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brittany-alexandraPoems
I only pick up a pen when my life is crumbling It's been months and last night I wrote 27 pages but ripped each one up like trying to keep secrets from myself I guess I am tired of overflowing Leaky tap with no fix People are sick, ripping wings off everything Angel wings don't grow back I tried to convince myself — "if you break it, you buy it" But I knew he couldn't afford me I sit like fine tea cups in the cabinet waiting and waiting You picked me up, touched me like I was glass but now I bite my nails, I cry in my sleep Glass breaks — and he has become quite purposefully, intentionally clumsy (B.N)
0
May 27, 2015
May 27, 2015 at 9:55 AM UTC
From The Cabinet
I only pick up a pen when my life is crumbling It's been months and last night I wrote 27 pages but ripped each one up like trying to keep secrets from myself I guess I am tired of overflowing Leaky tap with no fix People are sick, ripping wings off everything Angel wings don't grow back I tried to convince myself — "if you break it, you buy it" But I knew he couldn't afford me I sit like fine tea cups in the cabinet waiting and waiting You picked me up, touched me like I was glass but now I bite my nails, I cry in my sleep Glass breaks — and he has become quite purposefully, intentionally clumsy (B.N)
#pain#personal
brittany-alexandra
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brittany-alexandra
21
May 27, 2015
May 27, 2015 at 9:55 AM UTC
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