Oh, my sweet canary
how lovely you are
a vibrant yellow
my long awaited happiness
has finally come.
county fair fairy tales.
baby blue and pale rose intertwined
like swirls of cotton candy.
you left me for the ferris wheel,
i was stuck on the teacups.
you offered me a candy bracelet,
rings of lilac, blueberry, and lemon.
but too many sweets will give you a cavity,
and i’ve already lost all my teeth.
fight, defeat, repent, then repeat.
my inner monologue
is climbing up my throat;
twisting my stomach into knots
choking on the words
i desperately tried to make you understand,
i prayed to the gods you forced me to worship that clemency would engulf you;
that you would drown in it,
cleanse yourself in my sorrows.
but those eyes of amber and onyx glowed scarlet that day.
you shoved my words down my throat once again,
and i’ve had an irregular cough ever since.
why should i
write poetry about you
pour my heart out to you
when you won’t answer my calls
when you fail to acknowledge my mere existence
when you tear me apart piece by piece
then leave me instructions on how to put myself back together
then come back in the nick of time
to help me just enough
just enough to leave me on the edge of a breakdown
just enough to blame it all on myself
but not enough to leave
i should write poetry about you
because you’re part of me
and maybe that’s why i dislike you so much
I stared at the flowers
the flowers I see everyday
and in a desperate plea for your attention
I planted the flowers in your mind
and they blossomed.
ideas flowed from your mind to mine
and onto the tan pages of my journal that I bought on a rainy day
with the hopes of filling it with my aspirations on a sunny day
instead, I filled the tan pages with cries for help when the storm hit
because I stuffed a rose between the pages of my old journal
and the rose died
and now the pages are tainted
but perhaps it was for the best
because I kept a few seeds
and planted them in my pen
and I poured out my heart on those tan pages
but then I lost the pen.
I suppose it’s fitting,
because I never learned the name of the flower.
I think it was poisonous.
ever since I was a young girl
I showed love
ample amounts of love
to everyone who stumbled upon this broken path.
this world has begun to corrupt me
corrupt us all
and peace is buried deep underground
in the bunker uncle made
to keep us safe.
and living in a world
surrounded by fake love
and authentic hate
and i’m not easy either
I live a life of extremes.
my rainstorms turn to floods
and my floods turn to tsunamis
And when I fall
my life becomes an avalanche
a blizzard of emotions
all different, but all the same.
And when my heart aches
I cause earthquakes.
seismic waves to travel farther than my eyes can see
I cause wildfires
and burn everything in my path
I leave a burnt path
paved with catastrophe
for anyone who’s willing to follow it.
(please don’t follow it)