you held my trust
like a glass in your hands—then you crushed it,



and blamed me for the blood



dripping down your fingers.

Her hear like glass,
Broken of course.
Her skin like paper,
Cuts so smoothly.
Her mind like thorns,
It hurts to think.
Her eyes like rain,
For it never stops pouring.
Her soul on fire,
Because she burns inside.

i can hear them now -those sirens, those bells,
and all the girls in our uniforms, hollow and brave,
and how we sometimes feel so alive, and sometimes so, so tired,
those ones who ask questions, and the ones who just leave,
and we’re both of those and we’re so brave,
and i think our eardrums are going to break.

every night, pick me up and we’ll go home,
but oh wait sweetheart, we can’t because we’re so young and so ******* busy.
like i said -i’m dying but i’ve never felt more alive, more happy,
or more tired. life has never been like this
-and i love these dreams, because right now they're blowing my way
did i also mention i love you?
i love you.

you know, you know, each hug is fragile,
broken glass shattering and putting itself back and becoming beautiful,
and thats me. you’re all soft words, and eyes like mine but all the more cunning,
but you’re braver than you know, and you’re a mystery.
and with every touch, i think of what would happen if we were hungrier,
that maybe, if we were hungrier we’d solve that mystery,
or i’d solve you.

always, always so worried. too worried to make a masterpiece,
but somehow you say i’ve made masterpieces of words, and i’m waiting for yours,
but i think you’re unlucky, because even though i’m so afraid of my muses,
they drive my hands, my brushes, my pens, these things that make you softly open your mouth,
and oh how i want to trace those lips. i wonder if you want to trace some other girl’s lips.
because there is no way you love me the way i might love you.
if i love you. i’m so lost in this.

more than anything, i think, i’d want something for myself.
so many muses, so many friendships, so many lovely people,
but yet all i want is only another kind of love. your kind. because you know what we could be?
every night, i’m trying to spend more and more time with you.
and if we were ever next to each other, i’d like to hold hands and gaze at the stars with you.
oh no -i’ve said too much. i wish with all my heart (futilely?) that you know who you are,
please tell me.

and these sirens keep sounding in my head, and i’m wondering if i’m losing my life,
because we should have each other, at those games, with those hollow brave girls,
with those dancers, and alone to dance to our own songs, and in our words.
we’d write each other, or perhaps you’d draw me, i’ve always wanted that.
anyway, this is just another schoolgirl’s dream becaue she should be focusing
-but she knows she needs something to do other than focus, someone to love,
and right now, it’s you.

I didn't ask to be made so sensitive
to have days where words feel like they can bruise me
or looks can cut right through me
I didn't mean to be born with skin as fragile as porcelain
and a heart made of glass
if a small bump can break me,
with one slip I would shatter

And I have died
softly
a million deaths -
drowning,
bleeding,
choking.
And yes, I remembered you.
I have found you
in the pictures,
in the screams
of broken tables
in the ghosts
and in the glass ceilings...
You were with me
every time
I died.

What goes on in your glowing head
when you sit in front of your harp
eyes wide shut your fingers thread
and pluck, syncing with our heart

the way you majestically play
fills my ears with angelic tones
stunned, I can't look away
from your heavenly flowing bones

Harp forged from Hephaestus' gold
pluck and pick easy as a river's flow
soft harmonies of Philip Glass enfold
and just for a moment, forgotten woes

I guess there is that
kind of beauty
in this world;
when the flawed
and broken shards
are picked up
and pieced together.

Though it sometimes  
require bleeding cuts
and punctured hands..

..it's all worth it.