I am lost.
Yet,
Something is telling me you are just like me.
Maybe
We were put in the darkness
To find each other.

she claimed that she was sadness
but i never understood why

in my eyes,
she was a firework display on repeat

she was a sky of infinite stars
and even when i knew it was impossible, i couldn't help but name each one    

she was the feeling of a heart beating,
the song i could never stop singing,
my lungs filling with air
only to have my breath taken
    
and she was cautious,
always careful with me
like the way she was
with her favourite novel

and i tell her that i didn't mind
having wears and tears
i didn't mind being folded
i didn't mind having
my spine broken

because i was hers
and i didn't mind being
an open book

but she was always so tender

and i loved her so much that
i didn't mind the dusk
that accompanied her dawn
because both were beautiful

she was beautiful

so when she said she was sadness
i didn't understand

but if it was true and
if this is what it is like
to be sad,

i never want to be happy again

I wanted to write a poem about flowers, so that's what I did.
It was short, expressed how I feel, and cut like glass.
I showed my father "Flowers" and he thought it was mediocre.
And I said, "No, "Mediocre" is the poem where I talk about dying,
and I'm trying to stay alive, so I wrote about flowers."

Flowers strangling soil plots with their roots, with their existence.
And to hurt something you love with your existence is a terrible feeling.

we've ran this marathon before, love
don't let me trip