Speechless.I wanted to writea poem foryou,but when you leftyou took everything,even the wordsI never spoke.
december.and when they take meto the morgue,will you see the differencebetween my skin and the sheet?and when they close my eyesplease be standing over me,so that your facewill be the last thing they see.and when those tears falldown from your facepour them on my lips,so i can take you with me.and when they look awaycaress my bloodless face,give me one last gush ofwarmth.and when they bring the casketgently tuck me away to sleep,read me one last storyfrom that book atop the shelf.and when they place me in the ground,beneath six feet of dirt,leave your footprints in the snowand please don't let them melt.and when I fall to helli'll be waiting at the gates,but darling please take your timethere is no need to rush.
rain.i still have buckets in my roomfrom when you poured your heart out.plastic pails full of pain and loveand lust and tears and names and smiles.i don't know why i keep them...maybe i hope one day you'll come backto claim them.or when i'm being really dumbi let myself hope that you'll come back anywayfor me.
Flawed Canvas.Your lipsleft watercolorstainsall across my heart.My blood isn't evencrimson anymore,its a pale and dyinglilacthat bleeds onto the floorand paints a pictureof you.
the shadows beneath my eyes remind me of you.i got bored in class last friday,so i wrote a poem upon my hand,and when my teacher walked by he read it."that's deep," he said."i know," i told him,"i'm drowning."
5:17 AMand it's sad to thinkthat if you came backto tear me apartagain,i'd let you.
midnights always last longer than they should.i spend sleepless nights in my roomstaring at your picture on my mirrorand wondering why on earth someone as beautiful as youwould ever love someone like me,but then i rememberyou don't.
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.
How Love Works.I neverfell in love withyou,you neverfell in love withme.Your demonsfell in love withmine,my demonsfell in love withyours.
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.
3:19 AMand at first i called you asthma,because you made it hardto breathe,but then i realizedyou're justnicotine.
friday night.on our firstdate,you took me to a cemeteryjust outside of town.i guess you wanted toshow mewhat you would do to me.
this can't be pain, it hurts too much.i always fall addictedto dangerous things,but at least cigaretteswarn me on the label.your smile read only innocence,but i guess that's my faultfor misinterpretation.
long distance relationship.and do you thinkthe moonever gets sadwhen the sun leaves herto shine forus?
how to love a boy who is lost.falllike you're jumping from a cliffinto a thrashing sea whose waters you cannot tread,dive into their depths and fill your lungs with waves.just don't close your eyes,because you have to search for him.feel your weight drag you to the bottom,feel the ocean embrace youand don't be afraid of that pounding in your chest.each heartbeat is sonara signal calling him and his calling you.learn to swim nowif you drown you cannot save him.swim to the fallen cities,the submerged castlesand maritime gardens.there you'll find him,lost in thought and studying the fish.i hope you saved some oxygenso you can breathe during the kiss.
Content.I went searchingfor myself,I ended up finding youinstead.
spell winter for me.and i'm okay with being a ghost,if you're the housei get to haunt.
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.
Glassi found a mangled bodyand tried to fix it.but i got too closeand ended up cutting myselfon the jagged remains.the bleeding hasn't stopped.
Broken and despisedLittle girlOnce so inocentNow broken to the coreOf her very beingHer once free mindNow trapped in a nightmareHer once pure heartShattered into tiny piecesHer once hopeful soulOverwhelmed by darkness and despairAnd no one noticesBecause she hides her scarsUnder long sleevesBecause she hides her painBehind a fake smile...
.i think you know of hair wound tight round a hand like ropeof thoughts that sail in and let down anchorin the night, sleep drifting away on the black tide,i think you know of god up in the crow's nest, keeping watchhis eyes have rolled at us so much they rattle, loose nowin their pits like marbles, they say he knowsi have examined the slides of my childhood, uprooted my body,yanked myself out of my years with my own gloved handlike a weed and stared in disgust, it's only naturalthat you should still want to sleep with one arm overyour head, she said, don't you think?i think the sun lit upthe world's scarsand felt bad, hung its headthrough the horizonand cried in shamenow i don't think it's evergoing to stop raining(i am holding up my mind, i am shoving it in your face)
.hatredis in labour,would givebirth toforgivenessif i let it(no)
bon appetitshe extracts her heartfrom her cavernous centerlike a no-good tooth.coughing, she serves it upon fine painted ceramics.he lifts his fork,spears the meat.chewing, jaw swaying,he samples a bite.then he frownsand spits intohisnapkin.
-six word story-kiss me till my sadness melts
Don't become an artistFor you will look at love as abstract art.You will look at the sky as a canvas to paint your heartFeel raindrops ink your skin with poetry.You will draw curves out of straight linesYou will make sense out of slant rhymeCall empty space, a place to contemplateAnd fill walls with kaleidoscope memoriesYou will inject beats in your veinsAnd get high on good musicYou will dance to the pitter-patter of rainand sing of melancholy and painYou will taste ink in your first kissAfter which, you’ll ask the weirdest questions.You will make a carbon copy of the intellectual conversationsYou had on your first date.You will see depth in his eyesDepth, you’re ready to fall into.You will love his every word-Truth or liesFor you will be a victim to metaphors and similies.You will live in your tiny world of storiesAnd when someone out there, outside your own bubbleOf profound thoughts and fantasiesShare the same story, you let them write yours too.You let them read your
OsteophilicHe loved his bones.The way they never asked too much of himor protested his requests.There was nothing superfluous in their design;simple, sleek, and uncomplicated.They were spry, robustready to take on the world withsharp and fluid motions.His bones were not brittle like she was.Not so breakable or frail,not so expendable.They didn't bend under pressureor fracture under stress.He loved his bones -their ivory purity eased his soul -and he was proud of the waythey held everything togetherso effortlessly.She knew one day he'd stomp thisold flame out, long before 'death do us part.'Cremation had never been part of the plan.
.and they knew,they knew i'd gone -when they found me outside crouchedwith a string box and stick, singingi'm going to catch me my death,make him sick -now i sit in a gown that is whiterthan white, doesn't suit me,this ghost to myself -on the corridor bench with my kneestucked in under my chin, rattlingwith green yellow blue(i've told you, i know where i'm going)
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.