Losing You Felt Like Hell To Me
My heart was a runaway
and you were my home.
You could cut me open
a million times and I
would still follow you
straight into hell.
My heart was a runaway
and you were my home.
You could cut me open
a million times and I
would still follow you
straight into hell.
but it is in me,
this bottomless grief,
another organ in my body –
always pulsating,
always infecting,
always eager to kill.
Success is not money. Success is not fame. If it were, we wouldn’t have made different words for them in the first place.
“i am a feminist” and spit
on their wounds,
drag their bodies across the earth
until they revert into mud.
Don’t expect anyone to come to your rescue. Rescue yourself.
She will be all you think you’re looking for, but she will not be who you want her to be.
I guess in the end I don’t really want or need a boyfriend/girlfriend. All I want is someone I can be intimate with.
My anxiety is a stranger intruding our house. He smashes family photos by accident, loots all jewelries with intent.
We are not your “entertain me and just shut up if it’s not poetry or art or inspirational” machines.
Now my dusks are a blast of frigid air, and I am left breathless as I break free from the shadow of your existence. My self-pity will never be anymore and god, it is so good to fall asleep.