I just can't find it in me,
I feel like a flower with falling petals right now
I've always enjoyed visitors
If you ask me to write about love at this point in my life
Remember you must die.
I refuse to waste my apologies
On the mosaic of wounds covering my fragile mind
I know you were raised broken too
Everyone and everything that touches me feels wrong now.
I don't think we are going to work out
I always do my best to avoid you.
Poetry doesn't pour out of young women's lips like milk or honey
When I asked what shoulder blades are for
What goes around, keeps going until it finds its way back.
the dichotomy of freedom & safety
Shedding insecurities like the falling of leaves – if only it was that simple and so easy
The picture painted by the shadows of periods, in the colour of words & emotions.
Period blues and their consequent crimson emotion.
Holding back on me, doing it for you. No more, no more.