I came back but i was gone in your eyes
Like a house with all the lights off inside
I reached out through the summer shadows and the wildfire smoke
But love don't ignite just cause you hope

Last night, I felt the emptiness of the moon
No one around just the ghost of you
As alone as I’ve ever known how to be
Empty room, no air left to breathe

I don’t feel beautiful I don’t feel real
Like a melted ice sculpture someone forgot to feel
Chords in my chest, I'm not a willow tree and I cant bend
Strumming the sting of the bitter end

I needed you

I tried to be sultry enough, but enough ain’t love
You held me like a sweet memory, not like holy blood
Running cold now through every vein
I call your name but it’s just pain

I thought you'd see the seashells still in my hands
But you changed like the tides, and now my heart is sinking sand
You used to know the melody of my soul
Now it’s just unwillingness.
There's a stiffness about you
and I'm listening to all your songs
but this time around,
I hear broken notes

I don’t feel beautiful, I don’t feel seen
a quiet cematary of love that might have been (and we dwell there)
Guitar chords cutting right through my skin
Each one a scar where you had been

I needed you

What’s left behind is heavy and true
The aftermath of my sickness, still holds you
I’m picking up pieces of who I was
But they don’t fit like they did, because…

I don’t feel beautiful, not anymore
Like a cold icy heart that’s melted on the floor
But somewhere in this broken tune
Is proof we loved so hard,
even with our wounds

I needed you

Poems DON’T bloom—
They rupture.
They ignite,
Like a fire in your soul,
Waiting to explode,
Like gasoline in a burning room.

Poems
Are those
Who land deeper than the largest crevasse—
Those that leave you glaring,
Wide—unblinking eyes.

Waiting for the next punch
To your heart,
Like music crashing into your body
When you have the volume too loud.

Poems are meant to claw,
To rip,
Open your ribcage,
To smear
Your blood—pain—EVERYTHING
In front of you,
To show you it’s okay
For ALL to exist;
To trick
Your heart
To love,
Hate,
To turn fear
Into fate.

There are supposed to drip blood
In words that were NEVER meant to be said.

Every line,
Something I couldn’t bellow,
So I sharpened
My words like a knife,
Till my words bled
Blood—
I could never give back.

I LIVE for blood,
I LIVE for pain.
I LIVE for the world to not
Care
What it’s left for me,
What the world’s done to let me decay.

Each verse of silence,
Each verse of pain,
Each verse of anger,
Of shame,
Or hate,
Of love,
IS YEARS
OF SWALLOWING
MY OWN BLOOD.

YEARS.
OF HATING MYSELF.
YEARS.
OF NOT TRUSTING ANYONE
Who said…
“I’m here,”
“I’ll listen,”
“I’ll help.”

LET THAT BURN.

YEARS.
OF PAIN.
YEARS.
OF SHAME,
FOR WHAT THEY DID,
FOR HOW THE WORLD
TAUGHT ME WRONG.

You call my poems BRAVE!?
…THEIR SURVIVAL.
THEIR BLOOD.
I WAS NEVER
ABLE TO PUT BACK
IN MY BODY.

Poems are my baggage;
Each weighs—
A ton.

What is a poem?
A POEM?
It’s the moment before you scream,
When you realize you can’t say
What’s digging into your mind.
It’s rhyming stanzas
Disguised as hatred.
It’s love
Dressed as rhythm.
It’s pain
Hidden
As syllables,
Each word—my teeth.

Poems are MEANT
To be messy,
MEANT
To be ugly,
MEANT
TO LIVE—

Even when others
Think they shouldn’t have ever
Lived that long,
When you’re told to leave it in your head.

You want a Poem?
SIT in my blood.
I’LL sit in yours.
I’ll comfort you,
If you do the same.
I’ll be there in your brightness,
And in your darkness,
With the faint glow of the candle
To illuminate
Your shattered
Ship.

Writing is a freedom;
It’s everything
Anyone could need.

A poem doesn’t need to be perfect—
…just…let it be you.

THAT’S what a poem is MEANT
To do.

I am igniting fire--flame.
You tried to test me,
Causing pain.
It is you--who I blame

Hit the breaks, no room for mistakes,
feeling like the world's about to quake.
Caught between the choices I've made,
lost in stormy weather on an abandoned lake.

No directions— no clear route to take,
so many choices — afraid which to make.

You ask what I want and I know you'd like to think its your hands on my skin
But love, i’m a priestess
living in a far away temple within
you could never go to this place..

and most of the time, I don’t crave a body..I just crave a face
I want a holy possession
when they say
my name

Honey this sn’t romance..it’s my rite, a call
to shatter the madness and the lies once and for all
I crave the dark light, the sacred tone..
To sway in the majestic
of my singing voice alone

It’s been caged in shadow, captive in broken dream
What I need is to burn on stage, where I’m meant to be
No lover can touch what I ignite
My war, my worship, my birthright
What I’m after... is my soul

You ask what I want and I know you'd like to think its red roses
But love, i'm a gardener
and I got my own bouquets
and you could never..ever...
see my place

and most of the time, I don't crave your ***
most of the time, I just want...

someone there
as I dance
to myself

Selfish woman I am
Sable on Blond...I'm in a fight
forever with my own hell
right and wrong

I need my stage
I need my song
You have taken a part of me for sure love,
but I'm not yours to hold
Time to fly away
if you didnt know
Im
a
bird on a wire
Island dove

I am a well, almost dry, from which no lasting life has sprung.
I am an object of no desire.
I am a short and miscalculated sum.

I give no comfort; joyless, for I am an empty ***.
The numbness never passes.
I am a fire that burns, but never gets hot.

And I will take the blame,
For it’s all that I see offered me.

No matter your perspective, or the strength of your connections,
In the dark,
In the silence,
We are all of us alone.

If you’re part of a collective, if you share strong predilections,
Whether hopeful,
Whether hateful,
We’re, in all our truth, alone.

And I will take the blame,
For it’s all that I see offered me.

I no longer bend.
I only break.
I see no further
Steps to take.
And every thought
Seems a mistake.

And I will take the blame,
For it’s all that I see offered me.

I never got to know me,
And now there’s little of me left.
But I cannot cry injustice,
Or brutality, or theft.

It was merely that I hid behind
Whatever I could find.
And how could I think to reach myself
When I’ve never really known my mind.

I know he loves me, though I know not why.
And the voice inside is cruel and cold.
I scrape it out. It builds again.
I create new wounds out of those that are old.

And I will take the blame,
For it’s all that I see offered me.

My words are wrong.
My thoughts are wrong.
My perspective is a mess of sand.

I can’t **** the parts selectively,
But I can **** it all,
Or else make it bland.

And I will take the blame,
For it’s all I ever could see offered me.