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Mature Content

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the kind of destruction only i deserve.i'm sitting on a throne of thread spools
with technicolor knots wound around my wrists,
and i thought it would be enough to hold me together.

i am weak - thread-lines etched into my skin
because i always tie myself too tight,
convinced that if i add an inch,
i'll melt between cotton molecules, liquefied.

and i figured that i'd finally gotten it right;
between the bulges of my skin and bindings,
i'd managed to shut myself up, and shut you out.

i even installed double-paned glass into every window
so that if the wind ever came to welcome me home,
i wouldn't have to chatter my teeth,
like I was pretending to converse.

it wasn't en 1.in this memorymere moments hang themselves up
drying like the sleep in our eyes
clearing the dust from your smile
and the cobwebs from your laugh,

dreams, rêves, sueños, träume
      reared in fantasies and disguises
an imaginary friend who always
      wore blue and was as real as the sun.

the deep hum of the engine
     beneath shaky fingers
     thrumming and dancing;
     the Skittles on the dash
     don't seem all that nervous to me
     only they've started to taste a bit like

toothpaste
ribbon
coffee
snowflakes.

         our thoughts swirl like them,
         haunting melodies springing
         awake, stealing the sun Memories Like the shards of a broken mirror they surround her, the memories of both of her lives. One is warm and inviting, the other cold and forbidding. Enigma-37 shudders as she touches the closest shard, it shatters into a cloud of silver revealing the scene within.
Enigma, Germany, 1946, New Years Eve

She never wanted to be here, never wanted any of this, yet here she is. She looks at the soldier to her left: it's Danielle, she is saying the Lords prayer before they drop in Germany, the place where she was born and raised.

"It'll be over soon," 37 says placing a comforting hand on her friend's shoulder attempting to soothe her guilty conscie We'll get used to it, don't worry.At the station, as always, the sparks are flying off our faces -
bleached by winter as summer once tanned. It seems ages
ago since you slipped a handful of cherries into my eagerly-lipped mouth.
Those mysterious polaroid days, when both we still dared to doubt
everything that cannot be erased. I'll have to make memories when you're sleeping too far away
from my nightmares and from me. Yet the glimpse of you will walk with me all day
and I will still wear my dresses for you,
as always. A Painting Worth A Thousand WordsIf there are times when you think im down
I'd wish that you would ask
If there are times when you think I am not myself
I'd wish that you would ask
Cause the hardest part is getting me to answer back
With the truth

It takes all of my energy
To lift my head
It takes all of my energy
To even attempt a smile
Cause I always seem to ask you how you are
But you never ask me back

Let's paint all of the walls
Paint them in a thousand words I want to say to you
But you never seem to have a moment
To just sit down and listen to me and my day
When I always listen to yours

It takes all of my energy
To lift my head
It takes all of my The MeaningWe're all searching for a meaning,
To life, to love,
To sorrow, to death,

We think it must be a word,
a phrase,
some profound truth,
shining just out of our sight.

But what if,
life's meaning is but a butterfly's kiss?

It's the sight of that spring blossom
Welcoming the morning's light,
It's a friend's arm around you,
Amid grief's darkest night.

It's a waltz, that first kiss,
A teardrop's fall, the curtain call,
I see it in hands raised in worship,
And as tiny fingers greet the world,

Perhaps the meaning's not a word or phrase,
Neither a conundrum nor a matrix,
it's the sum of all our experiences,
The meaning is Life its

Many thanks to Hardrockangel, justlittlemusings and to everyone for reading this!