use me.

From beneath the bell jar a dahlia waits for something -anything- to happen,

forget romeo & juliet, let's be bonnie & clyde.

A description of how I'd imagine real passion to be. Perhaps unusual, maybe a bit surreal. I'd be interested in opinions.

Take a peek into the life of Little Miss Perfection.-P.S. Never fall down a rabbit hole.

for once, i'm listening.

Our hair was braided down our backs like flower petals.

an epiphany whilst in the shower! "the pain has gone, or so you think / your legs are smooth at last / so you go on to live another day/ through fragile but opaque glass"

Well, this was previously my untitled poem, but I thought of a title, so there you go. It's basically a rhyming rant about what was going on inside my head the majority of my junior year of high school.

If a heart is breaking, when does it become broken? Is there a point where things cant get worse?