My sweet boy

pretty boy says , I’ve got those eyes .

looking into the mirror has always been revolting . I recognise her , winter leaves frost bites on my neck as the flowers in my lungs decay .The butterflies are leaving now , they left a note , saying they don’t feel at home anymore , funny how you said that the day you left . They’ve sent the moths though. The moths take care of me now . I stand in front of the sink , the ripples of water control the inevitable fire that’s growing in the pit of my sanity . I break pieces of myself to debris so others don’t . pity glazes my skin and sits on it like she’s home .

the moths makes me unspeakably weak against the light

pretty boy says , I’ve got those eyes .

I look in the mirror again .

today’s the day , the devil steals the show

I feel the last butterfly turn vicious but he smiled at me today asked me about dad, funny how he remembered. Moths crawl under my skin and into the steams of my lungs as I cough out blood . It stole my soul and fed the void .

I’m in a far off land now, the opium of despair sits in my heart .my sweet boy told me he will not be returning home anymore . I had him;almost.

All those times I had him near in all his destructive brilliance , I wasted it .

Have you ever been loved he asked,heinous .

the pain growing in my chest subsided as he pulls away each time .

He told me today he didn’t like the way I exist , it hurts less cause he’s no longer oblivious of the demon I’ve grown up to become .

Pretty boy ; come back

He once asked me what home was and all I could think of was the stars at the tip of his tongue and how he had the whole galaxy in his eyes . The flowers in his hair and the roots entwined in the gaps of his fingers , the ocean echoing inside his rib cage was all I could think of . But god , I look at him and know , I could go to hell just to keep him warm . We are like a mess of sadness and phobia, funny how I didn’t tell him anything and continued to smile in an attempt to misdirect him .

wish the world was ending tomorrow so I could say , “ come with me , so We can love each other without restraints or fear cause the world is ending tomorrow.”

perhaps I didn’t love him like I should’ve because I thought we had time . what if we don’t ? What if we are just living in an unknown oblivion? what if we were meant to be thats why there’s strings attached , I bet he feels it from miles away .What if his love is the only illusion I want to hold on to ? Ah , only if the world was ending tomorrow I could love him with all I have giving up on all my fears . I’m tired and I can’t think of a place or a thing . My sole wish is to lie with his head on my lap and stay that way throughout eternity .

being broken pushes you to one’s disposal to dealing with vulnerable things that have imprinted their fossils in the deepest veins of their heart.

my mom once told me when I was 7 after she saw me playing with a broken glass piece ,

“it doesn’t take much to break a broken thing , comes with negligible repercussions “

it’s been 11 years now and it all comes back ,

I question the bruise on the corner of your eye before leaving marks on your neck ,

yet you doesn’t recognise me .

You do not love and you do not know;

how do I tell you

that I can’t keep fighting ,

the broken glass pieces are blunt now

they don’t cut deep enough .

Will the depth of my love be measured by the depth of my wound ?

you’re all you have and yet you never learn to like yourself at all ,

You continue to follow and satisfy every perspective idea that people have created of you

and only because ,

you will die in someone else’s heart just like you were born when you meet someone new .