The constellations in the sky don’t speak to me
like they speak to others.
In the dark of the night,
I see only the moon.
But through the sparkling of the stars in the night,
a beacon stole away my attention.
A star that blisters like the sun itself,
holding abundant contrast to the desolation that surrounds it.
Although everything is against it,
it shines with clarity.
Every night, I am drawn to it all the more.
Even with the uncertainty in the universe,
a guiding light has found its way to me.
For I do not know what lies in my path,
but I know my star will always be there.

Pluck,
She knows me.
Pluck,
She knows me not.
As the sun settles in its high place in the sky,
we are settled in your bed occupied with different tasks.
I’m restless, but you’re content editing our latest Roblox video.
Or so I thought.
Joy is a peculiar thing.
It fills you with a sense of completion, but also a sense of dread.
You never know if it will end.
But this joy, it doesn’t end.
Pluck,
She knows me.
Pluck,
She knows me not.
As I throw on my cap and shoes I watch you run out the door.
The wind blows through my hair, and the quick ponytail I put in comes undone.
This is what it’s like to finally feel happiness,
and I could latch onto that feeling forever.
Pluck,
She knows me.
Pluck,
She knows me not.
The hills of Kesling Park become our sanctuary.
They are Littered with innocence and purity.
They are littered with cheerful daisies!
I fall to my knees and into a world I have never known.
A world without strife.
A world where I can just be myself.
Where I can just be with you.
Pluck,
She knows me.
Pluck,
She knows me not.
A friendship is complicated.
Maintaining the perfect balance of connection and individualism is hard to do.
But we’re perfect at it.
We weave in and out of each other in a way that only supplies laughter.
In that same way, I weave our crown.
It’s daisies.
As the sun shines on each flower I see the image of us.
One flower shows understanding,
and another shows entertainment.
One reflects our issues, but the other displays our ability to solve them.
Each one is imperfect as we are, but they never leave each other.
They will forever be in that crown like we will forever be with each other.
Pluck,
She knows me.
And that is where it ends.
As I watch each petal fall to the ground, I have finally found what I’ve spent my life searching for.
Not always will I feel pain and heartbreak,
so I must stop living in fear of it.
She brings me joy, and nothing can take that away.
No wilted flower, no wretched rainstorm, and no heatwave may break what we have.
Because she knows me,
and that’s all I’ve ever wanted.

I see a flower glistening in the distance.
The light reflects off it in a way I can only describe as ethereal.
In the haze of the light,
I see my future;
my hope,
my self worth.
Like a foolish child, I run towards it.
As I take a step, a light drop of water falls onto me.
The farther I go, the harder the rain pounds until I can no longer hear my own footsteps.
The anger of the storm is overwhelming.
It’s all I see.
It’s all I hear.
As the thunder strikes it binds me to the cold and unforgiving storm.
My eyes flit to those around me who have found their way out.
A serene field awaited them beyond the dark clouds,
a refuge.
But this field of nightmares is all I’ve ever known.
The thunder screams around me,
consumes my will to fight.
It tightens a noose around my neck,
binds my wrists behind my back.
Why must it affect me in ways it does not others?
“I have to let it all go”
“I have to learn,
to breath,
to live.”
But the pounding rain that stings my eyes
is forever a rush that I will crave.
One that I will always give in to.
One that I will always run back to.
One that will never change.
Spring brings me false hope.
It will never bring me flowers.

An ugly green bud.
Closed off to the world.
No one can see in,
and it can’t see out.
As the seasons changed, it changed with them.
One by one, petals sprouted.
The dashing canary yellow of the new addition lured them in.
It looked like every other flower didn’t it?
It had a pollen filled center,
and a stem with rigid leaves.
So it was a flower,
and it lived its life as one.
For the feeble-minded, it was perfect.
It was unique in its own ways, sure, but it was just like every other flower,
and that was okay with everyone else.
But as you spend more time in that godforsaken field,
more time plucking it’s petals out
One
By
One,
more time seeing that “flower” for what it truly is,
you’ll see that everything is not as it seems.
You’ll know why the flower never lets anyone get too close,
and never lets anyone stay for long.
It will close back up,
and when it reopens
it will simply be a thought you once had.
As it is blown away in the wind,
you’ll see small traces of its presence left behind,
traces of what it once was.
Of what it could have been.
But you will not thank it,
No.
For it is not truly a flower,
but only a ****.

You built the foundations of my being with your bear hands, though the pillars of salt filled all of my wounds.

You created everything that I am, though you've destroyed me all the same.

We are Atlantis, as we are lost

Your love showered comforting drops of reassurance until it became a storm, drowning out who I am

leaving me to wonder if we were ever real, or a narrative fabricated to dazzle the shining eyes all around us

In one breath you watched me rise, and then you killed my light.

You bashed my head into the wall, yet you were the one who kissed it better?

In what way does that make you a respectable person,
someone that I should value?

In what way does that mean I must devote my love and my life to you?

You think you are so deserving, as you sit and watch all the havoc you have wreaked unfold.

You are a dictator of my world

Telling me who I must be
Who I can see
And what I must do

The chains weigh me back as u run far ahead of me taunting at me to catch up,

when I don’t

You fight back.

You rip my hair from its holds,
you tear my skin until it is painted in crimson,
you pierce my heart with your weapon of words,

and yet at the end you repair me

you apologize for your sins and pray to me as if I were your god

You beg me for my forgiveness,
and I accept

Deep down I know you will never change

You will continue biting down on my tongue so that I may not utter the truth

You will still harm me the same way you always have

But you will deny it.
You will turn it on me.

You’ll tell me I cut my own hair off for being too reckless
You’ll tell me I skinned my own knees from being too foolish
You’ll tell me I pierced my own heart by being too trusting

Yet it was you I trusted.

You sculpted me from the clay you were given as it lay awkwardly in your hands
Yet when the kiln got too hot, you smashed it out of fear

You created me as a person, and killed me as a friend.