she is a rare, delicate flower and you are the only one who knows about her. you are the only one who can protect her.

You once called me a delicate flower. But you've forgotten that roses have thorns.

The smallest flakes of hope
That shine like little stars
Are floating from the heavens.
As they land on my pale skin
They begin to melt away
Back into their liquid form.
I am so cold, but so are they.
How can they melt on me?
It's odd how such fragile crystals
Can create such a deadly storm.

Chipped nails and ripped tights,
she is delicate and mysterious and beautiful,
but still so dead inside.

You;
you prey on pretty things.
Damaging innocent bows
and precious curls.
Dainty,
delicate,
*****.
You;
you ruin her.

The wind slowly, but swiftly swaying
Against the petals of the pale lilac flower,
Beautiful yet fragile, only praying
For the storm to pass over the tall towers
Of the frightening city.
Its stem crawling closer and closer to its breaking point
As the water flows towards the river's edge; pity
On the sun's glory and shine. Disjointing
The flower's yellow belly from its furrowing leaves
As its life withers away, taken from the nature of thieves.

Neither standing on any pillar;
Nor fastened with any rope;
But this world is hanging;
On delicate strings of hope.

it crushes my chest

every new moment 

that you aren’t with me

but to push something so delicate

would only cause it to crumble

I want you so badly

it’s almost violent 

but I will lie here and wait

for another chance to reach out

and feel the hair rise on your arm