I'm not addicted to you, per say,
I'm addicted the 2 am conversations
Where we talk about nothing but
Everything seems to come out.
I'm addicted to the way your voice cracks
When you're tired and you swear me you're not.
Even though I can hear the hum in your voice and haze in your throat.
I'm addicted to the way your brain twirls on end
When you try and comprehend the things you cannot.
I'm addicted to the way your lungs heave in and out,
And how heavenly you look when you can finally breathe.
No, I'm not addicted to you.
I'm addicted to everything that makes you,
You.

no matter how wide you stretch your fingers, your hands will always be too small to catch all the pain you want to heal. believe me, i’ve tried.

(work in progress)

The first love of my life never saw me naked.
There was always a parent coming home in half an hour,
Always a little brother in the next room.
Always too much body and not enough time for me to show it.

Instead, I gave him my shoulder, my elbow, the bend of my knee.
I lent him my corners, my edges, the parts of me I could afford to offer,
The parts I had long since given up trying to hide.
He never asked for more.

He gave me back his eyelashes, the back of his neck, his palms.
We held each piece we were given like it was a nectarine that could bruise if we weren't careful.
We collected them like we were trying to build an orchard

inspo// w.i.p :-)

She reads and never understands.

Where does she think, exactly, that I'm getting all this inspiration?

I leave myself alone with my mind too much, I think.

Inspiration its a wrido, it appears in the middle of the night, you see it in the eyes of a stranger, in an old man hand, in the middle of ***, in the wake up of a hangover night, in the pooping time, inspiration its a wird Little man that enters when noone asks, and when you call for him he will never arrived
Like a butterfly if you try to reach it it wll be more hard, like a cat if you want to play with it you never know if it wll play or it Will attack.
inspiration is this little strange man that comes and go, inspiriation is such a free man.

***** inspo and thinspo
and online shopping
***** book clubs
and parties
cleaning and mopping
***** whining
and dining
lying and stalking
***** radio hosts
and all their
nonstop talking
***** everything
that ever made me sad
when i’m starving so much
that i think ive gone mad
start a fight cause i’m hungry
it’ll end when i’m not
ask- is this life worth living?
cause it’s all that i got

Recently a poem of mine blew up and I wanted to say thank you all for it!!
The poem Edge was inspired by a writing prompt titled:

Write a poem using the phrase "the sky is on fire"

I came up with the poem from this line, and I wanted to say this because it feels wrong to not credit inspiration and a line to the original creator.

Melissa Jennings Twitter: @melissajenningz came up with the prompt!

So a big thank you to her for the inspo for that poem!!!