I look at the blade with my arms ready red lines everywhere blood dripping down like little lakes flowing through the crevices until they meet if I cut the wrong vein someday all the rivers will amalgamate into a matrix of red ocean
Do trees long for the leaves they have spilled? Do lovers long for the wounds they have healed? Do warm rivers long for the winters deep chill? Do dark nights long for the days concealed?
I to have learned to long, to yearn, to thirst, For the warmth of the wind, the cool of the moon, The pleasant sigh of a newfound love, For words just newly learned, I will long.
Pick me up, And open my cover, But be careful, Cause I might crumble, Read my fine print, Just don’t mock the way I am, I’ve been through alot since then, Drugs, Fights, Heart breaks, And more, Are all the things you’ll find, In my novel.