no one gifted me
this insane personality
I own it on my own

I hate where it takes me
to places I don't want to be
leaving parts of me
that should have been alone

Except it seems to be stiched
upon my lips
weaved by my fingertips
it's sewn inside my pocket
Stitches that itch
every time I breathe
I wish someone would pick
apart the grief that it brings
tightly stiched inside the woven

Oh how you could read me
in sign language that could swear
in the interim of lips not moving
could we just dance?

Bodies that bump in the night
shake a world so fragile
it would shatter
Pale crescent moonlight
seeks a perfect light
expelling it's sigh into
**Dark Matter