.i shudderwhen you speak;your words arecold when theytouch me
.just try not tothink ofthat memory, that onewolf that callsfor the restof the pack;you'll spend allnight howlingwith them insideyour head
.the breathin my lungs -you tookeverything
.some thoughts get so loud thatyou cry out for them to leave;they scatter like birds startledout of their trees, before landingagain where they wereand after a while,you just have tolet them sing
.your heartalone shouldremind younot to beatyourself upyour pulseshould remindyoukeep steady
.some people are deadlong before they die -there's just no burialor cremation,no funeralfor the spirit
.and if you evermanage to get inside myhead, i'll wish you luck
.you were a passingstorm, a tornado scribblingyour name in the sand
.everything i hold deari hold too tightly;i am so sorry you weremarked when i had tolet you go
.you got given a life,now you have to earn your living
.he stood on the shore,and told the sea he loved her;the jealous wind tore hisvoice in two
.a storm breaks insidehis mouth; my name washes upon his tongue, stranded
.spillyour emotion,or drownin it
.hell isthe devil's chest,an empty red cavernhe's simply tryingto fill
.we are one and thesame, that old willow andme, we stand tall with thescars that life gave us -with the names of loverscarved deep in our limbs,and old burns from mydads cigarettes
.you're afraidto let anyonestoke the firein your chestfor fearyou will burnthem alive
.you brokea heart,convincedthat there wassomething goodinside
.did you ever stopto think, that maybe the starsare gazing at you
Evanescentonly the mostbeautiful of creatureslive the shortest.red roses and quiveringbutterflies and otheruseless things, like theway she wishes on every starshe sees for a differentsoul because she can't standthe way it's rotting inside.and it's only whenthe thorns beneath her skinstart to bleed that hermonsters whisper, "haveyou ever trembled, my dear?"because they knowfor every whimper that hidesfaintly in the dark,there is a pair of lips stretchedinto a smile pretendingthat all that is beautifulis timeless and unbroken.
I can't write poetry for dead girls.there are toomany pills in thisworld and toomuch misery inthe human heartbut that didn't meanthat you could justup and leave whenwe both know itcould have gotten betterand i miss you likea wolf misses her packor a goddamn dragon missesher fire and i'm sorrythat i can't give youa bouquet of jasmines(they were yourfavorite, after all,because that wasthe only princesswith a pet tiger)because poppies aretoo cliche and i'msorry i wasn't therewhen all you neededwas a hug and for someoneto whisper "it's okay,you're perfect enoughfor me, don't listento that junkie bitchwho just happened togive birth to you" and didyou know that i'm still waitingfor a reply to that oneemail about the world'sbest puns because fuck,there's a stubborn partof me that still refuses tobelieve that you're gone.
How to pretend that you are a writer.Act like you're notokay when you are andthat you are when you'renot. Run barefoot inthe snow. Stand outin the rain for an hourand think about anythingand everything you can.Fall in love withriddles and things thataren't real and theway some starsshine. Cry whenyou realize that life isjust one big sham and writeone hundred cliché poemsabout it, and then write onethat you actually mean.Use profanity. Be theone fucking introvertin a room full ofextroverts and screamshit just for the fun ofit. Swallow every goddamnmetaphor you ever dreamedof and write them downwith your own blood.Eulogize your ownmisery. Put a crown onit and let it rule yourheart for six years beforeyou throw a coup d'etatbut just end up withyour head in a basket.Ask yourself whyyou feel soempty and whenyou forgot how tolaugh and where youlast left your smile andwho you even really areanymore. Mean every word.Don't cry at funerals. Cryyourself to sleep everyother night for
A lesson in realism:you areonly human.There is no suchthing as stardustfloating in your veins orgloomy poetry stitchedright into your heart.Your blood is made ofiron - unbreakable,unbending and unmatchedby any other stronghold,for you are a fortressthat they will never invade.Stand up,darling;wipe those tears awayand know thatyou are the only onewho can reinforce these walls.
My DiseaseMy fingers bleed wordsthat my lips cannot say.When they try to trickle out,I scowl and turn away.It may not be contagious,but it is a disease.Holding myself deep inside,it's getting hard to breathe.Lies come so easy,to cover up the truth.It’s like my second nature,grown from my very youth.It’s deeper than conviction,more earnest than a thought.It’s my wayIt’s my lifeIt is my disease.
I know you, I love youWe fall in love with the microscopic, rough-edged details of people. We crave the knowledge of our lovers, crave to know them the way nobody else can. In a way, these idiosyncrasies become our own personal gift, a sliver of our favorite person preserved within ourselves.You love the way he licks his lips twice before saying something important, exactly twice, like he’s counting out two seconds to reclaim his composure.You love how her fingertips smell like turpentine and lavender when she finishes a painting because she doesn’t stop until her brushes are clean, and then she spends too much time trying to scrub her hands fresh.You love how he sometimes mouths the lyrics to songs under his breath, just loud enough to be audible over the radio, and you love the way he smiles and blushes and stutters when you notice him doing so.You love her expression when she reads, shifting and flowing like a hundred butterflies in response to the words on the page; you love the frantic
What I Can't HaveI wanted wings To wrap me gently In such a wondrously beautiful embraceAmongst the stars and angelsSo I delicately ripped flightFrom the butterflies surrounding my windowIn the hopes they could fly me away.I wanted to feel loved To feel the doting heat Of a lovers breath on my neckAnd grasp on my heartSo I kissed the sunAnd held it ever so gentlyAgainst my breast tillIt burned me awayAnd I could reminisce in its loving burn.I wanted to be wholeWithout flaw Without ugly bones to trap my soulWithout a lifeSo desperately wantingEverything it could never have or beSo I embraced the seasSubmerged my entirety My being Letting its infinity ConsumeAll that would be left of me,Till I could only Wash among its waves
Barb WireYour barb-wired brainwon't let me in,and I'm getting cuttrying to jumpthe fence.
Silly GirlSilly girl,Whose eyes rain crystals,Why do you wish to heal?Do you not understand the beautyOf your ability to feel?Silly girl,Whose grin’s so bright,Why do you wish to change?A soul with no emotionWould appear to be quite strange.Silly girl,Whose face is dull,Why do you live this myth?You choose to be a shadow,Smashing daisies with your fist.Silly girl,With wounds and scars,Why have you chosen this death?No, sinking into your own graveWould be better than such regret.Silly girl,You’ve started to feel,Just recently you’ve started to cry.You’ve been down this path again and again,With a pain you’re designed to deny.Silly girl,Whose eyes rain crystals,Why do you wish to heal?Do you not remember the tortureOf being unable to feel?
.you pulledall the strings;now i connect morewith the puppet thani do the puppeteer