My favorite part of your body Are your hands. They feel like Warmth Sun Light And a little more Ethereal to the touch Than the rest of us. *Inspired by Rupi Kaur
Waiting for love is like Waiting for warmth in December Or for snow in the middle of summer-- It's as consistent as the weather And as simple as an atom, Or a quiet explosion-- But I can't seem to find it.
Talking sounds more like listening To bursts of thunder crackling in the distance Filling the room with static Until the build up in our space becomes charged with rage-- Until everything has changed-- Until our bodies become nothing but pieces of wreckage: A chaotic explosion … Continue reading Listen
His touch grips the revolver in my mind and sets it off with a burst of color-- Drained to white As pain replaces the adrenaline and leaves me Wasted.
My mind is sick. There is a cancerous cell closing in on all sides until my eyes close for the day and give me time away from myself. My mind is sick, and I can't escape it.
My bones are fractured in small cracks and lines throughout my body. I've been struck by a disaster that knows no category or scale to describe-- It has broken me into pieces and left me in screams of agony From the absence of light. I am … Continue reading Angel
Depression: an absence of hope, filled with apathy, sitting in an empty house devoid of any colors or windows or doors. Sometimes I can hear a low rumbling drone, like a constant flow moving away from me, but I can't place it. I can't decipher … Continue reading Left Behind