a moonlit path wasn't easy to see
the gentle steps were a coincidence
it smelled of alcohol and danger
footsteps continue to trail on
the alcohol wasn't burning nor blinding
more like a simple wine
bittersweet to taste
the danger was the kind that saved one's life
and no one could mistake
the cool night air
enfolding and protecting, this evening truly was
there was a reason
the night gave me a reason
as for the eve's very own dim light
the sun will always come back up in the morning

I'm done with you
I'm just going to ******* write
without thinking about
anyone
or anything
because my heart is fed up with hearing
all your music
and playing all your games
I'm sick of the tricks society gives me
because I want to be left alone
I'm done with you
I want to love
without overthinking
about a **** text message
I want to have fun
without worrying
that my body is too small
but the knot in my stomach
is never dying
I don't think it's going away
and the world ******* *****
for keeping it there
I'm done with you

The raging waters inside were too much,
Black waves crashing at every shoreline
The scared girl has yet to stop it and such,
The stormy clouds would not let the sun shine

She’s pacing and pacing over again,
The noise is just too loud and way too bright
The rocks on the sand will hopefully mend,
She can see some boulders right in her sight

The girl lets the rocks tumble onto her skin,
They pierce her, and she bleeds on this dark day
She stares at her beautiful, wounded sin,
It’s broken, but there is no other way

There are scars, but there are no more noises,
It takes some pain to silence the voices

the glinting, shimmering bottles on the shelf seem to be glaring at me
their penetrating stares create a twisted knot of guilt in my stomach
my friends come over, asking and asking for the invisible secrets in the clear glass
I deny their knowledge, another layer of guilt befouling me
a few of them have watched me unscrew my bottles
and they ran from me, as far as they possibly could
but one day,
he comes over to my house
my house with my shelf of glass bottles and quiet old me
he isn't interested in me or my bottles
but I am intrigued by his innovative, analytical presence
so loud and harsh are the colors surrounding him
but they are hiding something, I am sure of it
and suddenly,
a bottle falls out of his aura of light
he reaches down to pick it up hastily,
and looks at me, for my hand is on his fallen bottle
he looks at me with those secretive, manic eyes,
and then looks at the bottles on my shelf
he picks one out, and I let him open it,
for I am gently unscrewing his glass
the secrets fly out of both shining bottles
and enter the jars of our mind
I look at his face, which mirrors my own
the intensity of our understanding gazes is why I place my hand on his
and neither of us run away