There's always a tipping point,
a space where you reside
when the balance is nearly equal,
but not quite.
You're on the edge of the blade,
and all it would take
was a whisper of a breeze
to tip the scale to one side.

There are so many things
that are constantly slipping
from my fingers.
As much as I reach
and lunge
and grab for them,
they always manage to escape me.

Even when I think things
are going well,
the slightest change
movement
of anything
can shake me to my core.

An earthquake
is ripping through my world
and I'm not sure if I can
hang on long enough
to make it.

There's an emptiness inside me
that hasn't ever been filled
and I have always ignored it
pushed it back
starved that wanting in me.

There are things that
I can't think about
truths about me and my life
that would utterly break me
if I looked too close.
I have to keep them sealed
keep those things
away.
They keep surfacing
keep bubbling up
trying to be seen.
Flinching will mean
acknowledging them
but their noise is nearly unbearable.

I needed you
to have more faith in me
to believe in me
more than I did.
I never thought I was good enough
never thought I was worthy
but I always tried.
I always tried my hardest
to be what I should
to do what you wanted.

It was never enough.
Nothing was enough.
Your disappointment
is cracking me apart
your judgement
and criticism
is breaking me.
I know the truth, and I can't help but wish
I had never learned it.
I always thought that honesty
was everything
but I almost would have rather
you lied.

I can't stand this.
Being around you
having to pretend that
I don't know.
That I'm fine.
I can't talk to you
I can't trust you
I can't do anything.

If I acknowledge this pain
will it take away my last shred of resolve?
Will it shatter me into a million pieces
incapable of being picked up
and put back together?
Will I learn and grow from the truth?

I'm not sure I'm willing to find out.

Trigger Warning* depictions of ****** assault

Beach sands
peeling off a swimsuit
a wet slap
not quite drenched to the bone
yet still a burden
how it sits heavy on the tongue
a humid storm
inside you
heaviness in the prison of my ******
I am trying to pull up my *******
after my friend ***** me
in December
and I'm thinking of how everyone I love
has once hurt me
'moist' is the sound
of his fingers slipping inside me
I am closing my eyes
as the cotton of his shirt clings to my bare legs
and I am thinking that all the wetness must have
teeth
especially the wetness that grows within
and spills out
or chews its way through the skin
and falls onto another's
the night I was *****
everyone laughed
until the walls were moist
until it rained indoors
I say moist
and first, think about two naked bodies
the sound their skin makes
when I try to fight him off
underneath a hungry moon
in a house of warm heat
I saw moist
and think of his tongue against me
the bullet in his brain as I curse him
on a cold December night
the room
my *******
a dark red
I say moist
as in
my own blood spilling in my white ******* moist
or
his fingers moist as he pounded into me
so hard I bled
or my eyes moist when
I told my Momma what that boy had done to me
it felt like winter for ten years.

My words are a guillotine
and you willfully put your head
underneath it.
I know ******* you.
It'd be so easy.
A simple word here
a phrase there
and I'd destroy you.
Leave you doubting yourself
doubting me
and feeling guilty for it.

My hands touch you
make you plead for more.
I want to freeze sometimes
to just stop.
Maybe even to leave.
I want to leave your wondering
what you did wrong.
I want to break your heart.
Because this is what I do.
I leave things, people,
in pieces.

Only once in a blue moon
do I wish to destroy
to break
to shatter.

Sometimes,
it's not you I want to hurt
it's me.
I want to destroy myself
from the inside out.
That includes hurting you
beyond repair.
If I make you hate me
I'll have no reason not to hate myself.

You know when you're holding
something precious
like life in your hands
say
a frog
and you have the fleeting thought
to crush it between your fingers?
That's what it feels like.

That's what this feelng is,
isn't it?
Just a small thing
destined to go away.
I don't realy
wholeheartedly want to hurt you
or anyone or anything
really
I don't.

I just want to know
what you'd say
what you'd do
if I could ever make you cry
If I could completely break you.

Part of me
knows how wrong this is
how I shouldn't be wonderng about this
that wanting to **** something
or destroy it's spirit or heart
probably makes me a sociopath
but I'm not sure if I care.

I want to be compared
to a black hole.
I want to make everyone hate me
see how ugly I really am.

I want you to wish you'd never met me.

Self-destruction is a terrible thing,
isn't it?
When you've got nothing left
and you're all on your own
you have no means to go on.

I wish I didn't have you by my side,
but then again,
I never want you to leave.

I wish to God I could be taken
from this earth
but I want to stay with you forever.

Baby tell me
I'm okay.
That I'm not insane.
That you'll love me no matter what.
Because I'm scared of what I'm capable of.

I'm scared of hurting you
purposely or otherwise.

This guillotine
doesn't want your head
to be there.
It wishes you would move,
save yourself.
Pull away.

But you don't.
You stay in the blades path.
And as it goes down
so does my heart.

I wasn't created to destroy.

I must have loved you
in another life
because when I see you
when I hear you
when I hold you
it feels like coming home.
I only feel like myself around you.
When my hand is in yours
it's familiar and safe,
like I've known your soul
since the beginning of time,
through every life I've lived
and all the lives I have yet to experience.
Maybe that's why
my love for you
is infinite.

My love for you just can't
be put into words.
Words are just letters
scrambling to fall into place
to tell a story
but your laugh is already
an adventure through
galaxies undiscovered.
Your eyes are oceans
filled with treasures
from years of shipwrecks
and heartache.
Your heart, pounding
120 beats per minute:
we slowly edge closer,
our hands tingling as we touch
and the energy courses through us,
sing melodies in a language
only we know.
Words are just letters
trying to become
something beautiful
but you are already
more beautiful
than any letter could have hoped
to be.

Physical intimacy has its limits,
you know.
I can only learn so much from
pushing into each others mouths,
from grasping hands,
sharp breaths.
I don't care about the intimacy.

I care about
holding you
seeing what it would be like
to hold your hand.
I want you to want me too,
in every way possible.
I want to be the reason you smile
until your cheeks hurt.
I want to spend as many moments
as possible with you.

I don't care about ***.
I just want your mouth on mine
for every goodnight,
good morning,
goodbye,
hello
kiss.
I want you in the most
innocent, purest way.

When I was little
I was told that rain
was the tears of angels.
How much pain must they be in
to create a storm such as this?
The lightning their sobs,
thunder their raging breaths,
hot tears turned cold as they fall to the ground
down on their knees
eyes ******* shut
throat burning as they wail.
What must have happened
to those perfect,
beautiful creatures?
Were they staring down at the world
watching as we
pillage and ****
****** and steal
lie and cheat?
Listening to us scream
in anger
or pain
or frustration?
Tuning in to the thoughts
of our broken youth
hearing them hate
and hurt themselves
till they're covered in scars
that will never fade?
The hurricane never waves
flood rising crashing like ocean waves
wind torturing nature around it.
The trees creak and sway
as the angels mourn.
The world around them
finally reflects the conflictions
in their heads.