words left me behind
i screamed but nothing came out
i wrote but the paper remained blank
for the ink is dry and so is my heart

It took me seven years
to realise
the words in my mind
were too deep for
my mouth to dig up
I thought it was easier
to open my skin
and let the truth
pour down my arms

It took me seven years
to realise
nobody should be allowed
to touch parts
of your home
or hold pieces  
of your heart
that you don't yet understand

It took me seven years
to realise
I will wear these scars
forever
I'll carry them
through every smile
every kiss
every concerned gaze
I'll carry them
to my grave

It took me seven years
to realise
the pain carved
into the walls
of my castle
etchings of
attempting to disappear
are not a story of weakness
but a tale of
how I survived

You were just a spark.
Your flame not yet ignited.
Then he came into your life.
This boy,
he ignited you.
Your spark now a burning flame.
His smile lit it up with admiration.
His laugh made it flicker with excitement.
And his jokes made it roar with passion.
Soon enough he was your spark,
your flame,
your burn.
He engulfed you with fire,
he was your fire.
Little did you know that one day he would cause your flame to become dim.
He would feed your fire not with love,
but with hate.
And soon he was just a boy again.
And soon you were just a spark again.
Waiting,
waiting to be set on fire once more.

n.p.

I don’t care how
or care what you do
to make it happen;
I just told you
make me shine
so slather me in turpentine.

I want the sun to shrink
and the world turn dark,
when she’ll no longer rise
after she rests her eyes
upon my fiery spark.

I want the moon to swoon
and raise the tides
when he looks for the sun,
but instead
it’s my beauty that he finds.

I want the stars to bow down
and shower me in gold
when I shine brighter
and reach higher
than the stars of old.

I want storms to make
the world stir
when I walk upon
their earth,
no matter what it’ll take.

I don’t care
if it kills me;
just answer my plea.
I just want, so badly,
to shine,
so slather me in turpentine.

Sorry,
I love myself more.

I hope you fall in love with being alive
That you feel it coarsing through your veins
Pumping in your heart
A light feeling in your chest
And all you want to do is scream for joy

I gave you the list of reasons
Of why not to love me
You heard them all and said
"But those are why I do"