Pick it up.
The pieces of your heart,
that shattered long ago.

The dreams that seemed dead.
The lost and forgotten ones.
That never had a chance.

Pick it up.
The memories you discarded,
that you left to rot.

The ones with trauma.
The ones with love.
Put them together again.

Pick it up.
The hope that you lost,
that you thought was gone.

The determination.
The soul.
The strength.

'Cause healing starts now.

Round and round,
we go around,
on the carousel of love,
we'll never hit the ground.

Chasing a goal,
I know I'll never make.
Leading me 'round the nose,
but it's fine, I don't mind,
'cause it's you who's doing so.

Hey boy,
I'll be the jester,
entertain you,
just don't leave.

I don't care if you hate me,
just let me love you,
I'll beg on the ground for you,
just give me attention,
and you won't regret it.

But when I fall off the ride,
and bleed from my knee,
the hand that helps me,
why is it yours?

Picking at my skin,
making me bleed,
scent of flesh,
melting with the rouge.

Stuffing up my chest,
with a knife to my skin,
playing doctor one-on-one,
******* in my breath.

Am I pretty enough?
Are my thoughts pure enough?
Am I desirable enough?
Obedient enough?

Overemotional,
heart too big for my body,
keeps leaking out.
It's better with my mouth shut.

I'll gloss my lips,
twisting up my insides,
I'll become all that you want,
until only a shell remains.

creaming soda is a pleasant drink, don’t you think?
the pink aesthetic of it, the sweet taste.
the way it tickles down your throat with each gulp.

it’s like a small exciting adventure every time you drink.
few things feel as good as drinking some creaming soda.
except, being with you.

somehow, for me, it exceeds the limits.
i no longer taste that fleeting sweetness.
it’s an overwhelming flavour that melts me down to my core.

i’ve never been much good at writing.
if you keep your pen in one spot, the ink will pool.
you and i both know that well.

but for you, i keep it moving.
whether or not the outcome is good.
i move my hand and write for you.

being with you feels like a time out of space.
a place that nobody except us can reach.
where we laugh, watch and love.

i bet you weren’t expecting this.
and i understand how you feel.
i just needed to tell you.

writing is a passion of mine.
so telling you like this felt right.
plus, you always said you liked to read what i write.

i would love to take you by the hand.
and dance with you, round and round.
until our heads feel heavy ‘cause we’re dizzy.

i know you don’t feel the same.
and that’s okay.
because as long as i can stay by your side.

i’ll be alright.

let us dance.
hands joined.
in the pink waves of an ocean of love.

Baby, you’re one of a kind.
Your eyes light up my dim night skies.
The way you blow into that flute.
Hypnotic melodies.

Your magic blooming like flowers in Spring.
Causing even the dead to dance.
Everyone is left captivated.
They’d all like a piece of you.

Darling, your mind captures brilliance.
The kind no other has witnessed.
You’re a piece of art.
One of a kind.

Even with cold flesh.
Your smile imprinted onto the Earth.
Wishing this moment could last forever.
A masterpiece dug into the dirt.

And on your grave, I plant these flowers.
You’ll be sent to Heaven, baby.
Where your flame will rise.
And your high will never get low.

Lying in a field of flowers.
I’m plucked by a needle.

Something sharp that was hidden.
Nothing I suspected.

Oozing with blood, the field stains red.
A reminder of the pain I went through.

I can’t look at daisies.
Without thinking of you.

Is this the curse I must bear?

I see your name in flashing lights.
Your face in the streets.

Every place we used to meet.
I drop down to my knees.

The agonising needle that pierced my back.
Corrupts my once pure heart.

Giving me chest pains.
I cannot endure.

I never knew death could taste so sweet.

As I lay here in pain.
I reminisce, my dear.

About the memories we shared.
The life we lived.

And as I hold your warm hand.
Within my frozen fingertips.

The needle falls.
On a bloodied bed.

Empty bathtub.
Where you and I sit.

The memories that were once ours.
Now stain the mirror in blue.

Slow dancing into an embrace.
Leaving marks on your neck.

No matter how much we touch.
I can never fill the gap.

How can you bathe without water?
We sit - exposed.

You kick me for something I did.
I light up a cigarette.

Screaming in my ear.
Something about cheating.

I pop open a bottle of whiskey.
And pour it in the bathtub.

You ask to break up.
You found another man.

When you leave I can finally breathe.
I stretch in the bath.

It feels a little empty.
I pour more *****.

So many people.
Have been bathed with me.

None with water.
None pleasantly.

Still, even now.
Every body reminds me of you.

I remember your smile.
Your smell.

I’m tired of this by now.
So I lie down in the bath.

And let it overflow.