They Call This Drowning.We fell in love;A deep and surgingwatercolor seawith lilac waves thatwrestled with our ailingbodies,and azure air that choked ourlungs.We were in over our heads.
How Love Works.I neverfell in love withyou,you neverfell in love withme.Your demonsfell in love withmine,my demonsfell in love withyours.
One Day His Life Will Be a Classic.There's sorrowon his lips,and sonnetsin his eyes.Each scar on his wrist,speaks in fatal monologue.He lives a tragedynot evenShakespeare could write.
Horology.Like a clock,you said you'd waitforever,but I forgotto replace the battery,now you'rebroken.
Roses Can Change.White roses make youcrybecause they remind youof him.To see you smileand take the painfrom your eyes,I'd prick each of myfingertipsand drip my bloodonto each velvet petalthat adorns the snaking vineso that the red roseswill make you thinkof me.
Everyone Knows Boys Can't Fly.They told him liesdid not existwhere evil dared not roam,and that if he only spreadhis wings,the wind would hold himup,and make him fly.He stood on theedge,his toes balancedin the skyand with a breath he closedhis eyes,and fell back down toEarth.
I Am Lost.I am lost,I cannot feel.Is this sleep,When I close my eyes?Or is it death,When I rest my head?I am lost,I cannot see.Is this real,When I hear your voice?Or is it an illusion,When I see your face?I am lost,I do not knowWhere I am,When I look ahead.Or where I've been,When I look back.I am lost,I have forgottenHow to speak,When words weigh on my lips.Or how to scream,When terror fills my lungs.I am lost,I’ll never be found.No one noticed,When I went away.They can see me,But I am gone.
whispers.i was so hesitantto take your hand,because when you said you loved mei knew you meant itand that scared the hell out of me.
Speechless.I wanted to writea poem foryou,but when you leftyou took everything,even the wordsI never spoke.
RawThese fingers never thoughtThey could write poetry,Just like this mouth neverThought it could eat heartsAnd swallow regrets.Your secrets still paintThe inside of my throat,Hieroglyphics of a loveThat left me raw.I can still feel you inMy bones, and I'll keepYou there till the sunTurns to dust and theMoon stops singing herSorrow to the stars.
symptoms of red a materialist inside of you unknitting your sweater & in your dream you are a wolf eating a flower in an orange field. the world is ending. an unnamed girl stains you as if she were tea giving up to a foaming ocean. she writes a story: the unrequited blurry visions of two visionaries
The DeadI have chemical wakefulness,10 dollars and 27 cents hidden last night,somewhere around the apartment, maybe in the couchor behind the drywall. The red stiff pillows are on the carpet,my chest was stuffed with vibrations and tapered:It's not in the kitchen. Not in our bedroom,but you have forty dollars in your wallet.Your body's in airspace. Maybe you had dinner,your parents' favorite restaurant,or called Richard while you smoked in the parking lot,talking:feather hymns, exosongs, traffic tones,a late ride home, long straight roads, flaking paint,creaking sway, bitter drip, dragging lights,dark skin,a choking fit,his nihilistic faith, a repetitive twitch,how he appreciated with his fists,and you were 23,thought everything was plainor symbolic:"I'll pick up something for dinner,"but I only spend 18.60 at the supermarket.
ChangesHe turned her blizzards into breezes.
DissociationThe mirror showed her a stranger.
Who are you?"Who are you?""I don't know."
as if asleepIShe lies, all aflush with color;her wide eyes half open,and a willow branch caressingher gently curved cheekbone.IIAs the sun drifts offher face, thrown into darkness,is made wild by shadowsand no amount of catharsisin this setting idylliccan bring back the light.
overflowI tried to show you all the broken bones in the cupboard,the cobwebs beneath the staircase;all the schisms, and chasms,and chinks in my a(r)mourbut your finger touched my lipsin a curious sort of way, and you saidhush, darling, don't say a wordnone of that matters anymoreso I tried to shut away the ghostsbut now they're out and aboutand coming for meand I have no hope of escapingwith my heart so chipped and faded.
You Had to AskMe, a monster?Let's find out
We All Have A Story"Their scars... similar...""...but different stories."
EntwinedSurrounded by warmthWrapped tightly in his strong armsIs this what love is?
post-conflagrationoh, darling, look at us;a crooked collection ofashen-faced chaotic nobodies,struggling to stand straight.we used to burn so bright,but we're just now learningwhy no-one loves fireworksafter they've gone out.
HopeThere are so many dayswhen humanity frightensthe most compassionateperson awayit takes only a knifeor a word or a gun, andoh god,we scare so easy.I'm tired of livingwithout faith,without promise,I'm tired of not believingin tomorrow.There may not be a god abovebut believer or not,there are so manyreasons to loveI'm not giving upI'm not letting go;I'm going to dreamand one dayperhaps I will flyand I will believethe best of peopleuntil it kills me,because the momentthat you give upis the momentyou become the problem.
my love is a fire, you are the fuel,and i'm burning you into ashes.
Growing Upscraped knees. broken hearts. dying memories.
Content.I went searchingfor myself,I ended up finding youinstead.