Category: the broken hearts collection
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maybe i’ve lost my spark (the show must go on)
we’re running out of earth and the sun’s not on our side and i fear the moon turned angry and vengeful ∗ ∗ ∗ i think I’ve lost my spark my sense of wonder might be a little tired. or dead. the birds don’t sing to me like they used to and the sun seldom…
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if you must love me / if you must leave me
if you must love mepleasedon’t promise me the moonthen leave me with stardust in my hands if you must love mepleasedon’t throw me to the firethen leave me as smouldering ashes if you must love mepleasedon’t shut me outthen leave me freezing to death if you must love mepleasedon’t excite me, make my heart beat…
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Song of Mathéo
recently, i had an (online) friend of mine take his own life. he opened up about his sexual abuse story, and people started to clown him and make fun of him about it. perhaps that’s what pushed him to finally off himself. he wrote many poems, and one of the last one he wrote was…
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museum of things i want to forget
On days like thisI am a museum of thingsI want to forget,and therein I findportraits of heartsthat once adored meand since forgotten their vowscompadres that oncemilled around me,have deserted me now. therein I findmosaic of the soulsthat once touched meand leftbut still, pieces of them remainfor better or for worseand the memoriesare what glues them…
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Everything That Falls Must Break.
what goes up must come downwhat goes around must come aroundwhat floats may one day sink and drownwhat falls gets brokena million little pieces shattered opentrying to patch everything upwith soggy “I’m sorry” glueand valedictions of“it’s not me, it’s you”and“it’s not you, it’s me” hoaxes of faithless lovethat I would rather believe in,the kind of…
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you make me feel wanted.
don’t you ask me how I’ve beenand how i feelthen proceed to sit and listen you meet me crying in my roomface buried in handsstorm clouds above;“i want to be alone,”i mutterand those words seem to fly past youlingering at the doorwatching me like a hawk with eyes of disquiet. no matter how much i…
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When Broken People Love
When broken people lovethey’re mortified, petrified and terrifiedthat their mistakes will haunt and hunt;Grim Reaper – esque manner awaiting their next catch.and sothey seek validation & gratificationin every nookevery crannyevery crevice, crack and creeksort of like a golden retrieverearnestly expecting a pat on the headafter bringing back a stick during ‘fetch’. When broken people lovethey’ll…
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i used to be me
i used to be an exhilarating novel;a fascinating filmand now, a lonesome unpaired rhyme,a bland and blunt fable. i talked to the boy in the mirror;the boy i used to beand he shed a tearand he looked of remorse and sadness anger and fear i miss when i used to be me. ten birthdays ago,hundreds…
Emotion 