To The Girl Who Loves Everyone But Herself

She walked with
an air of measured gaiety and
carefully veiled frailty, her
skin charred by the naked flames
of her own desires, tells everyone
she’s crazy like her brand of
crazy was a circus lion to
be caged and showed off, but
never realized to his full power.
She was eccentric in the way
that she stretched her palms
out, asking for more- not
love or solicitude, even though
that would have been a fine
thing to ask for-
but for pain and incompleteness,
for kisses and breathlessness, for
tears and helplessness,
she was selfless
in the way she served her
heart for the world to ravage
in it’s vicious hunger and for
reality to stain with cigarette ashes,
vodka breaths and drops of salt water
reacting to gravity.

Her existence is starving.
And yet, she has
too many to
feed. To many to
foster. Too many
too much to be loved
to be able to love



One comment

  1. Simar · April 21, 2016

    Reblogged this on The Rebellious Chromosome and commented:
    This beautiful thing is written by my best friend. 🙂


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