a couple days ago
i tried to **** myself
by ingesting a handful of
different pretty pills
in the hopes
they'd make me
a pretty corpse
i thought maybe
they'd plant roots
in my stomach
and grow flowers
out of my eye sockets
but then i realized
those pretty pills
would ****
not only me
but the ones who already
saw flowers growing
in the darkest parts
of me

I must be taller than 5'2 allows,
Because I lay on the floor
While my head's in the clouds.

I must be made to live in the night,
I see beautiful worlds
With my eyes shut tight.

593

I think I was enchanted
When first a sombre Girl—
I read that Foreign Lady—
The Dark—felt beautiful—

And whether it was noon at night—
Or only Heaven—at Noon—
For very Lunacy of Light
I had not power to tell—

The Bees—became as Butterflies—
The Butterflies—as Swans—
Approached—and spurned the narrow Grass—
And just the meanest Tunes

That Nature murmured to herself
To keep herself in Cheer—
I took for Giants—practising
Titanic Opera—

The Days—to Mighty Metres stept—
The Homeliest—adorned
As if unto a Jubilee
’Twere suddenly confirmed—

I could not have defined the change—
Conversion of the Mind
Like Sanctifying in the Soul—
Is witnessed—not explained—

’Twas a Divine Insanity—
The Danger to be Sane
Should I again experience—
’Tis Antidote to turn—

To Tomes of solid Witchcraft—
Magicians be asleep—
But Magic—hath an Element
Like Deity—to keep—

There's something beautiful about freckles and blemishes and imperfections before I'm made up in the morning. There's something right about naked in the mirror; flaws and scars and age that accumulates with the years. I am a story to be read. I've got skin like a song.

I don't want to cry
but I can feel the tears.
The words pierced my heart
as they fell from your mouth.

Anger spewed from my soul
as you sprouted an apology.
Those words were too late
they shouldn't have been needed.

But you chose to break me
the cracks are visible to the world.
I try on a smile, it's too fake
I try out a laugh, it's too weak.

I missed you before the words
but this fault has made me loathe.
You can't take them back
and I can't forget them.

more tears cried
less hours slept
more blood spilt
less food intake
more dark shadows
less bright eyes

is this all i am anymore?
a pathetic state of
depression?

i don't know what
was worse, a
broken heart i was able
to blame on my love.
or a broken soul
that was deformed
to begin with.