He fills my freckles with blue,
My hair with yellow.
Oh to see the world as you do,
I would give every future breath
for a moment of clarity.

A mouthful of sorry before I'm even at fault.
Careful tiptoes across an icy layer of conversation.
I will burst through the thin floor.
I always do.

I'm so sorry.
I don't know why I'm like this.

I am a house without a single window.
No air allowed inside of my swollen lungs.
No vacancy in the clogged doors to my words.
Please keep out.

I really do apologize.
I'm such a ******* mess.
I'm not poetic
Or artistic
Or anything but terrible.
I'm sorry that I'm terrible.
You see, I really can't help it.
Except I know that I can.

I'm drowning,
I'm drowning so fast and I need someone to tell me I'm going to breathe again.
There's no air allowed in my flooded pipes and
I am now humbly dead.

Now that my body is an abandoned house,
There is something I must confess:
I'm scared.
I am really ******* scared.

There's familiarity within this young feeling.
Your hope is freedom I flourish on.

First hand held,
kiss stolen,
neck marked,
thigh bruised.

All is foreign to us both,
Yet I feel ancient in your arms.
You paint me in certain a light that can only be seen in the blackest of nights.

Yellow glow swatches your eyes with pure affection,
I feel you everywhere.
You drink me and suddenly my body is nowhere to be found.
The puzzle pieces are fitting quite nicely.
Through loving you,
I feel beyond loved.

Fumbling down into a rough forgiveness,
I trust you again.
We dance in a circle of pink hugs and hope.
This time it will last.

I've finally won you back;
After years of chipping away at your scull and jabbing your heart,
I've learned to caress your fears and soak your joy.

Yet this only lasts for a breath or two.
I am once again blue and hollow.
It's time to break my own heart.
Not the first time, won't be the last.

I am addicted to the bruises I give myself.
It's not a matter of choosing sadness, but rather choosing anything.

Anything is better than this rusty cage I call my home.
Hot anger, sharp dejection, grey terror.
I let it all fill me.

I let it fill me to the brim,
because destroying myself is the best way to know that I'm still alive.

Scrape the sides of my stomach for emotion.
I know it's in there somewhere;
somewhere past the flesh-eating butterflies and yesterday's *****.

You say you'll help me swim,
But only when I'm drowning.
Those words **** my butterflies and fill their space with warmth.

Treading water in the murky pool of blood in my brain has never been easy;
a lifeguard may be just what I need.

You're not a physic,
You're not a doctor,
But you're helping,
And I can't thank you enough.

The world turns a dusty shade of indigo.
Peach lipstick smiles and damp car windows pull us miles closer.

"The sky was painted just for us,"
I want to tell him.

But truth be told, I don't even know the artist's name.

Maybe the inky landscape has always been here; viewed countess times by many such as ourselves.
The infinite dreamers who feel entitled to its beauty.

But I know the truth,
and I have a feeling he does too.
The world is not mine and mine alone.
It belongs to you and I and everyone between.

So as we gaze into the galaxy around us,
It somewhat comforts me to know that we are not alone.

Small girl, my young girl;
Picturing an older copy.
A makeup wearing, boy crazed machine of intellect and grace.
A rare thought but a strong one.

Older but not old enough.
Missing bolts and screws;
Somehow still working.
I see something in a mirror that makes my organs plummet through the floor.
I'm not her.
Never have been;
Never will be.

Big girl, but not large enough.
Hair fallen out and swollen gums.
Bruised skin and flushed face.
Ripped soul but a full heart.

The mirror tells the same story,
But in a different font.
My once hollow skeleton is now filled with music and chipped paint.
I am the same damaged goods.
I am ripped skin and muffled coughs,
Cookie dough ice cream and kisses on the cheek.

I'd gotten so lost from my former-self that I didn't realize something now obvious:
I never stopped being her.
I will never stop being her.

I will never be young enough, old enough, happy enough, brave enough.
But I am me;
and I am more than enough.