Roses are red
Violets are blue

My love is far overdue
For I lack a better muse

My heart twinges and aches
for a breath as
I crave a love tainted in
ashes and glitter—

dusted away in a moment
captured by a hearts flutter;
my mind wanders
as my mouth stutters.

I am wasting away
in burning desire.

My heart twinges and aches
to be held
for more than a temporary
fire.

I still remember
the first time
I thought about death.

Or— dying, in itself.

I remember
how my hands
gripped the wooden handle,
little fingers
trembling
from the intensity.

I was—
quite literally,
holding on
for life.

I remember
how curious
I was—
how my thoughts
raced
for endless miles.

What would happen to me?
Would it be messy?
How would it feel?
How bad does it hurt?
Would anyone miss me?
Am I too young?
Will it get better?

And so,
I put away the knife.

I climbed to the top
of my bunk bed,
each step heavy,
like I was
clinging to life.

And I continued
my cartoons.

Time has called to claim my brain—
I am decaying and maimed,
but know that the wage of my age
can never outweigh the price I paid
to be in your embrace.

The wrinkles on my face
declare a lifetime saved.
Within my pain, you rise from grace,
and in the spaces we paved
our love remains forever engraved.

With trembling hands
and a quiet pace;
I burrow in every plate
to hold onto your taste.

With weak knees,
bruised black and blue;
I would swim through a typhoon
just to make my way back to you.  

Although my wisdom is faltered
and was never innate,
you summoned a great lover
in this withered world
full of hate.

I crave the hues of your eyes
in every painted evening sky;
the brushstrokes of the setting sun
recall my flushed cheeks:
your smile to adorn—
and in every landscape I seek
the roads still cheekily lead me back
to your street.

A poet who has lost her reason to rhyme
forgets: there is no truth another can define.
And time is tried—
yet chains on the soul are never refined,
for they are fortified in the minds eye;
the songs of the soul cannot be confined.

A lie—
to unwind and untie,
to simply pass by—
to try and retry
to reign high
and ascend to the sky
leaving behind
what has already died.

I rhyme to pass time;
for no particular reason,
just my own personal pleasing.