i dream of
running my hands through
his black curls
but his heart is obsidian
and i am an iron pickaxe

The voices that I used to hate

That berated me, hated me

Filled me with doubt and fears

Depressing, anxious tones

A chorus made of a broken soul

At least those voices of mine

Tell me that they love me still

After what you've left me as

Help me smother these chaotic sparks
you’ve fed, fuelled and let grow
whilst gasping for air, my bleeding heart
submits quietly to your soul.

Why is my mind doing this
Bringing up the past
Thoughts of
You're not getting bored
Are you?
I'm not too much
Am I?
Sorry
I just worry
You're just gorgeous
In my eyes
The only beauty
I crave
To have around
I keep thinking about you
Only to instantly dismiss it
I fear falling for you
I don't wish to get to that point
The point where I fear
Losing you
I don't know
At this point
I feel that
I just want you
To claim me
Make Me Yours...

The quiet ache in the pit
is not only because I want you
but because a part of me recognizes
that it needs you.

Your eyes will never know me
but mine softly glow for you
as undying emeralds
cut from your light.

I have played this game before.
My accolades adorn the walls.
This pull-push dance is tiring.

This time,
when I see myself
being pulled into the whirlpool—
I let it.

Drown me, baby.
Show me how love works.

I’ll wait for the little things:
the stolen glances,
the awkward silence.

I hope you are the other end,
your arms stretched out.
I want to run to you
and tell our daughter:

This is what love is.

I will tell her—
someday, a man will come.
And when you set out
to write about sorrow,
you will smile,
thinking of his warmth.

I knew the ways you wanted me to love you
I knew all the languages of love between us
The touching, the actions, the words, emotions
I knew how that spark felt between our hearts
I knew how to whisper those words to your soul
Unfortunately, I wish I knew the languages or actions
That could have made you stayed