Hanging by a thread,
losing all my sanity.
God, please don’t break me.

My bosses always ask me,
why I take my box cutter home with me.
I always give a smile,
look them in the eyes,
and tell them that people tend to steal mine,
if I leave it in the stockroom.
But in reality,
I keep it on me,
for the peace of mind,
in knowing that I can remove the razor from the plastic case,
rinse it off,
put it against the skin of my hip,
and slice away.

No matter how much I consume,
Nothing intoxicates me more,
than the taste of your name
on my tongue,
or the feel of your breath
on my lips.

13 Feb 14 at 10 pm

Asked by Anonymous

asker I just wanted you to know I love your poetry. Thank you :)

Thank me? Thank you! I’ve never had anyone tell me that they liked my writing before. You’re positively lovely.

My world is spinning,
and my body numb.
Reality is gone,
as I’m left in a fog,
blindly searching,
for what I don’t know.
As if you’d actually appear,
take my hand,
and erase my fear.
But even in,
this drunken state,
I know that you’re,
in someone else’s bed.
Sleeping soundly,
next to her,
as the music rages on here,
like the pounding in my head.
Wishing things were different,
and that you’d be loving me instead.

You’re all I think of…
Can I be loved by you, boy?
Or am I too mad?

Sometimes I still wish,
that I could call you mine.
I wish that I could still,
trace your jawline
like I was reading braille.
Learning you as if,
I was learning a new language.

When was the last time
that you decided to do
something for yourself?

How dare you make me
feel like I never mattered
when I gave you all.

I can’t remove you,
or thoughts of then from my heart,
lest it stop beating.