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m Jan 29
There is something almost holy in the way that I bite my tongue when I look at you.
Caught halfway between purity and vulgarity.
It seems sacrilegious to speak at all.

Under your gaze, I am too afraid to move,
as if one misstep will lead to a fall.
I know that there is no mercy for sinners here.

And while my heartbeat proves only that I am alive,
the way it burns for you proves to be worth burning for.

I whisper your name like a prayer.
m Jul 2018
They ripped out your heart
using nothing but teeth and tongue
then walked away with it -
****** and fragmented.
Grinning teeth stained with red syrup
that drips from their mouths
like something they could afford to lose.

It's no wonder you
don't trust smiles anymore.
m Oct 2017
We don’t use diaries anymore -
those are meant for secrets,
and we have none.
We let them spill out of our bodies,
and pour onto blank white sheets.
We swear it’s the only way
we are going to heal.

We turn our pain into poetry.
Anything that hurts this much
has to mean
something.
And even though we are desperate
for anyone to listen,
our language is in the letters
that we will never send.

We romanticize pain like it’s the
only lover we will ever know.
Love is our god and we are each our own devils.
Too fragile for this world,
ceremoniously destroying ourselves
before anyone else can do it for us.
Yet we still can’t understand why we’re so broken.
m Oct 2017
I know these must be my hands
but I can’t remember what they do.
And is this a heartbeat
or an attempt to escape a body
that does not feel like my own?
m Oct 2017
It’s hard to find
the truth in the dark.
My thoughts stumble
into others
trying to sort
the real from the fake.
I cannot tell
if the shadows
that are on my wall
are real monsters
or ones of my own creation.
Either way  
I will allow them
to swallow me whole.

While the edges
of the truth blur
you lie next to me.
You are peaceful.
You are silent.
You are motionless.
I want to scream.
I do not have
the courage to ask you
what is real
and what is fake.
I do not have
the courage to
turn on the lights.

— The End —