Music

‪I love the way music feels on my skin‬ Goosebumps rise when I hear it This is what I needed to hear This is what I needed to feel

Die. Dying. Dead

Poured a glass that was tall but empty Dehydrated everything that nourished me Should I call this love Or an unselfish act

Fault

I had given my heart away to a person I thought would give me theirs What felt like an eternity I walked alone blindly I peeled back layers of myself to prove to you my loyalty

Her Imperfections In Standards

Society's definition of standard hands slowly grip tighter around her neck You're not small enough You're not big enough Your bosoms don't bust the seams of your shirt bringing the men who wallow in thirst to their knees

Stolen

You were my reason my words were spoken out loud You were my audience You listened to the words i had never heard myself say You were the first

Artsy Nothing

These words an image in the mind of a hand that paints the view that only an artist can feel to understand We tell a story We are all connected We are all eclectic; esoteric