a book

“you should write a book”

poetry is a dying art,
you’ll find a needle
every now and then
but the hay is bound
together with cellphones
and bongs
and unexpected
suicides

no one wants to hear
how sleep deprived you are
because your satin feels
like moth wings
and how your skin
feels like
a burning painting,
why cigarettes kiss
harder and how love
feels like the bottom
of a dinner plate

you’ll find compassion
and understanding
but finding a diamond in
the rough is
only valuable if
you can escape

he says were fine
so why do i feel like were not
my head is spinning
my stomach is in a knot
i have a fear of losing him
a craving for bruising me
should i tell him
or should i wait and see
i pick up a pen
and begin to stain
the patterns on my skin
relieve me of the pain
i long to feel
scars take too long to heal
il continue with my pen
in hopes that my mind
will mend