I’ll crawl into your bed and burrow under your covers. I’ll be your little secret, so quiet and so afraid. You’re killing me.

How fragile are you, I’m so reckless. You let me past your iron bars and I gave you more scars. But you hurt me, too.

Wings set hard, laying on the tile floor. Dead moth in the stairwell. Figures pass by; shadows bounce off

God, I think you’re there, but at home in my bed alone, it’s hard to know that you hear. I want to believe that you care,

I can’t stop thinking What’s the point? When I stop speaking It’s myself I disappoint. When I stop texting,

I have no way, no escape to calm their suspicions. I feel them looking, seeking,

I like you better when I don’t like you. As gray as the weather, Cloudier as the hours grew. My heart coming in letters

You are like a landmine, I’m trying not to set you off. Choking from the inside out, on the smoke that I cough. I don’t know where you lie.

Words are like art. Reading the text on a page and wishing I could write like tha… like words that spill from my pen come so naturally and