when lips taste like ashes.

tears.
they taste like hot ink
and wet paper. when she turned
I met heartache with a closed fist.
and said to myself that
today- I wish
I wasn't invincible.
because my words bear extra weight
and I'm tired.
of forgetting what broken
feels like.




so I threw
indecision to the stars.
tasting tattered love
reminded me of tears on notebook paper.
and my pen treats poetry
as if it's dead.
then- I can trade secrets
with postcards. love in letters
and beat the sky
to displace the silence
in my chest.



and I never thought
I'd long
for the way
a heart can shatter.

but tonight.
I miss feeling alive.







-pieces inspired by a talk with Diviana