Midnight talks.

your nails rake days into my skin

marks of imprisonment in blotched red

scratches of a prisoner on stony walls

lines crossing with every touch

i'm a patchwork of need and you're what pulled me apart

shred my mask of pure intentions

sink me into velvet pleasures

drown me in your lips

where my name is lost

in the crevice between your ribs

He is temptation.

it's torture every time our eyes meet

my ribs contract and my breath evapourates

and i dream of the way your hands wander on my skin

sketching constellations with your fingertips

lips laced with heroine, tongue full of addiction

you're a sinner baby

thank god i'm a sinner too

you don't know what you're doing to me.

Sometimes I think.

and she longed to know if

in his mind, she was the only constant source

of late-night conversations and broken hearts

and if his voice

could still make fireworks go off

even in silence

Memorabilia.

you slip through my fingers;

a fleeting ghosts of memories--

time breathing last moments

broken by tears and screams

of pleas of pain and happiness

i loved

but now you stay in abyss

a fickering existence

frozen in the second hand

of the broken clock.

White Noise.

The sharp white screeches

blind me and I choke on acrid smoke

i can't seem to keep up

and everything is a blur

" can't hold on "

a tear rolls into the ocean

and i watch my reflection

fade with the setting sun.

RIP Mr. Riddell

They taught me how to hold a pen,

but you taught me how to write.

And the skies never sounded so beautiful,

except in between your decorated words.

I almost drowned into the ink-blotched pages,

but you pulled me out and told me to dive instead.

Your voice may be lost amongst the ocean breeze,

but your words will sear into the fleshy heart

f o r e v e r

You left me

There's nothing left to hold me back 

and this empty air i grasp pleads me

move on move on

but my feet are static and my toes

still remember how warm your duvet was

the heat of your breath

fading, fading into the chill

of the morning air

You're gone.

they didn't know where to go anymore

these l e t t e r s weak on their own

sentences strung together in empty space

like feathers

" birds of a flock "

you used to tell me, so insignificant

yet so significant

I miss your voice.

it's hard to hold on, when there's just so much to let go

so much to give up, so much to forego

I don't want to forget, I don't want to remember

the way your lips tasted against my skin.

End of the day.

She didn't like how he said goodbye,

all shaky words and watery eyes

because if he couldn't be strong either,

who was going to pick her up?

Never knew.

Would you still remember the way my eyes move,

firelight and starlight fluttering like moths,

and the way that my lips tasted of strawberries

in the midst of all the curling cigarette smoke,

the way your lips fit so perfectly in that little cavity

a pillow between my collarbone and neck,

my heartbeat pulsing and pushing against your tongue,

the way your fingers slide in so perfectly with mine

jigsaw-pieces stitched together with silver rings

numerals spinning with the tick of the stopwatch,

the way your breath rolled down my spine,

waves lapping up my thighs and rain with kisses

would you forget the whispers and sighs

the promises made every 11:11 the familiar tears

and would you remember the way my back arches

when you kiss me, the taste of clear spring water?

Not an artist.

If someone gave me a paintbrush and told 

me to paint my feelings onto a canvas,

i'd choose to paint the stars and the northern lights 

because I could never capture your smile the 

way you capture me and the stars are the 

closest thing to how bright you are

so don't burn out, not yet.

Ghost of you

Was i waiting for the whispers

echoes of your name rolling down starched lips

cracked, dried blood (i can feel you seeping 

into my pores) wedges in between

forcing them apart, but I was never really 

together anyway(?)

Dust motes are my only 

lovers at this time of night,

and you're fading.

Two different things.

You are like water and i am oil

.

Sometimes I would forget your existence

and instead chase after sober dreams, mere fragments

of thoughts and realities spun into a complex narrative

befitting for a true prince and princess of fairytales

.

we're forever apart

yet so perfectly together

Even if.

And even if forever was never,

i'd like to spend them in your arms,

even if forever was never, really, truly

enough.