Red lipped and soft spoken,
the world is kind to girls like me.
But we are dark eyed and dark minded
and our quiet mouths are burning.

I hide beneath
the ocean's waves;
cursed to always be the tide,
never to be the moon.

I read something somewhere once and it went something like this:
“Love is the opposite of power. That’s why it makes us so uncomfortable.”

Well, I’m not much good at love
But I’m good at surrendering
And lucky for me,
Most people can’t tell the difference.

A collage of sheets and skin;
I breathe my poetry into your bones,
And you paint my shoulders with kisses.

Neurotic girls make terrible wives,
But fantastic lovers.

Summer days go like cigarettes.
One after another
and another
and another.

Gone.

I wish I could sink into the moss
And stay seventeen forever.

I can’t buy myself any more time
So I suppose I’ll buy myself another pack.

If only I could figure out why
Every single beautiful thing I see
Makes me so unbearably sad.

And I just keep remembering
All those times I felt so dead
I truly wondered if I was a ghost.

The little things don’t resurrect me like they used to.

How low does six feet down really feel?

I’ve been feeling rather lonely again
And I’ve returned to my old ways,
Trying to find company in my own words
But it seems I have nothing to say anymore.