You wanted
to have your
cake and eat it too
well honey
take a bite
I am spiked

Strawberry frosting
can be deceiving

One day,
I will write a book
He'll claim it is about him
“Why couldn't you get over me?”
“Why are you still stuck in the past? This was years (months, days, minutes) ago”.

I’ll say it's about how you made me feel,
How you left me.
How you broke me,
Then made me pick up the pieces.
How you ****** me,
Told me you loved me.
Choked identical words out of me.
Deserted me.

I wrote a book about loving someone despite everything he had done to me.
Encompassing me
Hurting me.
Not him.

racist man with orange skin as if tanning beds are not just an excuse for us to pretend like we've got more melanin

The monster boy ATE her soul

And tore her I  n  t  o

                           Pieces

I'm proud to say that I figured out
Where the corner piece is
That fills out that puzzle
Of a blood red farm, with a haystack,
And a glistening sun.
A life we only see in loathing.
A shelf too high
For our stubby arms
To reach.

A table covered with chase
And playing cards
Plays the gatekeeper
For stories I've never heard before.
Blank cheques and white space.
Room for error
Room for improvement.

Shallow gold doesn't exist
And its never worth much anyway.
Whats real lies far
Under the mud.
And if you find it
You dont let it go.