lemonade

and it's just a glass of water

you're staring into

and you're the cup's

half-full

kind of girl

and the water tastes

a lot more bitter than it should

it's the corners of his smile

that reach out like chains

to wrap around your ankles

and p u l l you in

and you're drowning in it

drowning in your reflection

soaking up the reflected light through your pores

you drink it in

the condensing beads of self-hatred and loathing

running d

                o

                     w

                                                         n the side of your glass

and you're caught in this m    z    of thought

                         a    e 

itunes on repeat

                                     how did i miss this?

what's wrong with me?

                                                   what did i fuck up this time?

and maybe, maybe a part of you is asking

what did i do right?

what did i do so perfectly that it managed to push you to this?

[and maybe a part of you thinks

that this is all you'll ever deserve

-- it's not.]

a lone droplet

sends a thousand ripples across

the inertial waters

and it's stained your cheeks

and let's not kid ourselves, here.

you've never been

a

glass

half

full

kind of girl,

and maybe,

maybe

that's just fine.

for thedreamer

i love you, always, and be strong.

strangled moon

your curtains stifle the moonlight,
and no one can see us.

fingers trace sigils of love and protection and mine,
on your cheekbones and wrists and spine.

dusky, dark; an empty sky,
eyes woven with all its colours and brushing stardust on your skin,
blinking, flickering across, effervescent.

you're gone, tomorrow morning,
but only because he wants you to be.

turn up the volume

there's sunlight pouring in through your windows and i can see you wince

with each step i take across clear cream floors, each sound

amplified like a surround sound system to your heart

kickstarting it like a refibrillator, jolt by jolt.

"don't be an idiot. anyone could walk in."

"so what? have i ever cared?"
a brush of the lips is all
it takes for you to
give in to me,
all of the
time

three little words

     there's something
     [trapped]
     bet-                                        -ween
            the net of my vocal chords
            like ~fish in the sea. i
p-u--l---l them kcab, that tide
    of feeling and force a different
         iambic triameter past poetry-
                                     kissed lips -

                    "how are you?"