• Hannah Flowers

you are the insatiable burning in my ribcage the sharp breath in and the shaky exhale you are the itch in the middle of my shoulders i can not reach far back enough to scratch you are the pollen that falls from the trees incredibly beautiful, then again suffocating you are the late night, dreary-eyed sadness the weary, unrequited lust for relief you are the book i left unfinished just as hard to write as you are to read you are two thousand miles and a cab and a flight of stairs and i am far too fatigued and i know exactly what you are though you know nothing of me

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where is my heart?

you said one day we would marry and as a grown child, i believed you slipped thorns into my mouth i tried to thank you for the roses but blood came pouring out where are you now? where is my heart? i'

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it’s a weird place to be, stuck right in between i’m still in love with you, and i deserve more than you gave me when both are, at once, true i liked you much more before i loved you i liked you bette

the wool

you made me feel like you loved me even when you don’t. it was just enough for me, ignoring reality for a dream. though the wool was thin, it sat snug against my eyes, nonetheless. i could sculpt it i