happinessisabutterfly

  I've always thought that when the time came I would drop that rope as easily as I had picked it up. but oftentimes, as we see; things don't really turn out the way we expect them to be my mistake had been to assume that I had control over the rope. my mistake was thinking that I was holding the rope, and that if the weight exceeded my capacity I would simply let it fall, I thought I could let the rope go. I sit here; I stand here; I lie here, digging my nails into the muddy ground, trying to hold onto the edge, trying to not be dragged below the cliff. I say trying because, as I've come to realize; I'm not holding the rope. this rope made of my love for you confines me; bounds me; restricts me. and it will eventually pull me over the edge through the weight of your apathy. as I'm tied up: struggling to escape the merciless clasp you have on me.

love is enough, more than enough it engulfs every part of me engulfs every part of you even when it leaves you blue two parts of one whole with matching tattoos something no one could ever undo or subdue your words see to my every whim something Achilles and Patroclus too are incapable of outdoing you, I would choose over the luscious chocolate choux love is enough, but more than enough? what is enough? not your words or your bluffs maybe my cuffed heart wrapped in your muff or my pride that lies on the floor of the undersea what about your locked door that I try to knock on? While you lay there knocked out, keeping me locked out Devouring precious Mary Jane as I grow precarious must you break through my pericardium so painfully? it engulfs every part of me, this ache along with the ague is love really enough? or was I just there for too long? on the worn-out bus till I started thinking it was a must and ignoring the dust was it really love? or were they just too good? your linguis...

  I can be what you want me to be ask me to sink to the ground and dust I'll become ask me to touch the sky and I'll be the cloud hovering over you but what do I do when you ask me to be "myself" what is this strange word "myself"? there is no me I am but the creation of pieces of everyone I have ever loved I am a canvas with no clear picture only blotches in the colors of all those I have danced with and lines shaped like everyone I have ever touched

if you think you're heartless then I'll give you mine and if that doesn't work I will break my own heart and use the pieces to fix yours. if you think you're not human then I'll give you my humanity, when the hope inside of you dies you can take mine. As someone who survives on mere hope, I would use the last flame from my candle to keep yours alive. I will give you everything I have because everything inside of me Is yours. every piece has your name etched so deep into it, that I could scrub my lungs that breathe your name and I could scrub my heart that beats for you until I tear them apart. yet you would remain there like a parasite fueling yourself with everything I have.

  our skinny love sat on the edge of my knife our skinny love underwater even at its spire tried holding on, but its soul was too impaired died faster than your arrow hit the dove broken bones and hollow screams as I disclose to my walls the beauty of your fire as I burned in desire as your fence grew higher higher and higher every day the tears implode from my eyes when I wonder if you tell your walls about the skinny girl her bright blue hair you liked to pull her trail of sadness you liked to fulfill do you tell your walls about me, baby? are your walls the ones you come clean to? or do they hear lies like mine do? like a solitary seashell on the shore, we had been sublime and frail, made to be stamped and crushed we knew we weren't built to last a sandcastle of beautiful words and stolen moments not to assume that eased the ache we knew we were born to die but that fire burnt brighter than the flashiest stars our skinny love as fragile as it had been you would have to be blind ...

you called yourself a fleeting thought in my head a means to an end my love you said, was a candle in the wind but baby don't you see how I keep running to you even as the soul of my shoes rips open and the rocks press into my feet I trip over the shoelace concrete puncturing my face I am bruised and broken yet I get up and run to you every time you hurt me I sit there and I take it and I sling my sword over your shoulder forming a cut nice and long but never as deep as the wound in my heart a wound shaped like you that you carved slowly with that poison-laced knife slowing my beats and reducing their count and you leave your blood dripping all over my floor red and hot and as dark as your soul that blood I lick clean with my swollen tongue in which my teeth dig as I choke on the words I hold back the unnatural purple caressing and kissing the floor like it caressed and licked your body on top of mine after all that, I washed my tongue for months cleaning and scrubbing and tasti...