I'm at the point now where even the weight of air on my skin hurts.

And life may be cruel,
her dark branches twisted and gnarled and hard,
her roots turning the earth over in its slumber, cold veins in viridescent sea,
her tree fruitless and barren,
brittle bark that flakes from her obsidian centre,

but underneath her coal shell,
there is nectar and sap and gold,
and it will satiate your hunger,
if you can stay long enough to taste it.

It's a mountain by now.
Plate upon plate upon bowl,
stacked higher than physics should allow,
all stained a slightly different colour of neglect.

Cutlery balance on the rim of ***** mugs
that sour the air around them.
I feel guilty when I add to their misshapen brethren, commit another utensil to its graveyard.

And yet still,
  I watch it build and I wait,
        morbidly,
for it
     to come
  crashing
    down.

I want to flow from my own fingertips,
hang in the air, a final chord.
I want to break apart into a million pieces,
dance away in the nightime's wind.
I want to be held as I split and crack,
try to meld me together one last time.

I want to burst and implode and evaporate.
And I want you to know that I'm sorry.

Because you're smart, right?
Pretty charming, right?
Love the way the wind whispers and the rain cries.
Love things other than what Girls like.

Because you like bare face, right?
They're a carbon copy, right?
But you, you're a gem in the rough, undiscovered.
You, you're a lifeform with all of nature's secrets.
You, you're much better. [Right?]

You, you're different than those other Girls,

Right?

I paint myself blue and yellow and fiery red.
I glow in the dark and echo with each step.

Please look.

I channel the sea's gasp and bloom pansies with my breath.
I carry the sun on my shoulders, feet deep in snow.

Please hold my gaze.

You think me crazy, a child in older skin, a neon sign in a silent night.

You don't understand. I'm just trying to make you stay.

I remember the sky,
the way it bruised that night,
a deep blue and purple and indigo.
You reached up, your smile widened,
and your hand drew back those same shades.
Your fingertips were ink-stained,
a small sky on each finger.

I reached up and grasped only air.