If my mind is cursed,
tell me why I still feel blessed by your precenses'.
Voices unheard but still there all the same - phantoms of feeling that leave my intuition partitioned.
I am not I, I am the culmination of bodies and minds guiding me through wastelands of unknown; yet still marching with the hat of a leader.

Maybe I am the innocent.
Maybe I am the daisy flower on the side of railroad tracks,
I do not know the casualties from the train,
I am simply living here.

Maybe I am your god.
Maybe I am the statue in your church or the deity on your desk,
I am quite aware that you want me so,
I am ethereal in my living and I am quite the woman to love.

Maybe I am beautiful.
Maybe I am the girl you write red-inked love letters to and think of in dreams.
I know most will not like me, but I am beauty to you.
I am the girl that got away

My phone screen is too bright
Parties are too loud
Work is exhausting

And what I’m doing for my mental health isn’t enough

I hope this ends soon
Not with death, I just want whatever this is to stop
I’m getting through it, don’t get me wrong
I’m just worried to see who I am when I come out the other side

Rain in a creek
The water's cool but you are warm
Your face is so close to me
From here I can see the world
Libraries and the smell of coffee
Open fields
My feet
High in a tree
Flowers 'round our faces
Lips and kisses and your fingers in me
Us in the stairwell
Of a lonely apartment building
Your nose all pink
While there's snow in my hair
Baking and walks
The making of playlists
The quiet intimacy
Of shared headphones
Igor and Melodrama
Always on repeat
Butterflies and strawberries
Drawings on the fridge
Pinned with funky magnets
Shaped like our inside jokes and dreams
Drawing on sketchpads
Sat on the floor
2 AM and we've never be closer
Waterfalls trickling
A lone fire escape
Sitting together in that night light
I see the whole world
I don't want to leave

I have a man
Trapped in my web
Kind in his ways
I wish to cocoon him
Within gentle thread
That will tug at his legs
And tie him to me

the words are
lost to you
like daily rituals
and the nuiance
of psychoanalytics
you evolve like
the reptilian brain
when you want to
i want to do more
than just survive