Nin

They offer you a sugar-glazed deal of your own private island.

The rolling hills of paradise include strawberry fields and chilled drinks with little umbrellas.

They may shield your skin but won't stop your heart and self-esteem from getting sunburnt.

You’ll start to catch glimpses of the past when the sun glares in your eyes.

Sometimes they look like drunken parties but sometimes they're the blackouts.

If the tadpole didn’t jump on the frog’s back and hop out of that old rusty bucket, Where would I be right now?

As if the whispering willows were enough to fill out the sorrows hidden in my old cobweb-infested sneakers.

The winds shifted their destination to derail the flag nailed on the front of that age ridden tree. 

Consider sneaking out of your shattered home and meeting met at the edge of our dreary park. The metal fences around the perimeter sharpen their edges awaiting your arrival

Saying I want to know you, like really know you, is quite frankly an understatement.

You stutter and tease throughout the day and it can drain you really quick, darling. Quit being transparent with me, and I’ll order your identity for you.

The swings shiver when they notice your presence. It feels too cold at 2am under these dim lights for you to not speak to me

Envelope me in deep conversations and warm blankets,

walk with me down the cracked sidewalks. the blue overlayed atmosphere makes me calm as I take in deep breaths to exhale my poison. 

Hold my hand tightly so I don’t stumble into the trees. Squeeze them to confess your love.

Let the suburban corner store lights hit your figure and let your silhouette bath in the burning neon lights. 

The same blood flows through our veins but it feels unfamiliar and dirty; when you used to protect me from the flying kitchen cleavers, now the only thing that relates us is the muddy blood that flows through my head to avoid my heart. 

How do you look at them so bitterly, so angerly, they might as well just have punched you in the face.

they embraced you and showed you how much you feel you need to be needed.

You thought you were past this but then you checked back in the kitchen cabinet to see that your meds are still full and you’re out of control.

The gears in their minds stopped working

It was a gut feeling because the problem didn’t present itself on the outside.

There’s nothing poetic about being sick

Lilacs and daisies don’t grow in their brains and their stitches aren’t a lovely accident

tear stained chemicals have made a home in their veins.

They’ve gotten pass the monotony of the scheduled out routines, the ongoing reassurance that “everything will get better”

But they said a weeks stay was the longest and I’ve seen a child whose been living off a diet of false hope that his mom will someday come back to pick him up, that she hasn’t forgotten, and the fake smiles that are thrown away by his temper tantrums.

The sound of the fan in the background drowns out the ringing of the bell from the church down the street. I guess I feel too guilty listening to the chimes.

Reflections make you look so warped, it feels silly.

Remember when you were 7 and you got lost in the funhouse? The mirrors made your head spin on adrenaline and ignorance.

You thought there was only one of you, but walking around you spotted two, three, five, hundreds of the same figure waltzing around the narrow corridors