I met a genius on the train
today
about 6 years old,
he sat beside me
and as the train
ran down along the coast
we came to the ocean
and then he looked at me
and said,
it's not pretty.

it was the first time I'd
realized
that.

i know there have been moments where you pulled yourself down the stairs just to collapse onto the kitchen floor
i know there have been moments where you repeated,
"i will most certainly not make it out of this alive"
and you wake up the next morning and make it an inch further
my dear dramatic girl
there is no fault in loving with all of your heart
you will grow up and know what each word he presses to your chest means
you will have an Oxfords Dictionary for every time he tells you he was just out late
but if you keep putting pieces of you into everyone who runs their finger over your lips
or tells you "forever" as if it hasn't already lost its meaning
you will lose yourself
do not let the world desensitize you to its contents
theres nothing more tragic than watching a romantic become a cynic
you are full of a quality you cannot let every boy that stops loving you when it's convenient take from you
you are truthful and forgiving
you are trusting
and whats left of your heart is safety-pinned onto your sleeve
your heart belongs to you alone and i know its been a while since you heard this, but
you are full without people miles away telling you that they think you'd look pretty without your clothes on
dust it off,
lie on the kitchen floor and remember what it felt like when you said
"i will most certainly not make it out of this alive"
for when you wake up one morning and forget how it sounds
to be despondent in love
do not let the world take you and spread you over people who push you to fill pieces of them they have lost in others
you are prevailing every time you whisper
"i love you, too"

sometimes I wish I could draw back the shades
on my life and let in some sun

Don't die, be happy
Not miserable, this is
My not-to-do list

I think about life
I look up to the old clock
I watch the time leave

My mind
Likes to deceive me

I find someone
truly someone

And they're shattered from me
by a gas smaller than I can see

Shattered into a reality
I've been avoiding my whole life

Dear young, hopeless Cherie
How shall I hope to survive?

The dark room is a matchbox
And she's a perfect match
That's why it chose her
The bodies were replaced when no one saw
Pressing against the rusted grid
Spattered with blood, The wrong hand
And through it the man came
His boots like cannons
He tore that painting in two and chewed on its soul
Losing himself in the colours


My eyelids dropped like weights
Down, down, down a hundred fathoms
And blue rushed in through the cracks
This far down the birds begin to chirp
Time stops when you watch it, a shy thing it is
But the day flies by before it even starts
Sitting up in my bed I could hear the footsteps
Felt but not seen
I cried out for him
Huddled under the covers