i never used to smoke
but since you left,
it’s the only time i can seem to breathe

like water
I poured myself into her until she was overflowing at the brim

like reinforced steel
I bridged my heart to hers and welded myself to her soul

like the sun
I filled myself with light to cover her darkness

like a blanket
I shielded her from the harsh world underneath the covers

like magnets
I orbited her aura until we inevitably collided

like a seed
I felt myself growing up from her

Then, like an idiot
I could tell she felt nothing.

Be,
As a love
Whom together,
Discovers
The art of sin

Ask,
Not of the wrongs
Nor rights
But,
If the sweet cherry
Seeps or flows

Approach,
A figure, yet
Merely a reflection
In fruits,
Not leaves

Gaze,
Vanilla cream
Opposing,
One robust
In darkness
And desire

Fuse,
The sensation
Of honey dancing
Upon buds,
Of taste

Addiction,
The willingness
To enable,
The expedition
And art of sin

She told me i'm not worth her time
She stole my heart, a ***** crime
Only left of memories when you were mine
Now it's gone, l press rewind

It hurts cause l need you
Hands in mine, made us two
What we had, l wish we grew
Cause you broke hearts, l wish l knew

I have kissed boys

Girls

People in between

But lately I have been kissing bottles

Their lips are colder than yours

But slowly I have realized that the pounding headache when I wake is less hurtful than the shattering in my chest

Yet as these toxins rush through my veins

I can't help but miss the tracing of your fingers along my skin

Miss the numbness of the world when you lie with me

But when I wake I remember that a headache is treated with an aspirin

While heartache

Well if you have a cure for Heartache let me know

You can always tell a self destructive writer
By their poetry

Because sometimes they are redundant
And other times they are expressing pain

But they always tell a story of being hurt
And locked into their own head

But this my dear, is why they write
Because the person in their head is trying to get out

Self destructive writers
Are usually dark

But when they are light
They tell you how perfect you are

So that you don't do the same thing
That they did to themselves

Self destructive writers
Don't want you to make their scars
On your arms

And over time,
My pen stopped bleeding
But my heart didn't