flynnfromblakely

  i want nothing more than to tear out my heart and hand it to you. because i know that you could shelter it better than i ever could - cocooned in gauze and cooling words hidden from the decay and the birds buried deep allowed to sleep at least for a little while. sometimes hurts to even smile, and i plug the dam as best i can try i can’t even give you a reason for me to cry. as my face burns and my clear sight turns to watercolors birthed of pain, feels like nothing left of me remains. my stomach’s queasy but no one sees me or hears my breakdown because i won’t be a burden now.

  I remember - Fair was the plastic weather, Sun barely over manicured hills As I stood Deer in road Porcelain doll Still   Frozen as any photograph Broken like a scratch-skipping phonograph Mind blank and void and echoing white Red-blue lights in my aching eyes   I tasted smoke Began to choke Sound too far away To reach try as I may   The balance point of this purgatory bubble Was seeing his poor hand jutting out from the rubble

  fire holds ability in its hypnotic gaze. capacity to heal - also, capacity to raze. its glow is pure and wholesome, source of a song to sing - but burning pain results from an excess of a good thing.   the amount differs from life to death - warm your soul or steal your breath.   a tool, whether be it meek or be it bold (good or evil? depends on the hands that power hold.)