My step that hurt me.
I fell because the ones who were supposed to help were like you.
I designed a little more differently.
That was big and comfy like whoo!

Please understand this coming from me.
They are the same religion.
They are against me.
I can be as smart as a surgeon.

I understand that we have our differences.
But we are all angels.
Despite what hinders us.
All that stuff that is new leaves us tangled.

Help me please lost here alone.
What can I do.
Give a dog a bone.
With that I ruined you.

Growing up with two fathers.
Now the ones that are supposed to help me do not even bother.
I know all their secrets and all their lies.
I have had nothing but grief from the closest all my life.

Have fun with your lives.
Because I have nothing but pain; stung by the hive.
This is it, I have said what I need to say.
Now it is time to go away.

A love so fragile
That it hurts when I breathe
Shattered memories
Swept by the breeze

A love so scrambled
That it leaves me confused
My heart’s been abused
Black and blue bruised

A love so tangled
That it ends up in knots
A tied-up blood clot
Starting to rot

A love so unraveled
That it loses control
A physical toll
Burnt on my soul

A love so fragile
That is breaks when I try
Starting to know why
I do nothing but cry.

Fingers trace gentle circles
moving like ghosts,
on pale skin.  
Just awake enough now,
to feel your lips write poems.  
Whispered down my spine,
as we lay tangled on the bed-
wishing for now to be forever.

I am Rapunzel,
Up in her tower,
Alienated from the rest
Of the world,
Separated by an invisible line
That I can't cross.
Between the window and the ground,
There lies a barrier,
That even the most charming
Prince can't bridge.
The effort to join the rest
Of the world is too much,
My hair is too short to
Reach the ground, to reach reality.
But aren't I in a
Fantasy world to
Begin with?

You texted me the other day
my phone lit up and
despite there nothing special
set about your ringtone
or about the vibration pattern
attached to your number -
I knew it was you.

Now I’m
chatting with my therapist
about small talk,
tequila, religion
what you mean when
you say you’re ‘over things’
despite having left me months ago.

I leave letters to you attached to
my poems and my work
I doubt you’ll read them -
we haven’t written in a while.

I know it’s wrong -
inviting you over,
but you’ll come to my door and
you can come in quickly before
the people upstairs realise
there’s an unwelcome guest.

I’ll always find myself
tangled in your path,
our lines are forever connected and
our tangled limbs will always
outweigh the mixed messages
in-between my own lines.