that’s how it feels, then
to love and be loved and lose it-
to experience the highest feeling,

to fall so hard you lose every breath, to be so hurt you feel certain you’ll die

i can’t do this
i can’t bear this
it’s too little and not that long ago it was so... so much more

so much more than hollow eyelids and numbing cello chords

in this moment i know, i believe i’ll never be fine again
in this moment i’m the rawest i’ve ever been
my screams and sobs are the ugliest sounds

i hope you never have to hear desperation leaving your mouth

but I do hope you get to experience the kind of love that has the power to wreck you

just remember to pray it doesn’t

Sometimes, I am a paper girl.
I look in the mirror
To judge my blotches and creases-
I am a pale, thin tissue
That bows to the howling wind
Transparent for anyone who cares enough to look.

If you like pretty pictures, I'm the one for you-
A roll of film scratching laughs
On curious cinema screens
That could run into infinity
Just to fuel your smile.

I soak up your messes willingly:
All the colours that bleed and mix
To form the specks of sadness
In your eyes at 10.p.m
And the grass stains that roll
Down your bare gypsy feet
And the sunflower seeds
That stick to your inky lashes-
These things give an echo of the flavour
I miss.

I am vain
I regularly conjure up poetry on my skin-
Do not give me yours.
I will recite it to my last paper breath
So I can kid myself that paper is power.

I am not the phantom you teach to play piano
Under the helter-skelter moon,
I am far too fragile for that-
My paper cut fingers bend
And bleed light all over the keys.

My hands are a canvas
For anyone's ***** details
For if enough titles are painted on my body then perhaps
I will learn the complex trick
Of gaining depth

And maybe the world will look as full
And real as I read in books
And dance with in music
And maybe my edges will stop being ripped
Or my corners cut
Or my pages burned and tossed aside.

Sometimes, I am this tiny
Vulnerable
Origami creature
And my cream card bones tremble like feathers
A bad caricature of life.

Sometimes I am full of wonder-

But right now, I am this.

The broken hunch back
Yellow, wrinkled, and withered with age
Not a single fraction of his formerly radiant youth remaining
Choughs up a few more
Words to throw on a page
Desperate to rack up more followers
...

It’s sad sometimes how desperate I can be
But what’s even sadder is-
Enough
CUT OUT THE POINTLESS SELF DEPRICATION

deep down i talked to myself
why don't you just marinade me with your love
rise your skin
to the light of your love

ring-ding-****
sing me a song
serenade a rage knowledge
and play with the message

this sanctuary has been spoken
somebody has to get out of here
though neither of us can