And over time,
My pen stopped bleeding
But my heart didn't

you remember me?
because I remember you
I wish I didn't

do not date a girl
who writes.
she will internalize
everything,
carve poems
into your eyelashes
instead of
kissing them,

she will analyze you,
calculate age
from the rings
your coffee cup
leaves
instead of refilling it.

she will memorize
the way your
lips curl around steam,
but not that you
take it
two sugars,
no cream.

she will read your
palm instead of
holding it
against her chest.

she will not
blink
when you leave,
because she is
already
romanticizing it.

i miss you
and i always will,
but until then
we knew from the start,
we’re just stars
meant to be apart

and now we’re strangers
with mem’ries kept,
love grown for ages
i’ll never regret.

I spilled some blood on the bathroom floor, mama,
But I swear it was an accident.
See, my hand slipped across porcelain, mama;
My skin tore like satin.

The paint flowed like a river then, mama,
And colored me a crimson sunset.
Oh, but it made such a mess, mama,
And I know messes make you upset.

So close your eyes, mama,
'Cause you're weeping red and the tears might stain.
Red for your lost love and red for scarlet fire,
and red for the young rose cut from the briar.

Maybe now I could be poetry, mama
The type you wrote about in your younger days.
Golden sun swallowed in carmine, mama
With its last rays dying in a blaze.

I loved the way i lost my soul to the simplest girl that slew my still delicate unscathed bleeding heart.

I want nothing more than to see you
but...
Seeing you is getting harder and harder to bear