Thursday, March 19, 2015

Blackhole Heart

She was seventeen, and she had a blackhole for a heart. 

Her hands looked more like road maps than hands which is strange, because she could never figure out where she was going.
Her words were less like words and more like cookie cutters that cut through even the thickest of dough.
Her face looked as blank as a canvas and the only thing separating her from a work of art was time.

She was seventeen, and she had a blackhole for a heart. 

Her veins were empty and she didn't understand where all her light was going.
Her breathing was shallow and her brow was cold.
Her heart was malnourished and every deposit she made seemed to disappear with the sunset

But she was still breathing. So there's that.

She wanted to be remembered.
Not as the blackhole,
Not as the writer,
Not as the nerd,
Not as the outcast,

But as herself.

Was this too much to ask?

3 comments:

  1. Man this is so strong.
    You wouldn't know this, but I know exactly how you feel.

    ReplyDelete
  2. This is like drinking the truth.

    ReplyDelete
  3. "She wanted to be remembered.
    Not as the blackhole,
    Not as the writer,
    Not as the nerd,
    Not as the outcast,

    But as herself.

    Was this too much to ask?"


    YESSSS! SO GOOD AND GREAT AND WOW.

    but really.

    ReplyDelete

Thanks for commenting! *Awkward high five*