Shatter me.
Into a million pieces if you must.
I am too whole to stand by your side.
Too large to carry with you in your pockets.

So break my soul into shards,
And put me in your favorite things;
Like little horcruxes.

Your headphones.
Your credit-card guitar pick.
Even the color red.

Pour me into anything that you love,
For I want to be loved by you as well.
And I want to be with you,
Wherever you go.

So crumble my heart,
And harden it,
Then use it as a book mark.

Carry it with you,
And I will write lovely things
Onto your pages.

Shatter me.
And love me,
Until I'm not your favorite anymore.

I am that of a kicked puppy— bashed over the head many times,
before I come crawling back.
Back for that affection I seek, for that love I so desperately desire, only to see that they will never reciprocate.
But each time I hold that small, twitchy ember in my quivering hands, that little hope, that maybe,— just maybe, I’ll get something in return.
A crumb, or perhaps a pat on the head.
I starve for slop.
And hunt as the prey.

“Are you okay?”

Sweetheart, I write poetry
And some kindhearted people said I write it well
…
That can only mean one thing
My mind is an unescapable hell

“Yeah, just tired”

once in awhile,
i wish there was
someone else to
do the dishes,
make the coffee

but living alone,
truly being alone,
is one of the most
peaceful, luxurious
experiences

of my life,
and i'd take every
***** dish, every
empty coffee cup -

my true regret
is not learning this
particular lesson
a little sooner

i think the
irony

befits such an
ending -

you,
settled

me,
altered

permanently
unsettled

a trace of
you forever

running through
my veins

In keeping with tradition, stranger,
we will walk past one another and
not say a word.

I’ll glance nervously at converse on the
weedy walk; you’ll distract yourself
a nearby bird.

I’ll never know how you’ll cry alone
between linens tonight because you
realized you feel nothing.

You’ll never know how I pacify myself
with myths and lies just to keep
my composition.

We’ll both be lonely and never know
why. We both will always ache for
something we can’t name.

I have never met love
but I have seen it from across the room
it's just that I was unable to extend my arm
long enough to shake its hand
instead I daydream about you raising your voice
because the indifference is so cold
and I need some anger to keep me warm
when I forget my mittens and my confidence in California

My broken bones
In a decorative vase
In New York City’s living room.
What an honour it is to be
Misunderstood.
A tragedy, oh.
Look at the way her femur is cracked.
The pain she must have felt! To have
Tasted an ounce of it, I’d never
Understand.
And the pictures are taken
And the young boys don’t “get it”
And the girls laugh at their ignorance, as they themselves
Struggle for definitions.
But I am enigmatic.
My bones have no story.
My bones can be yours.

my whole world has come crashing around me-
since you left-like a kindergardener running out of elmers glue,
i cant hold myself together,
you've left me to fix a broken peice of work
(you used to think it was a masterpeice)
the love you confessed seemed so sureal
now i dont think it was so,