I was born in the rain; eyes like the sky, like the storm. Violet and blue.
I was soft, but unquiet. A girl with pale skin and a heart beating too fast, too slow.
                         I was always clinging to a dying moon.

There’s a wreckage in my chest, but I’m still too strong to drown.
I’m a girl filled with brittle (but uncorroded) dreams, stubbornness & echoes of your voice.
I have planet-like bruises on me and eyes that collect oceans. I unfurl words like wings – a sense of melancholy wrapped in loneliness polished with moonlight.

September is dying, and my eyes are flickering. Is it going to be dawn soon? I wonder where you are.

{sometimes even the moon breaks / the world sinks at the bottom of a teardrop / & at 4am I still care / gravity vs poetry / it aches / holding inside secrets and wars / ashes where my roses should be / I wish you stayed / I wish my hands weren’t shaking / how is this going to end?}

Inhale, exhale. What’s left?
                         A dream of a ghost; rose petals, tears and the endless longing.

Maybe a sliver of hope.