You begin looking at yourself like you're a plague and it helps nobody-- least of it, you.
Queen, forgive me for i have sinned (a plea of a poem)
painting a mural that represents my melancholy.
who’s a good wreckage? i am. (a poem)
a canvas with tears and cracks;
fallout– ah. (a poem)
the salt of the heart grows rancid;
exploding heart (a poem)
the ache and longing in your heart won't give.
it’s stupid, but it’s love (a poem story)
daggers in the heart couldn't make it thrum the way your words do, that sweet yet snarky tongue of yours. let me have it all.
bruised ego and texting first. (a poem)
you are not desperate if you text first; you are not needy if you text first -- even if you are both;
insecure linens (a poem)
a vista of coiling darkness plaided with a rush...
cul de sac: end of the road (a poem from a broken person)
how would i be able to blame you when i can't see beyond that myself anymore?
Wild Rose (a poem)
Stripped lingerie crumbles on the floor,