i’m just another
broken storyteller
hoping my words
will glue me back
together again

she likes the same things i do,
and i can’t help but wonder
if that’s why you chose her.
do you think of me when she
talks about my favorite band?
well i guess it’s her favorite too.
if you only ever think of me
once a year, i hope it’s on my birthday.
it’s hers too.
it was hers first,
but you were mine first.
this is the one time where
i wish i was last.

this entire winter
i’ve been a hibernating seed
under a blanket of
protective soil and frost.
spring shows me
emerging from the
dewy grass and
spouting up towards the sun,
but summer is where
i truly flourish.

don’t you let a single tear
drip down your face
i know it’s hard
little girl
to choke back those sobs
and let’em have it
but it gets better
my dear.

it does.

i’m under the influence
of the night,
darkness is my drug.

life is an attic and i’m
the tattered old books
in a box marked
‘fragile’
hope is the thing that
keeps me from wondering
when i’ll be thrown out.
despair is the thing
reminding me that
one day i will be.

my mama shot up
them dollar bills
and my daddy he drank
them away