She leans into the petals,
skin dissolving into soft color,
the green veins of leaves brushing her arms
as if they have always known her.

His voice, a thread of dusk,
winds around her wrists,
pulling without force,
settling in the quiet space
between her ribs.

Her breath, uneven,
presses against his mouth,
a drowning in tenderness,
a weight both unbearable and light.

She does not resist.
She does not speak.
She simply disappears
where the flowers open.

It's a thought that plagues my mind at odd hours of the night
Running on loop behind muffled sobs
Looking but never finding an answer
I must have done something awful, horrendous, obscene to deserve it
It had to be my fault
Why else would those thing happen?

Then I stood across from you
My mind aflame
Searching for something, anything that could explain 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴

A little blue hand-me-down Keurig

Why?
It's just an object, basic machinery sold to the masses
They're so common
And yet I could even comprehend how it was sitting right in front of me

This isn't right
I'm a poet
A musician
A painter
An artist
My entire purpose is to understand and create something better than myself from that understanding
I'm known for my long winded detailed tangents that explain exactly what I'm feeling
But I just 𝘤𝘢𝘯'𝘵
It doesn't make sense
Why can't I make sense of it?
Why can such a small thing evade me?

I suppose history repeats itself
When I kept staring at that beautiful piece of houseware with watery eyes one thing kept coming to mind
What did I do to deserve this?
Nothing answered
How am I supposed to leave it to the unknown?
It's wrong
It's not what I'm made for
I just-
Why?

I named him Drizzle
It’s dorky as hell, but I think it suits him
It is part of his basic functions after all
To lazily brew a warm mug of coffee as everything happens around him
He could never understand the half of it
I don't think he even knows where he is
But he still happily goes about such a simple task
Nothing else matters

There's another meaning to his name
More depressing, to be sure
But I think it gives him more character
You know how it's thought that rain is a deity sobbing?
So anguished that it shows its inner turmoil to all?
As I cried, hearing the pitter patter of rain on the pavement outside
Far heavier than a drizzle, but I digress
I thought of that
And I couldn't help but think that sometimes we were wrong
It wasn't suffering, for me at least, but raw confusion and happiness and amazement
Over something so small that meant so much

You said that when you bought him, you wanted him in blue because it was a happy color
And you're right
It is a happy color
A hell of one at that
That's why I named him Drizzle
Because I was so overjoyed that I let tears flow down my cheeks like rivers
And maybe I'll never understand him
Maybe I will
I don't know if it even matters what context he exists by
Maybe he just needs to be exactly who he is
And nothing more
Why do I have to find purpose when I don't need it to love him?

I think that's my answer
Nothing and everything at once
I don't think I have to try to understand when there isn't anything to understand
Maybe my fear of the unknown is completely unfounded
Sometimes the unknown is okay

I don't think I could receive a more meaningful gift
There were some that I never thought could be topped
But they were
By that little blue hand-me-down Keurig
And I have to thank you
For everything really
But right now, it's for completely changing the meaning of a question I have been asking myself for years
What did I do to deserve this?

I never thought
This day would come
That I'd find someone
I'd always love
You strolled right in
And Smiled
As you held up the key
To my once locked heart
Looking up
At the sky tonight
I feel so peaceful
Knowing
That you looked up
At the same beautiful moon
I love you, my Rose.

My Rose
I know it can be hard
Stumbling in the dark
Things swirling
All around
You wilt
For a rose needs light to live
So take my hand
And I will be the light
I will be the sunshine to your rose

i just want the
bleeding to stop

my body to realize
it’s fine and it doesn’t
need to do this
it’s only hurting itself

all i see is
blood

it’s not the cut
that hurts the most
it’s the sting of
regrets that follows

so many
types
so many
shades
i’m so
tired of it

blood
more
and more
blood

why do i
do this

why do i
do this

WHY DO I
DO THIS

i don’t want
to live anymore
it hurts too
much now

too much
blood
just make it
stop

but i’m the
one who got
into this mess
how do i expect
it to stop while
i stand by?

look what
you’ve done now
do you feel
any better?

i didn’t think so
a sinking ship
that you keep
climbing back on

but for ten minutes
the fog in my
head cleared
as i watched the blood

bubble to the
surface and
run down my leg
forgot all the bad
things the bad
thoughts as it dripped

but i’m tired
of blood
so tired
i want it to end