More than in passing I almost thought "maybe I should apologize for leaving,"

but life is leaving, and I’m sorry to have lead you otherwise,

I violently grow apart from everyone that matters, because the solitude feeds me and I am sick,

do not try to decipher this in a rational way, like I am in love with rain, then when it’s over, I am in love with the strange blankness.

I play Russian Roulette with ingenuity and always lose and convince everyone I am not a corpse,

only pretending to be,
only waiting
for my chance to be alive again.

I can only find it in me to keep going when the night is louder than my grasp on reality.

Late at night if you catch me and let my thorns find your veins,

you’ll find the heart I’ve patched up and surrounded with briar because I’m sick of being broken,

you’ll find my scars and the places I’ve stitched together with my own sinew,

this is where I’ll love you with hurricane walls, the fury of a tempest at your command,

if you find me here I’ll give you my whole being with a fierceness that would break a mother’s heart.