Around the corner,
here comes Valentine's Day; the
day I shoot myself

i. He takes at least five breaks for fuel
And four breaks to ***
He strolls in a half hour early
To eat alone in peace

ii. His walk has a cadence
An enlightened stride
Like he’s never late
And always unwind

iii. He is seemingly not bothered
By minor inconveniences
He does not mind when I
Apologize for obstructing his path

iv. Sometimes he says goodbye
Sometimes he does not
Sometimes I say hello,
Sometimes, I cannot

Please, oh please
can you spare a drop
of the liquid flowing through you,
dripping down your sweet ****?

I am quite parched
I’ve been barren for months
Please can I drink in
your billowy lumps?

Pour into my crevasse
Make me bloom with life
Moisturize the cracks I’ve earned
from loneliness and strife

I’m a desolate island
desperate for nature’s touch
but too far from land
for one shower to be enough

I dip my head
to avert your eyes
every time we pass
I hold my breath
to prevent from speaking
and proving myself an ***
I pretend I know
what you think of me,
that I’m strange and unappealing
I fear I’ve blown
any chance at knowing you
and sharing these feelings

I was raised well and right--
kind, loving, and bright--
but I do not glow
nor drink in light,
for this world I know
teems with walking plight--
preying on silent sighs
cracking loony smiles,
leaking crimson through
pearl bones baring
unfathomable truths

One lesson I've learned
from this congested city
is to remain optimistic
Bathe in the cold
that is the shoulder turned
Keep your eyes wide
so they dry faster when burned
and your cheeks glisten like
the dance of water's reflection

Seethe with laughter
under our calm,
cratered companion
Bleed placid volumes
of heightened reality
and inject the poison
of furrowed brows and
whimpering pleas into
every failed attempt
at hiding your shadows cast
by the foreboding full moon
Be what's been shining
towards a better you

When it rains it pours,
and when your frame
plays through the reel
behind my glossy eyes
there’s bound to be a storm.

I grow weary of dreaming
I’m floating on highs
exhausting every last one
of these stifled sighs

You’re the breath
caught in my sore throat
scratching and suffocating
I’ll hold my breath so I may choke

You never listened when I spoke

Encased in a box
is the magic of Christmas
none could manage out.

There is a cold chill
throughout this house without lights
and the smell of pine.