I write because my pens give me no other choice.
Our love is a lie And we whisper it When no one is around Under sheets that smell like you. We taunt each other
By Ava Myers about a year ago in Poets
I think my heart is two sizes too big And it doesn't fit inside my ribs anymore So I have to wear it on my sleeve instead
Part of me wants to scream at you, “Love me or leave me” But another part of me is scrambling On the floor, desperate for the
Are you in love with my fragile sanity Or is it just a toy you play with When you’re so very bored? Does it entertain you to hear my screams
You will probably never understand my anxiety, The way it wraps around my ankles like ropes And ties my wrists behind my back with knots
When you inevitably break my heart, Don’t forget to take it with you When you leave me - For it is yours, broken or not,
I’m the worst thing that ever happened to you you won’t admit it but it’s true - I break your heart on a whim
Lay on the floor because you belong there In the dust left by more successful feet. You shouldn’t move, sleep to the sounds
I don’t know how to tell you But I don’t do so well When the darkness engulfs me Like flames licking at the Alter of a church
He says he wishes he could write like me as if it’s a skill to be taught and learned, as if it’s something I didn’t sacrifice for,
Would you bloody your knuckles For my poor little broken heart? Bury the body, ask no questions, And take me to bed
not catholic enough for one, not atheist enough for the other, I am caught in a tug-of-war between divinity and hell fire
