seated on the back
of your motorcycle,
I held onto you
a little too tight.

you laughed
at my fear.

but what you didn't know
was that I wasn't afraid
of letting go and falling
and hurting myself.

I was afraid because
for my whole life,
letting go of things meant
never seeing them again.

I was afraid that
if I loosened my grip,
you would drive away
and you would be gone.

injuries are temporary
and skin always heals,
but sometimes
heartbreak doesn't.

I wasn't afraid
of broken bones
or bloodied clothes.

I was afraid
of losing you

because I knew
that losing you would
hurt far worse than
scrapes and bruises.

There are
corners for
open secrets
as in
a dream

Adolescence
cast
in long
brutal
shadows
by a waning
midday
light

Scents
of bound
whispers
echoing
through
the stacks

The promise
of fantasy
in reality
amid the
fading
week's
end

There’s this story
In my head
Where I lock my heart up
Tight
And you try every key
And can’t get in despite
How hard you try
To let me know
We are meant to be together.
That story is just sweeter
Than not loving me
Forever.

                     -L. Frost

They asked so how are you living without him..?
And I replied:
with those lovable texts, those unforgettable memories, and remembering those insane feeling of touch.

I try not to define myself.
Spoken in a way that my story hasn’t already been written.
The hope that my story is not in existence before me.
That there’s still time to catch the beginning between two crisp pages.
Fresh ink that still smears off the edges.
Tearing out the pages until I get it right.
A story re-written so many times I am unsure of how it ends.

I have the
Uncanny ability
To manufacture misery
In my head
Like it’s my job.
The words dance like
Madness
  down my body.
Until I am forced
To release their
Fury
Between my wet,
       dripping
               Thighs.

                         -L.Frost