Drip, drip, drip.
As my skin starts to rip.
The past seems to fade
with a two-sided blade.

A thin, sharp metal aid
for the mistakes I’ve made.
Was once glad we met,
now dying of regret.

Two things flow
As I think of us both.
Tears from my eyes
and blood from each glide.

Drip, drip, drip.
the next sad song I skip.
Every ballad I hear,
just adds another tear.

How can I move on?
How can I forget?
I’m having a relapse
and recovery isn’t close yet.

I won't ask you,
‘cause I know what is true.
“I love you” is what you’d say,
and “Sorry, but not in that way.”

when you’ve traced
every corner of my body
and have felt
the brittleness of my bones
—and when you’ve brushed
your fingers
through every inch
of my skin,
promise me
you won’t break me

when you’ve bit my lips
and find it bleeding
know that I’m vulnerable to your lies

and when you’ve kissed my tears
and find my eyes lost
know that I’m fragile to your touch

All that is gold does not glitter,

Not all those who wander are lost;

The old that is strong does not wither,

Deep roots are not reached by the frost.

From the ashes a fire shall be woken,

A light from the shadows shall spring;

Renewed shall be blade that was broken,

The crownless again shall be king.

your facade
will fade.
despite the splendor
of its ornamented
exterior,
in time,
it will crumble
and appear
to be
the wreckage
it had
always been
from the
very start.
this manufactured
structure
with shallow
foundations
and over adornment
cannot stand tall
for long.
one day,
these pillars
will turn into ruins,
burying
you
and all your
falsities
along with its rubble.