if you hold your heart close to mine it would burn- it would burn till it becomes carbon blackening the sides of your ribcage- until bones morph into stygian and shatter under the hollowed pressure of your breaths telling me: "I will love you until the end of time", and now there you stood before me with nothing to cage your heart tricked into love, and as much as I would like to hold it close---
my ivory flame traced palms weren't meant to hold your wooden heart- they weren't made to hold anything at all.
oolong tea leaves told you so long ago: I wasn't meant to love.
i was the half-faced girl in the skeletal flower garden sewing torn out butterfly wings with threads of fate: breathing them back to life and back into chrysalis and back into rebirth as a past time.
i was the metal glass doll forged with solar flares under wishing well water; the marionette with wish tainted skin which remained as wishes forgotten floating aimlessly on the surface of cerulean tainted porcelain that suffocated in the atmosphere of short fused time marked by her maddened clockwork irises drunk on the philosophies of morality.
i was the creature drowning in her own tears that turned into a sea of lava of love unrequited that she kept away in the chambers of her heart, causing it to circulate throughout her body and eventually burning the cardiac organ and everything between her flesh and her bones, leaving her as hollow madness made to face heartbreak in every lifetime- still hurting, still deranged and forever empty.
why are you trying to love me when you know that i wasn't meant to be loved?
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love; and other disorders
Poetry"i just sat there, coughing frightful swans birthed from milk grapefruit flower love to swim in the pools of midnight, as you (with your fingers slightly touching mine) charmed the half-crazed moon with a rare rosen wine berry into what we were: a 2...
