“I love you I’m just trying not to wear my heart on my text messages.”

Dry throat on the days I’d rather just watch the candle burn.

I want my cake and to eat it too but bulimia runs rampant and she is a fucking bitch.

If nothing else you have inspired me to write beautiful poetry if nothing else I bring words to the table with me.

Loneliness has taught me more things about myself than love ever has.

We are survivors we glisten in the sun for all the nights I died alone I did not know another woman carried my song and it is beautiful now look what we have become.

We live in a society where I am a crazy bitch for going to any lengths to keep you away from me.

Writing spiteful poetry in a chapel I realized I have to love you no matter what you do.

I do not want my worth to be centered in men with fangs for teeth I do not deserve to be degraded in a leather seat my worth is powerful you will never take that away from me.

Can anybody hear me? Are my words going to waste I need to believe there was a purpose to all the pain?

Sex is not a map to me anymore I am more than my physical body.

I fought my way through plastic men the woman in me learned how to show her teeth no matter how fucking unladylike they say it makes me.

I imagine poetry to be a living entity in me.

It may have been mad love but at least it made me taste something even if it was blood.

I believe the ashes of my past life were stepping stones to becoming free.

I wish I could drink my troubles away but I can’t even do that right.

Why do you call me only so you can control me god I know you are lying but remorse sounds so good in your throat?