a word never truly ends
scrawled upon a piece of paper
the ink sinking inside
demanding a million more words to follow

lie in bed
strike a match
watch it burn
feel the flame devour my skin
blow it out
watch the smoke run free of pain
drop it in a jar
repeat

for whatever reason
i cannot move
i cannot breathe
i cannot think
for whatever reason
i am paralyzed
by the lack of movement
in my chest
for whatever reason
i am asphyxiated
by the lack of air
in my lungs
for whatever reason
i am disoriented
by the plethora of voices
in my head

i cried on the first day of summer
for no apparent reason.
the idea of this is troubling
because summer is my happiest season.

you told me
every way you loved me
with every kiss
with every word
with every touch
exaggerating every act
in every way
you told me
i was beautiful
like a poem written
on a summer afternoon
with curly q's
and heart dotted i's
you told me i was beautiful
to which was my demise

i adore you
and you adorn me
the way you say my name
makes it harder to breathe
the way you drag your fingers
up and down my skin
makes it feel more beautiful
something like porcelain

which is fragile as hell

an artist can love you
like no other could,
they feel what you feel
and see what you see
therefore
they understand
and hold no judgement

only adoration

the rise and fall
of his chest
like the ocean's waves
rocking me back and forth
back and forth
his long lashes
like the brush
sweeping across my skin
hypnotizing me
with every flutter
the warmth of his skin
radiating like the sun
leaving me saturated
with happiness

he was unique
in many more ways
than one
his laugh could cure
many of my diseases
and in those moments
it's as if
they never existed
his chest could save me
from a cold day
and was the most beautiful
i had ever seen
his eyes could melt me
for they entranced me
with every flutter
his promises could never fail
for every syllable
was my new favourite

i'd give anything
to go back to how
i used to be
to wake up and see
everything in its glory
instead of its shame
to not dread the cold
on my feet
or the warmth
of the water
to not dread
waking up
would be lovely