❁

on my skin,

and blue

was his

a hope for growth;

but i fear with him,

i may drown.

spelling me

with warmth;

the sun loves me from afar,

until for it’s gaze

i begin to starve.

moon captures me

with light,

asservates i’m the star,

but even stars

and the wishes have all dried up

i’m out of change anyway

you’ll never have enough

you convinced me i was ordinary

that you were worth the cost

but i see to the bottom

i can’t lose what’s already lost

happy endings aren’t in stone

drafts aren’t the stories that live

love cannot come from a fountain

that never had it to give

after the math

there was a girl

made of dreams;

a butterfly,

in a forest full of trees.

the wind would twirl her

as she danced among the flowers,

the trees would sway in enmity,

for in freedom, laid her power.

until one day,

they sought it for their own,

poking holes in her flight,

ensuring never more to be flown.

now every night when the wind blows,

you can hear them all sing,

“come see the girl

a collector of the

tormented,

i am tragically

forlorn artwork

hanging in his gallery

accompany me in tears,

when it rains, it pours,

who am i,

if not yours?

saturated in uncertainty,

i am the center of the storm,

but it is here i will choose to grow

but how can i forget,

when a reservoir carved from tears

dwells below my bed?

the curtains have been drawn,

for the heart out on display,

ironic how the lover

seems to warrant all the blame.

maybe if i had tore down the delusions,

your facade would falter,

because only then will you taste

or maybe it’s drowning me

fullness never arises

in an empty bottle,

though it gives

a comfortable familiarity;

to the many ships i harbor,

all lost at sea,

as i am the wave,

which each collided

violently.

i consider a sign of caution,

beware of the tempest:

for she offers no remorse

to attempt to conquer her

yesterday she was yellow

today she is blue

tomorrow it’s likely

she will be green

step into my conscious

standards,

that don’t equate

to yours.

if perfection

weighed worth

i’d only ever

come up short,

insecurities stay exposing

the fragmented

pieces of me,

but you placed

an unfamiliar song

inside my heart,

and from the tethers

of my limitations

into the dark

certain your love for me

was liken unto the sun

i collected memories

as if they were stones

along the way

only to watch you build

a monument

fallacies bled onto my skin,

covering all rationale

with grace,

allotted

only to yourself.

labeled empty,

as you excavated

a path through me,

on the way to entertain,

nights become day,

vows of supplication

become obscured,

until i cannot differentiate 

the present from

the past anymore.

the clocks wind forward,

as internally mine

ticks backward,

awaiting cessation

from this revolving pattern,

“how could you? you aren’t like them. people like you see the good in everyone, but some people just have far too much evil in their hearts.” he reassured.

lifting her up from the rusted metal steps in the backyard of her childhood home, he wiped the tears from her cheek that she fought so desperately to prevent from escaping. he wondered what she was told that tainted her sense of self, but wishing he could absolve her from the inscribed chapters of disparage she kept locked away.

under the stars, her viridescent eyes sparkled in the street lit glow, so he pretended as if he was placing them in her hair in the shape of a crown. once satisfied with his work, he leaned in close enough that their noses were nearly touching, and whispered “there, now i hope you see yourself for the goddess you undoubtedly are.”