Regret is no game of chess;
The more you lose, the worse you get.

Insecurity

breeds like vines

hugging the

parts of me

I try to set

free.

you are an
exfoliant;
coarse and fine
you scrape me raw
painfully
but in the end
your sharp cuts
hide an ointment
and my soul
thanks me for you;
for this change,
a renewal,
healing after
necessary
destruction
(out with the dead,
in with the new)

be still as stereo,
so you can peep the wilting filigree
of the blooming expanse
we rarely ever care to choke on.

breathe is a question
whispered by oceans and i use
it coax this **** out of
lotus seeds.

why?