and so she broke his heart afterhe stopped buildingglass houses of trust for her to s h a t t e r
i am worth it.and if this feelingonly lasts for tonight,i'll swallow the night;rearrange the starsto map theletters of my namebecause i am worthevery second it takesto let the world know i'm alive
half-empty.she-devils lend me their smiles;all the other ones i haveare tearing at the seamsall that's left of me isblack ink & blacker bloodmixed with the bittersmell of rubbing alcohol but she still snakes her arms around the nebulae collapsing in my freckled lungs bec
it isn't the cigarettes.maybe my lungs are black becausei've only everinhaled the second-hand smokeof your lies
judging books by (shitty) covers.my cover has beentorn,ripped, & replacedso that i could fool you into thinkingthat there are onlyhealthy thoughtsinside thesecrisp pagesbut even thoughi did a shit job& you can still seethe frayed edges ofbad nights and bad daysand bad weeks peekingthrough my translucent skin,you glance at meand think "yeah, she's okay"
far.i looked to the sky and i could've swornthe stars seemed to be dimming,slowly fading awaybut the moon was a bright cheshire smileleading me to red doors without signsand whispering for me to forget my mindreplaying replaying replayingold days of madnesswhere glasses were half emptyand hungry eyes were full
beautiful.i hate my stretchmarksthe vertical the horizontal the ones running miles down my armsstripes on a circus tentmy body is a freak show75 cents a ticketthey are the bars on a cagetrapping me inside this prison cell of flesh (not letting me run away from all i once was)reminding me that i am still that little girl who was told that she had toomuch weight in her stomachand in her thighs to be called beautifulmy stretchmarks are the debris from when i tried to collapse upon myselftried taking up less space because beautiful is small beautiful is skinnydiets upon dietsbecause i've been told thati am only worth the sharpness of my collarbone
Poetry AnalysisI was given poetry Told to pinher arms and legsdown on my paper; college ruledDissect HerIt's procedure Take my pen & tear her openExpose her limbsAnd rearrange her vertebrae to fit my selfish needs But what the teacher doesn't knowis I already let mine escapeClutching to the secrets that still remain inside her Where they belong
oxymoronic.i am so full of empty
make forevers in memories.we are not foreversdancing on the borderlinesof infinty we are temporary but our memoriesare everlasting so do not hesitate to create them
.the sun did notkiss my skinyesterday, he sleptlateshowed hisface around noonand then went backto bed; theearth exhaled
sycamore rotting.his daughter felllike dynasties prominent.to indulgence sheathingitself over what was left--she didn’t seem too younguntil she was far too old.and he only livedfor the namelessness,twisting notions into his embryo,vile and volatile.vulnerable riddled her smileand venerable, she was never.she wasn’t ever, nor was iin this noir motion pictureflickering sense(lessness) of reality.the loud lights of this filmcovering my eyes burninto the quiet;hushed because they’re staticbut the looks are thunderous.the tempest tempts usand we take the baitfaster than the firstlightning strikehit you in the chest.i was no criminalbut i have committedmany injusticesand lost timewasn’t the only thingi kidnapped.but you were a fugitivei could not catch.
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.
.a tattoo for everysin, a poppyten yearslater- a meadow
so close yet so far.i am always a thousand feet away from those who are closest to me
Languidly Losing LifeLanguidly Losing Lifeconstant consciousnesscreates compositions.blended by burning bacterium;deteriorating domiciliation.downgrading dewdropsof once owned objects, thought totell talesabout all actual activity.
say i want my freedom, sure-suddenly,august emerges from the depthsof this ashen mind;behind me evaporatesthe thrill of the placewhere we chased firefliesand your goodbyes arisein the vapor of its reflections.give me a sign, you saidwhen i met you on the sidewalk,give me ultimatumsand chains and ways to staybefore i break everything.now, i wear your ghostas a mask on my faceand as a bracelet, your halo,burning marks into everyone i touchand spelling out your nameas a haunted mantra.august left me here,tied up with angel hairand strings of excuses,i'll never find your reasonto stay another sullen season here.
.i put my handsover god's eyes(i know he sees right through me)
these confessionsweren't meantto be hers(these whispers should have listened should have stopped mid-sentence)but the paper cranesfrom yesterdayhad been flownthrough her windowby handsthat weren'ther own(her shadow should have listened should have flittered away in the sun)and she wishesthey won't evercome home
post mortem.Some days,we grow old:our memoriesfolded,packed away;little love letters,dated and sealed,a correspondenceof youth,dumpedon the roadside,incongruouswith the fag-endsand drifting crisp-packetsof the fast lane.
...the contrast only makes me love you moreI trace constellationsacross your arms, andin the wake of my fingertipsrainbows blossom.Among the spread of colorI can't find a single shadethat makes us clash.
.horrors prey ondreams, and sleep cando nothing about ita lamb straysfrom the flock;a wolf grins
.crescent moon- silverhook in the sky fishing forstars; you catch my eye
now i see the stars.there was a time when icouldn't catch my breath whenever ithought about you , (crippled lungs and-boy, you hit me like an asteroid,there's a crater on my chest now that I can't ever seem to fill,even withoceans of my tears cried onnights when you couldn't be there to sing me to sleep.thirty two poemless days after you joined the constellations,i walked out into the yard and howled to the empty sky,andfor a moment i was Gaea, rivers running down my cheeks,weighted to the ground andburied in myself, butwhere there is no light there are no shadows, andsometimes, i wonder if i miss me.yes, yes i do.i may not see the moon, but
pollutant.he is a boy devoid of sharp colours, riseslike a distant sun fragmented through citysmoke plumes, he paints skies grey, hedilutes turquoise seas, he is always a shadeof nothing. his girl, she dresses him in clowncolours, masks the void with scarlet smilesand peacock feathers, but the hues all fadeunder his watercolour touch. i used to lovehim, but he stripped even the lightest shadesof happiness down to something faded,something missing. dreams in greyscale,life in sepia, i ate blood oranges and paintedmy skin pomegranate and clashed sobeautifully with his frown i think he forgot tocry when i left, dressed in theatre costumesand his girl blazing by his side, her seeing liferose-tinted, him as anything but miserable andme as something more dangerous thandepression.
dead from the neck upto the thousands of souls who havedied beneath my skin, picked pink,and those i would not be able tosleep without, for they are the staticvoices in my seashell ears - i amsorry, but not sorry enough to stop.should i scrape my illness frombeneath my nails, there would be noone to wrap my feeble body in theflesh of freckled stars and barkwarnings so softly. this is all i have.there are people who haven't seenthe war here at home, the bloodlapping the shores of our pride.and their eyes don't shine like mine,but their hands leave bruises againstmy temples, peeling the skin from myback like poorly held wallpaper.hope has fled and left me with anempty nest. god trembles when iwake to see another day. no onehopes that sometime i'll be able tolaugh with my heart on my tongue,and they sure as hell don't wipe thesadness that drips down my chinand hallowed neck.for now, my ribs are shut tight likevenetian blinds, my mind is heldtogether with safety pins, and mystomach
mescalinewe raise bygone czarsto walk amongst the livinglike travelers in blue skulls,& i am a preachermade of offhand remarks &long-healed headaches -oh, the whole world is catatonic.
four.you told me you loved me today- - - - - - - -- - - - - -so i admitted thatyou make want meto die.
heartbreaker.and so she broke his heart afterhe stopped buildingglass houses of trust for her to s h a t t e r