When we fight,

You get to walk away while 

I bleed out on your bed.

It leaves me with this empty feeling

Even if it’s over 

A painting 

That you see light in

That is just a bunch 

Of scribbles to me. 

Or if we fight over 

Jazz music 

Which seems to make you smile 

When it’s only a loud clustered 

Cacophony to me. 

Brash in brass. 

So,

I take my synthetic smiles 

In the morning 

And pray 

That I won’t see 

A jazz player 

Or a 

Splatter painting. 
 

Her lips are red,
Borrowed sweetness
From my own. 

Her mouth leaks smoke,
From her lungs,
Limp cigarette hanging from her 
Red lips,
Borrowed sweetness. 

I remember the day
I tried to tell her that
they’d kill her. 

She just laughed,
Saying that
That was the point. 

To die slowly 
But painlessly. 

Until the end,
When it all crashed down,
And she faded out.

With nothing but a 
Burning cigarette 
Between those red lips,
Borrowed sweetness. 


 

my secrets fall from your tongue 

like blood bouncing on snow

staining my hands red 

with the need for your 

validation

you said i 
couldn’t be 
who i am
so i wrote a 
story 
in black ink
on my arms
and collected your 
sighs in my chest 
saving them for a 
rainy day. 
 

maybe i deserve it
or maybe it’s just that 
i 
deserve 
you 

I painted his hands in 
charcoal, wiped
the dust on my pants 
and killed a part of 
myself for a piece 
of him. Now I wish 
he’d done it then

I bought a life online,
It shipped in two days,
I bought happiness from a doctor,
In the form of orange bottles,
I bought a friend from my mother,
I never see her anyway
And I sold it all to you,
In exchange for a beating. 
 

Her eyes softly close,
Her lips are red and bitten raw
From hours of debating with herself.
She runs a finger slowly over her bottom lip,
Trying to remember how he had felt.
The mirror she looks into reflects her image
but is cracked in places,
the kind of broken that isn't
"Let's-patch-this-up-with-some-duct-tape-and-good-luck" 
The kind of broken that is
'My-feet-feel-like-cement-and-my-lungs-feel-like-iron."

the world surrounded you
with coal
and you
made yourself
a diamond
you stand out now
and
who 
would
want
that


coal is a 
girls best 
friend
 

Why am I sad when my favorite color is yellow?
Why do I hate country music when I love playing acoustic guitar?
Why do I hate who I am, when I am made from the people I love?