~How Is It Easier To Hide The Skeletons In My Closet Than The Scars On My Arms When Both Are Covered

~How is it easier to hide the skeletons in my closet than the scars on my arms when both are covered with only a few layers of cotton?~

-a poem of a new kind

~I wonder what his hand would feel like against mine. How would it look?

I wonder what his arms would feel like around me. How strong is he?

I wonder what his lips would feel like against mine. How would he taste?~

-a poem of a new kind

~Somedays, it feels like my heartbeat is so strong that I believe others can feel each beat rattling their skulls. I'm afraid they can see my heart fighting against my ribcage, each beat more painful than the last. To them, it looks like mild discomfort, but to me? To me, it feels like my heart could break free at any moment.~

-a poem of a new kind

~One more thing... just one more request before you leave me. Promise you'll never forget me. Pinky Promise?~

-a poem of a new kind

~When does trust overlap into apathy? Why do I get the heartbreaking realization that I haven't understood these two things as much as I thought I did? How can one trust blindly without caring and worrying?~

-a poem of a new kind

“I’m not fascinated by people who smile all the time. What I find interesting is the way people look when they are lost in thought, when their face becomes angry or serious, when they bite their lip, the way they glance, the way they look down when they walk, when they are alone and smoking a cigarette, when they smirk, the way they half smile, the way they try and hold back tears, the way when their face says they want to say something but can’t, the way they look at someone they want or love… I love the way people look when they do these things. It’s… beautiful.”

— Clemence Poésy