a dusty book left on a shelf
only to be forgotten is the only
thing i can compare myself to.
how do you find happiness
when the only thing you find
yourself surrounded by is just
a collection of the saddest novels.
i'm the last dead flower in a
once vibrant garden,
will i ever be watered?

i'm wilted, unwanted and have
not a single feeling of worth.
what's my purpose, i'm bleak,
bleary eyed and left to decay.
the ending to this story has yet
to be finished, but for now
i remain bookmarked waiting
for her to open me once more.

*i want to be your favorite book, i want
to be the story you won't forget

She used to have so much Life is her eyes
but I guess it died, it left with her cries.

She used to fly light as a feather,
but now stormy is her only weather.

She used to play music and dance in the rain,
now she's stiff and numb with pain.

I remember that sweet little face,
please remember her name.

May she rest in peace.
Depression is to blame.

you are the 3 a.m. ghost
that wakes me from my
deep slumber.
you haunt me in the most
beautiful way possible
and i just can't get enough.
your scent moves swiftly towards,
i hide just to deny the fact that
i am completely drawn to it.
give me your hand before i cower
back to my safe place
because life is scary at times
and you are the only one that
makes me feel some days are
worth living.


i can finally breath,

                *i can finally thrive.

im growing into butterfly wings
that you've shaped with scissors
and dew drops that fall from your waterline
that looks like where the ocean meets the sky
you're a horizon of time zones that always pass by

it's like the sun is afraid of me
and the crickets are my friends
ive brought them here
so you can hear my favorite instrument
it's soft, and sweet
but dark and cold
i promise with them, you can never be alone

the oceans are too wide
for my shaky, achy bones
but i would swim until the days grew thin
to feel your warmth and light,
my sunshine

i remember when i was young
and would connect the freckles
on my mother's leg like it was
a game in one of those silly children's books.
thing's aren't like that anymore...

"why must everything change?"

i'm just a withered flower dying to
know what it's like to finally feel alive.
i want to be home.
my yearn for a placeholder.
this town swallows me whole, willingly.
shocked or overwhelmed.
i bustle underneath my bed only to find childhood memories,
but emerge to something more wishful.
home is but a variable.

i'm left to choose.

short breaths squeezing between
your slightly parted lips unknowingly
harmonize with my nervous heart
and the ticking of the
clock in the hallway.

Take me away from here
I am tired, and weak.
No desire, no drive
no more sparkle in my eye.
Maybe I'll always feel this dead