violins may play

all the sad songs in the world

but my eyes do all the crying

how clumsy a note

to fall from the strings;

how beautiful

glass tears

that fall from the eye;

freezing rain

dropping like pellets

making careless dents

then melting

to erase the evidence.

what is this

in my body;

a metal mentality

to create

mental stability

like battery acid

a river in my veins

of carbonate

I choose

to swallow them whole;

capsules

that contain

my sanity

hands that shake

with toxicity,

skin;

now imperfected.

at what cost

do i achieve normalcy?

1200mg

the doctor tells me.

compared to you, dear

nothing more beautiful

has existed

than the quiet touch

of your fingers

where you make 

dips and dents

in my flesh

shedding

like a wilted snake skin

coiled at my feet

mirrors shatter

at the touch of my finger tips

they say a girl

is prettiest when she smiles?

well dear,

Im pretty ugly 

for a pretty girl.

don’t underestimate

the power of beauty

when it’s at the end

of a knife.

do you still want to kiss me

with my stained hands

all I can leave is evidence

red prints

across your precious skin

I’ve been here

but I’m leaving

before you notice.

sometimes It’s hard

to remember the days

before sadness

but in the time it took

to count my scars

a smile grew

from the roots

of despair.

filling me with intoxication

that makes me love

the flicking lighter

illuminating your face

with every hit

and words spilling

from your lips.

though it is not simply 

with the heart or mind

that I have loved you;

I have loved you 

with innocence,

nervous smiles 

and bitten fingernails

It was with my anxious laughter,

twirling my hair

that smelled of herb

from the nights

we kissed eachother

with smoke still in our lungs

inhaling eachother

like a baby’s first breath.

a raging sea

breaks waves

upon the shoreline

of your collarbones

and my hand

a vessel 

moves with

the rise and fall 

of your chest

tell me where 

to place your hands

ill tell you  where

to place my heart

these moments of touching

are beautifully fragile

in their tragic honesty

when seconds 

beg to be minutes

collapsing 

under this unforgiving clock

every hand tick

makes you

a part of my past.

it was not until

I touched your face

that i learned 

how to smell flowers

it is in the scent of lilies

and aroma of roses

that I have found

your hiding place

something crept in

possessed me in the night

in my silence

I so gracefully

opened my veins

to see what I could find