broken bones and split lips
are the only things in the world that will ever come close to knowing
how my heart does as the light sets from it
like the most haunting sunset you’ve ever seen,
and you hate it, because it breaks your heart,
but you can’t seem to tear your eyes away.



IT’S 11:39 PM
AND IM TIRED OF LIVING
AND YOU’RE THE OnLY THING
STOPPING ME FROM SWALLOWING THIS BOTTLE OF PILLS
AND

I think maybe they make animal skin drums
from the hides of mental patients
because they don’t really need their skin anyway.

and maybe you’re a fan of sad songs,
because that’s exactly what you are.
maybe they make you cry because you can taste
the hauntingly naked notes in the tears that pool in your eyes from
the surface tension (quiz you failed) and eventually sometimes lose their grip
and slide down you face, caught by the corners of your mouth.
maybe they’re the only thing you listen to
because they


maybe I can only write fragments of poems because I only know fragments of these feelings