I will keep your eyes in my mind.
Seas don’t compare and stars cannot shine quite as bright
But the remnants of your smile will stay with me
Until they’re tossing sunflowers on my fairly earned grave
And I will yearn for the company of your cheek being cradled against my palm
And I will help you remember what the meaning of this shattered world is
And I will hold your hand the whole way.
Between keyholes and
Failed attempts at being a dreamer
Who never had wings,
I cannot tell
Whether you are
Or setting me free.
I cannot speak anymore
It’s almost as if
My past has become a blur of who I used to be and a struggle for who I’m trying to become.
Maybe one day I’ll understand why the grass being greener on the other side is something I need so badly,
Maybe I’ll appreciate the smell of roses instead of burning the petals until they smile their way to the ground,
Maybe I’ll figure out why you loved me so much,
But I sure as hell won’t do a thing about it.
You look at me through screens
No one else has managed to tear holes though
But with the swift flick of your finger nail
Can you give me your heart
In pieces and
Can you give me your hand?
I have to place mine in it
I am yours
I am not magnificent
Like the morning fog lifting
Breathing precious life into the grass like the dew in the morning
And all I want is to climb to the top of the mountain and look around me
So I know
That I’ve lived at least once in my lifetime.
There’s one thing I’m sure of
I don’t know.
You will wake me up
Respire words into my ears
Paint pictures of granting me a better life
Writing postcards from foreign lands and catching my desperate tears with your mouth
You love me
And I can’t figure out why I cannot grab onto
But I know
You’re keeping them
In your heart.
It must have been that yesterday was the day I clipped my wings upon realizing the desire to fly away,
To leave at the thirty and call you seconds after just to hear you scream
“It’s all your fault,
It’s all your fault,”
But I’ll buy my time and remember your lies and forgive myself for succumbing to the no
I will still be here while you break me in two
I will be.
Though you’ve tried to kill me
I will be.
I will be alive.
Guns and Flowers
Why are our hearts so fragile in the craze of strength
And of stability
We’re cracked and broken
But our pieces are solid
Cutting the feet of the ones who walk over us
Raining fire on the ones who tread under us
But we’re all so sad
In the land of utopia
I’m holding my skin together
With inked on safety pins
And holding my dreams together
With the rest of what I have.
I’m holding it all in the palms of my hands
And it’s going to
Save my life.
History Of Sinners
Did you think
That you were in my songs
That I strummed your features
Into my heart
And etched your voice into my lungs
You think I
You think I feel with the tips of my fingers and the pad of my tongue?
Don’t you know who I am?
Don’t you know
That history is a sham
And I am a sinner
While I Watch Them Grow
These visions are illusions
And I can only think
When I’m barely breathing and thumbing the sound of my heartbeat on strings from the back of my throat
It goes on
And it just
Until I paint it red and rid myself of the sand between my toes and the mirrors in my room and the fog above the sand at 5 a.m.
These cities are my voice
And I’m throwing up
I want to fall down rabbit holes
and smile at the illumination of graffiti on the city walls when the sun peeks through the morning,
wake up when the smell of coffee and elation hit me and
grasp the daisys with my fingers covered in earth,
begging for salvation from their roots
But I am dizzy from today and
far too anxious for tomorrow
Can I just
until these dreams
(cradle) me to sleep?
“It’s funny, really.”
When she said that he stared at her. She was so used to him speaking up and gripping her tighter, either by the throat or by the heart. He reeled her in, she was caught in amongst the sea of lovers and quarrels and she wanted to get away. But she was the poor deer in the headlights, and those goddamned brights were going to collide into her body until she was unrecognizable.
“I imagined you with a ring on your finger. For a good few months. I mean Christ, all I wanted was certainty and there you were, solid as a brick and as matter of fact as all the profanity I use. Fuck. Fuck, why is it different now?”
She wanted to cry, to squeeze one pitiful tear out of the duct that was clogged with regret and self harm but now she couldn’t see past the red in his eyes; they used to be oceans. Now they’re threats.
She shook her head.
“This is funny to you?”
She shook her head.
She imagined his hand on her throat.
She shook her head
and walked away.
Something inside me
You can cut me open and swallow me whole and tear off flesh and crack my bones and whisper sinister threats into my hollow ears and I will bruise and I will crack
But something inside is keeping me still