Shatter Me

“I always wonder about raindrops.

I wonder about how they're always falling down, tripping over their own feet, breaking their legs and forgetting their parachutes as they tumble right out of the sky toward an uncertain end. It's like someone is emptying their pockets over the earth and doesn't seem to care where the contents fall, doesn't seem to care that the raindrops burst when they hit the ground, that they shatter when they fall to the floor, that people curse the days the drops dare to

“I always wonder about raindrops.

I wonder about how they're always falling down, tripping over their own feet, breaking their legs and forgetting their parachutes as they tumble right out of the sky toward an uncertain end. It's like someone is emptying their pockets over the earth and doesn't seem to care where the contents fall, doesn't seem to care that the raindrops burst when they hit the ground, that they shatter when they fall to the floor, that people curse the days the drops dare to tap on their doors.

I am a raindrop.

My parents emptied their pockets of me and left me to evaporate on a concrete slab.”

Dark blue eyes dark brown hair sharp jawline strong lean frame.

His eyes are the perfect shade of cobalt, blue like a blossoming bruise, clear and deep and decided.

I've tried so hard to get those blue blue blue eyes out of my head but I know him I know him I know him.

...blue and bottomless...

I'd recognize your eyes anywhere in the world.

He still has the most unusually blue eyes I've ever seen.

...the deep dark blue of the eyes I've learned to swim in.

His natural tan offsets a pair of eyes a shade of blue in a midnight sky.

Raindrops are my only reminder that clouds have a heartbeat.


I wonder about how [raindrops are] always falling down, forgetting their parachutes as they tumble out of the sky toward an uncertain end. It's like someone is emptying their pockets over the earth and doesn't seem to care where the contents fall, doesn't seem to care that the raindrops burst when they hit the ground, that they shatter when they fall to the floor, that people curse the days the drops dare to tap on their doors. I am a raindrop.

Someone picked up the sun and pinned it to the sky again, but every day it hangs a little lower than the day before. It's like a negligent parent who only knows one half of who you are. It never sees how its absence changes people. How different we are in the dark.


I'm wearing dead cotton on my limbs and a blush of roses on my face.


I catch the rose petals as they fall from my cheeks, as they float around my body, as they cover me in something that feels like the absence of courage.


These words are vomit. This shaky pen is my esophagus. This sheet of paper is my porcelain bowl.


1 word, 2 lips, 3 4 5 fingers form 1 first.
1 corner, 2 parents, 3 4 5 reasons to hide.
1 child, 2 eyes, 3 4 17 years of fear.


I wish I could stuff my mouth full of raindrops and fill my pockets full of snow. I wish I could trace the veins in a falling leaf and feel the wind pinch my nose.


Every muscle every movement tightens, every vertebra in my spinal column is a block of ice.


My eyes are 2 professional pickpockets, stealing everything to store away in my mind.


My words wear no parachutes as they fall out of my mouth.


My dreams are bloody and bleeding and blood is bleeding all over my mind and I can't sleep anymore.


The prospect of Adam in pain is like a cold hand clutching my esophagus.


I can shoot a hundred numbers through the chest and watch them bleed decimal points in the palm of my hand. I can rip the numbers off a clock and watch the hour hand tick tick tick its final tock just before I fall asleep. I can suffocate seconds just by holding my breath. I've been murdering minutes for hours and no one seems to mind.


I could jump up to catch a breeze and live in its windblown ways forever.


His lips are spelling secrets and my ears are spilling ink, staining my skin with his stories.


My lungs are sawing my rib cage in half, but I force them to process oxygen anyway.


I take a few bites of oxygen.


My face has been slapped by a hundred hands.

"Maybe I don't want you to."
He makes a harsh sound. "I disgust you that much?"

“He’s so wrong he’s so wrong he’s more wrong than an upside-down rainbow”

“

“He’s so wrong he’s so wrong he’s more wrong than an upside-down rainbow”

“He smiles with teeth so white it looks like snow falling on the chocolate valleys of his face”