whatever we think we have
is destructive

they say opposites attract
but what they don't say is
damage seeks out damage

we both know this is temporary
we'll never gonna choose each other

we are asymptotes
staying close to each other;
would never gonna cross the line
or would we?

maybe we're perpendicular lines
we'd cross the line
once
but that's it
or is it?

maybe we're each other's point b
each other's end point
but i doubt that

I think I know what we are
We are black splats
or stains hiding
in each other's blind spots

we see each other
when we want to

hide each other
when we want to

and I am tired
of being your temporary cure
because healing you
is like alcohol
it kills me but gets me addicted
makes me miserable yet happy
healing you is like being offered
space cakes
no matter how hard i try
to convince everyone it's harmless, it destroys
it builds me up
then lets me down
makes me feel everything then nothing at all

i don't know how it happened
all of a sudden then all at once

we both know this won't last
please erase me
wash the stain
open both your eyes
let go

whatever we think we have
let it die

---

let This die
but dont forget

we'll stay close
enough to keep each other warm
but not too much to let each other burn

I love the grass
I love the green
Despite the grueling pain
I mean

Especially how it smells
To watch it rise
To feel the sharp stinging itch
In and around my eyes

Yes.
Spring has come in rapid succession
Full speed ahead, with flawless progression
Filling me, with nasal congestion

So yeah.
Sure.
I Love The Grass

I don't want to imagine you and her
hands intertwined
walking together in the dark concrete jungle
while I'm left alone on these cold dirt roads.

I can't imagine how you could ever
love a girl like me
that looks upon your past
with such jealousy.

And you wouldn't imagine
how one look in those eyes
makes me gravitate towards you
and forget those times
when you were
with her.

Be careful*
when you hold my hand.
Please?
As much as my winter-bitten lips refuse to say

"I am fragile."

Don't worry, spring will kiss them.

Between my wrist and fingertips, bear a gossamer web of time's sewing, see that criss-cross there, yes, it's still mending.

Little threads of fine, fine alchemy.

Above all, be very careful & wide-eyed
with my heart.

The space between my ribs and my white heart painted red
bears
old, old scars
that never quite
closed
to
s l e e p.

Creased memories still peek-a-boo here & there
before
threads and thin lines of time seam them away.

It is scary, I know.

But, I promise,
I'll do the same for you, sweet-heart.