Yeah
I get it
You're a princess in your robe ball gown
With your boyfriend across the states
Dancing a waltz with you
In some stupid ballroom
And you're so in love
You've decided to get married
With blessings from the parents
There are doves in the air
Practically
But then you fight in the bathroom
Then make up twenty minutes later
Your life is hard
You and your prince
Dancing in a ballroom

Bought your wildflower seed
Sowed it
Into my heart
Watered it everyday
With your soul smile
With our silly songs
& silly fights
With the thought of our hands entangled
With the memory of your deep eyes speaking to my eyes
With the remains of your touch of lips onto mine

But you left
And I still water it everyday
With the flood of tears
With my pen painting my diary red
With the imprints of your smile on my soul
With your fiery passion of gold
With the part of you living inside me
With the wounds that never can be healed
Only scar me

Aware of what it will do to me
I still water it everyday
Knowing it will only grow into ****.

I have kissed boys

Girls

People in between

But lately I have been kissing bottles

Their lips are colder than yours

But slowly I have realized that the pounding headache when I wake is less hurtful than the shattering in my chest

Yet as these toxins rush through my veins

I can't help but miss the tracing of your fingers along my skin

Miss the numbness of the world when you lie with me

But when I wake I remember that a headache is treated with an aspirin

While heartache

Well if you have a cure for Heartache let me know

It’s really hard to admit
that maybe
what I’m feeling for you,
is nothing
compared to the feelings you have
for her,
and I swear to God,
I wish
more than anything in this world
that I was
the girl you feel a million things for.

i act like deleting texts
means deleting feelings

but i think i'm just avoiding them.

never trust a poet's words
they sound sweet at first
but you'll notice the emotion in their words
it all sounds too...
fake
"i love you like the sea loves the shore"
becomes too scripted
you hear the small tinge of love actually left in their voice
hoping
hoping it could mean something
but it doesn't
it never does
it's just the way they say it
one day, after they have left
you will find their poems, and they will be the exact words that they had said to you
once long ago

I crave your mouth, your voice, your hair.
Silent and starving, I prowl through the streets.
Bread does not nourish me, dawn disrupts me, all day
I hunt for the liquid measure of your steps.

I hunger for your sleek laugh,
your hands the color of a savage harvest,
hunger for the pale stones of your fingernails,
I want to eat your skin like a whole almond.

I want to eat the sunbeam flaring in your lovely body,
the sovereign nose of your arrogant face,
I want to eat the fleeting shade of your lashes,

and I pace around hungry, sniffing the twilight,
hunting for you, for your hot heart,
like a puma in the barrens of Quitratue.