If you saw me on the streets,
you'd wonder whether i am a happy
girl

and I am, for the most part

though i still only have myself
standing,
half in ruins
that look like it could fall apart
any
second.

sometimes i think, the way
I romanticize sadness
so much, suggests
that i don't want to get
better

as if i have made
a home inside the wound.
but that is not the case,

i want nothing more than to be
under my own sunshine

but everything is too loud
that sometimes i make
myself feel small
so that i can fall
 

through

cracks

of

my

suffering.

sweet darkness has
never gone away
just by pretending it didn't
exist

because love strangles you in your sleep

we only get to keep the memories
so the wound won't heal.

as she once said:

"grief is another unwanted gift from love."