It’s pushpins under my skin
Suffocating the veins I’ve built so well
While you convince.choke.me.
Pushing bright pigments into open wounds.



Choke.Choke.



Covering the silence written on the walls
& Erasing pencil outlines with bruised skin
Just to cover up the guilt while I pick apart the stardust
The moon shattering in half as I cover my eyes to the sky.



Dancing on milky concrete as it slides me so beautifully across ice
And the grass stands still by the maple trees.
Frozen for winter.
Choking on suffocating air.



Breaking every left aligned paragraph while I read your every sentence.
You’re grabbing my neck as I silence your next move.
Pushing pushpins under my skin.


Push.
Choke.

Erase.

Silence.



And you say beauty is being broken.
Then how come you feel so alive?
Standing still while you force a life out of me.
For your own satisfaction.



Merely standing on a bridge wanting to feel air between my hair
Floating through the sky.

Just so.
Just so.


Erasing me could be so much easier that belittling.
And I’m breaking.
Broken.



And your standing, watching, as I’m grabbing.
Reaching.
Choking.



And how could I become so dead from so much guilt.
So much silence.
Danced me along the bridge steps.
Just so I could get a taste of anything different.
& Feel death at my toes.



But it’s easier to erase me.
By letting every line of symmetry dissolve into stardust
While you collect every one just to light your way.
Always used for protection. When all I needed was a voice.






Silence never being able to carry me too far.






As you choke me with winter.
Pushing pushpins in my skin.









Push.
Choke.


















Erase.




















Silence.

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