Inner child.

she was a child that wanted to grow up

who was not really a child anymore

who never really grew up at all

but this time around

the mistakes she will make aren’t so easily forgiven

which was cruel, she thought, in a childish way.

Caught.

“Are you cold?” you whisper, your warm breath caressing my ear, sending deep shivers down my spine. I shake my head slowly, afraid that maybe if I move too fast, you wouldn’t be able to catch me. 

And I need you to,

more than I’ve ever needed anything else.

Balloon.

she wants to let go of the things that hold her down

but she can’t help but want to stay grounded

because blood runs thinner than water and 

I’m tired about lying of not thinking of you

Bleh.

Hey, I might like you more

than I really should.

And I really should

stop

(soon) 

Sheets.

And you catch every single one of my breaths

in between your fingertips

and I love the way you move me

through the evening air

satin on satin

and the way you breathe my name

in the crevices of my neck

Open book.

each furrow between your brow is a story

each crease a paragraph where lines

are etched in words of black and white

sometimes grey because it’s getting harder

to tell what’s wrong or right.

Glitter.

She shows me the world

shards of glass grounded down

into thousands upon thousands

sinking into the carvings of her skin

she offers me the world

laughs and smiles and happiness

spilling between her fingertips

but I can’t seem to catch it so i watch it

fall between the gaps and drift

 down, down, down.

Find me.

I've sort of lost you,

somewhere down my spine

in between my third and fourth rib

you've sort of sunken in,

and for the first time 

in a long time

i've sort of lost myself too. 

Speed.

Cliche's aside,

you are my heroin

all powdery and broken and i'm 

a d d i c t e d

to your bowed head and sad smiles

breathe you in and let you rest

in the aching cavern 

between my 

r i b s

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

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

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.

I suppose

It's a new year, which means a new face, a new voice, a new attitude, a new life, a new me.

A new me, with the same old-and-broken-but-clumsily-fixed-together-heart