Last night,
when I closed my eyes,
I saw the moon
so full and so bright.
I fell asleep smiling.

It is a slight sip at first.
Wetting the tongue and
Soothing the throat.

But soon you are taking big gulps,
Forcing yourself to choke down the frustration
That tries to push its way past your throat.

Now you are drowning
In an ocean of your virtue.
Stomach bloated from
All your long-suffering.

"Have you had your fill yet?"
They'll ask you.
"No, no, there's always room for more."

I'm older now,
And the drink is far too bitter.
It tastes of pain and anger and sadness.
I don't think I could manage a single sip.

my love language is music
I am transported to a place where my feelings are real
I can say what is true in my heart
I can fly in dreams and other worlds
and love
love is real
in music

but I have never
never sent someone a mixed tape
or a playlist
or even a song
I have never felt compelled to share
what is in my heart
I have never felt those fantastical feelings
for a real person

well, that’s not entirely true

there was this one person
…

Every human feeling is a raw work of poetry.

the poor guy still up in my attic  
needs to understand
he can be free
all his dreams of reunion can come true
he just needs to go into the scary place
first
just for a few minutes
ok maybe an hour or two
but then he can be free
forever
it’s not a trap
it’s the only way out

For a moment I was happy
For a moment I was married
For a moment I had will to live
For a moment I felt like a Queen.
And in only just a moment
I lost everything