I sit down to write
A particular piece
I don't want to keep writing about pain
My muse and I fight
We don't find any peace
My desire buckles under the strain

©2024

the museum of my heart
has a blurry picture of his green eyes
the boy whose I name I never knew

there's a special exhibit
of all the bathrooms I had a breakdown in

there's polaroid pictures hanging
of all the friends I lost through the years
and all the friends who lost me

there's the poetry I wrote about them
words written in red ink and messy handwriting

there's statues of copper and tin
of all the lovers who couldn't love me

there's a constant humming of white noise and lo-fi
echoes of unspoken words I kept and ones I never heard

there's a selection of wingless butterflies
and a collection of blunt pencil sharpener blades

there's a basket of fortune cookies
and every single piece of paper carries the same aphorism:
"amidst the loneliness, the things you loved will forever haunt you."

there's old tv sets and a stack of DVD's
of all the films I wish I'd seen

there's all the skeletons I've hidden
secrets written on napkins and snuck between the wall cracks

there's a brand new guillotine and a golden noose
carefully kept for anyone who tries to hurt me

there's blackberry trees, an open ceiling
and dark splatters covering the ground beneath it

there's a chapel with empty seats and burned bible verses
rose petals and pink, lilac and blue candles
where an altar waits for a future love's mementos

there's a fountain of sweat, blood & tears

there's me standing in the corner
waiting to hand you your ticket and lure you in

there's angels and devils praying that you make it to the end of the tour

DEAR PENPAL PEOPLE, cold bot still bold:)

just a visit
lifts the limits
for the color of blood to become a stranger
now my hopes are all in danger
do I avoid the future be a savior?
do I souvenir the past a cinnamon flavor?
people you knew
not pictures the memory drew
like the bone failed it pains
to sustain
then in blink to be fractured drained
the mirror cries with me
but in my head laughs and mocked screams
now not my territory
maybe a new ceremony
me attending alone
counting stars and skipping stones
am I the weird one?
the dresses on the opposite borders not fitting
on that ferris wheel I stay sitting
the skied view more interesting than the far party track
staring at one piece when the museum is packed


                                                                                 -----ravenfeels