

burn outthis is what she looks like when she is happy:burn out
bright green eyes lit up with laughter and a sweet lemonade smile
that would knock them off their feet tinkling laughter that bubbles up from her throat and invites everyone to join along tiny hands to match her tiny feet and a heart big enough for the whole world
this is what she looks like when she is sad:
delicate mouth turned down at the corners shining green eyes reflect hidden sorrow singing sweet lullaby songs about heavy-hearted things her smooth honey voice melting in any list


About a Boydo you remember the first time we dug our feet into the sand so deep that they were cold even though our backs were throbbing from the sun? you said, if they can make snow angels, let's make sand angels let's make something beautiful out of something so dull and lifeless but when you laid down and spread your limbs the sand rushed back to fill the space you'd just created and i could see the disappointment you kept locked away behind your eyes because you couldn't make something beautiful out of the dull sand or out of meAbout a Boy
do you remember the second time i ever met


how to greet a dead fishwe strap metal blades to our feet, thought let's skate on this frozen water, before us no one remembered to be suicidal. we cut patterns in the ice and they are not beautiful. they are not beautiful at all. like the scars on the tops of my feet they are all wrong and require stitches but i am lying. there is deep deep mud in this lake not wet because it's solid through. but we still call it a lake and we still cut patterns in its ice all wrong. we cut patterns in the ice like trying to swim closer to perfect breathing seaweed except we don't get very far since we're just pretending, actors at wanting to die.how to greet a dead fish


you don't call me by my namesaid i wished i were frank, you asked if i'd be ok with jim or sallyyou don't call me by my name
and you never got it, no, you never caught on
just watched as your lips parted, i saw your insides
and those beautiful teeth
told me not to get too beautiful, frowned when i laughed
wind screaming for the sounds neither of us could ever make and you never listened, no, you never heard me when i
said you were what hearts were made of, you beautiful little fucker
never thought you'd love me past my skin flinched between finch feathers when
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Each man kills the thing he loves. -Oscar Wilde
The hawk on fire hangs still. Dilly dilly, calls the loft hawk, come and be killed. Dilly dilly, come let us die.
it's those stupid things we say in the rain, the words that can't ever be washed away.
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don't trade your rock for a kite!
thank you!
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let's play a game called you pretend i am an actual poet
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don't trade your rock for a kite!
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SCORPION'S #1 FAN!!!
All you other ppl that like him will be killed by me and him.
www.ShiraiRyu.com
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don't trade your rock for a kite!
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don't trade your rock for a kite!
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