I told myself I was doing a study of form and figure
As I lay there hoping to die...
The sky looked so empty
I felt so empty
Existing was hard enough
​

they will ask you to cripple in their arms
as they feed you lies about the person you are meant to be...
give them every reason to be upset....

Dear Mom,
A flower in your garden of three is dying
it began to wilt years ago
I remember when you noticed
you couldn't help but  
blame yourself.
Asked what you could do differently
so you showered it with love
let it bathe in your warmth
 reminded it that its roots were a foundation to lean on
a foundation of stability
a foundation of strength
but still
the parasite ate away at the beautiful bud
weak stem 
and petals that never got to unfold
still
you always said it was beautiful
always hoped it would find the light
but darkness enveloped the seed 
and gripped it so tight it barely reached the surface
and now
now the plant is dying
and I just hope when it passes
you don't find a way to blame yourself

I dream of telling you "I love you" 
sparks fly the minute you say it back
but the butterflies in my stomach will die the second I am reminded that "we" could never be.
I dream of a petal picked romance,
a balance of high and low moments
you remind me that my dark days are just that...
 moments...
I bathed myself in your kindness
and watched as it mended my wounds
conversations with you 
are enlightening
I don't know how it is
that you do, what you do
but it hurts 
it hurts
attempting to convince myself 
that you are not the one
when every fiber in my being
is telling me to love you
telling me to care
and at the same time
reminding me to stop.