people don't label my pain
as real as others

but i promise, it's just as lethal

you aren't sweet
you're salty.
but i like to lick
the sweat from your
lips.

you aren't soft
you're sharp.
but i like the way
your nails feel against my
back.

you aren't loud
you're quiet.
but i like to sit and
just think with
you.

you aren't poetic
you're poetry.
but i like to write
you into
immortality.

i play a song
full of dissonant chords
but i won't stop
until the last note

because maybe
someone needs to hear a song

used to think i was so wise
yes, my words were so clever
and now i stare at my demise
regretting my foolish endeavour

i thought my words could hold you
that they would show you my heart
but you just saw right through
my carefully crafted piece of art

She smelled like cigarette smoke
and *****
and Oh,
how I wished to be
the ash or the bottle
that fell
from
her
lips.

Flowers grow between my ribs,
and in the cracks of my mind.
While those around me call it beautiful,
it is getting hard to breathe.

you weren't a
book for me
to read

you weren't a
movie for me
to watch

you're still being
written
you're still being
made

so am i
and i'm so sorry
for expecting
you to be
a finished product

when i sit here
on the
potter's wheel