1. Wait for summer when our blood moves warmer and we can open our mouths without the bees getting out.

2. We called him autumn because he changed like the leaves.
He said it was tragic that I tried to stay in every season for as long as I could.
I said it was tragic that we could forget like this.
And I felt stupid because I loved him.
When I thought I had memorized all the colors in his palette.
It changed to winter.

3. Concept: You wake up and your skin is intact, no blood masquerading as a solution stains your sheets. Your room is not cold; you are not cold. You drive to school in pajamas with a mug of cocoa in the cup holder. You do not feel guilty. Repeat. You do not feel guilty.

4. The moon talks a lot regardless of how much it knows no one is really listening.
Tells me a lot of people call it beautiful.
But it feels alone, alone, alone.
I see it through my window.
An awkward scenario where
every time I pretend I’m asleep
To avoid talking to something that sounds an awful lot like me.

5. These veins. This heart. They’re liars.

6. It took three years for vegetation to start growing again in the blast zone of Mt Saint Helens.
Here I am, three years later, and the flowers won’t come back to my body. the damage, grossly underestimated. You, never surviving the wreckage, I promised that I could be capable of basic love, that I could put away my knives and give you the blueprints for my armor, so you could find the places where it didn’t fit right. But You won’t look at me, just keep saying that I am the volcano we all forgot about, beautiful on the surface, deadly underneath. You said you didn’t want to be waiting for an eruption you couldn’t predict.Listen, It took three years for vegetation to start growing again on mt saint helens and here I am, three years later, suffocating any organism that attempts to take root. I can’t blame you for wanting be so far from the blast zone.

7. He says this is how we cauterize wounds, with promises, and hot tears, and things we don’t mean. But it bleeds anyways and spells out all the things I couldn’t say. We mess up the recipe for love and as penance spend our time in a burning house where we watch the life that could have been ours fade in flames, let the ash settle in our lungs; it doesn’t matter, we weren’t breathing right before. Here is where I imagine myself unfolding into anything better, anything to turn us into phoenixes with second chances This is how we cauterize wounds, by pretending they aren’t there.
You could have taken me to the lavender fields. We could have fallen in love.

8. A bee is only as good as its honey; I'm only as good as my poison.

9. Sometimes a home isn’t a roof and four walls. Sometimes it’s skin and bones.

10. Everyone wants to be the butterfly, but someone has to be the moth

11. You hope this earth will swallow you up, make you something useful before they all figure out the big ruse. Pull back the curtain, and behind all that smoke and mirrors is just a girl afraid of seeing everyone leave. Is afraid of the earth spitting her back up.

12. That's what happens when you build a church out of skin and bones. You discover that your God isn't real.

13. You start imagining the wound before it has even formed, before the weapon has seared right through your heart. You think feeling pain before it has to be felt will save you from something.
Save you from what?

14. This is the first day of your life. You open eyes to a new world. The sun is the sun for the first time; you are fascinated by the moon coming home, by the stars shining differently when the streetlights are gone. Your ratio of good days to bad is 1:0. You are finally winning.