and besides, there's so much beauty in a storm.

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 lover(s).
the caged bird sings of freedom.


your choruses coat new york city night skies in longing and royal blue

the sadness of your low notes keep a slow thunder in the street

i stayed there long enough to hear a verse or two

in the cold wind and the back bend of where the sidewalks meet

billie,

did your smile resemble the vinyls your voice was melted into?

lines perfectly shaped for silver screens

perfectly shaped for mountain ranges

closing in on 2 am’s guilt and mystery

did the sound of cracks between the phrases of your words

show up on your skin the morning following?

after the eyes peering into you turned their heads for just enough time

for you to breathe again

after the lights blinded you just enough

for remains hovering in your sight to guide you back home

billie,

do your refrains follow you into your bed?

do you allow the haunting to cradle you to sleep

or do you shudder at the same demons you let cling on to your shadows

and the last note hit in every song

because i know there was something wrong

someone who is expected to be porcelain

is always hollow inside

is that why

you stuck diamond coated needles into your veins

wanting to be higher than the skyline bounds you to be?

did addiction break you down until you needed puppeteer strings

to pull you up again before the curtains opened

were the lights not bright enough

to mask your brown with ivory

so maybe your dreams 

could sing too?

or was your downfall and the sadness in your tone

only there because one too many times when the lights faded out

you were simply

left

alone

apologies used to drip out of my mouth

like a leaking faucet waiting to be handled by second thoughts.

the words that scurried out of my mouth

held umbrellas

tight like their grip was designed too

little girl had no place outside of her four walls

and endlessly untouchable ceilings and floorboards.

so little girl

said sorry for remembering

sorry for smiling to hard

sorry for forgetting

for leaving the girl they wanted to see behind a locked door

feet dangling, reaching to a foundation

masked by haze

little girl

knew nothing of what it meant to behave

although she knew all of the words to a song adults sang

she still spoke apology

as clearly as her own name

babybehemoth:

Anxiety attacks are the worst because sometimes you have no idea why you’re crying or angry and you just think of everything wrong in your life and you can’t control it all you can do is breath in and out and cry it out

my entire life two years ago.

(via shewasbeautyful)

  Ray Bradbury Fahrenheit 451   (via unlively)

(Source: larmoyante, via akidnamedmarley)