first they'll tell you about the daughters they "had"
the ones who, at nine, would go straight to bed
the ones who, without fail, would kiss their mothers goodnight
and then you'll comprehend these mothers' plights
(from the gravel in their voices they'll path a road for you to see)
the daughters they're talking about are the ones they never had.
(n.n.)

i heard tires screeching against the gravel in your voice and i'm trying to convince myself those weren't my screams.

there are diamonds scratching my tongue and they call me "***** mouth"

do we have to die in order to have lived

destination: heartbeat city

we make our words so pretty we forget that the beauty comes from saying them for their meaning

he is every single poem about the ocean in the world, and i'm supposed to be looking for some kind of sunshine.

i've never seen so much red in someone so blue

and so i'll drown myself in words so shallow
to find my bones cracking the ground
because either way
it feels the same
i can't drown in you
(n.n.)

maybe what hurts so bad is that we're two broken girls writing about the same boy

i've measured
the highway to your heart
in the tears from my arms
and the calluses on my feet

different promises for the same vows

Never forget a child's first play
It is a mirror - it is the only gate
So clear to
See love in a child's simple ways
And forget the love for which you pay
(n.n.)

and as we fall in love with the words, we forget who is saying them.

on the surface of my skin
i'd love to see bones
but they weigh me in boulders
not in stones
(n.n.)

we were born with nothing and now we have nothing