lately i have been asking myself
how my love for you has not yet dwindled
into nothing but a ghost
after all
you have broken my heart into pieces
too sharp to gather without cutting my fingers
on the edges.
my fragmented sanity has become a dagger
that you have used to stab my chest
and the tears grazing my cheeks
taste as bitter as the words
that i wish i had the courage to say to you.

(k.t)

his hands latch onto my hips.
i can feel his breath fanning down my neck.

they call moments like this "heated" for a reason,
but i had not felt colder before he pressed my back against the wall,
for this only sparked memories of the moments i had shared with you.

(k.t)

josh is cool.
but he doesn't like rice.
joshua joshua
joshua nice.

You are above me, for the simple fact that you are not me.
I am but a lonely piano player, who resides in the corners
of restaurants and blackened old hearts. You, with

glimmering eyes, and mischievous lips, dance barefoot
against the earth, the arches of your feet covered in free-verse.
I do not approach you; you are above me.

And here is something you may have overlooked
One room’s floor is another room’s
ceiling, and while you sway and dance and live and wander

you are inevitably doing so on my dreams. Burdened and breathless,
I sit and watch you move, up in the stars and the night and the
glow of the moon.

I look up and i see Heaven, you look down and you
see Hell. And as you bow your head to pray, just remember,
you are above me.

I am not suicidal.
But life has lost all meaning.
While I may not go looking
for Death's hands,
if He found me,
and wrapped his fingers around mine
I think I just might
fall
     in
          love.