She loved me
because I walked
a tightrope.
Always quaking
on tipping tiptoes,
ignoring the crowd below
until she climbed up.
I said get me down
from here.
Silver scissors sparkled.
Her face was the last
thing I saw as I
plummeted
Down.
She loved me
because I walked
a tightrope.
Always quaking
on tipping tiptoes,
ignoring the crowd below
until she climbed up.
I said get me down
from here.
Silver scissors sparkled.
Her face was the last
thing I saw as I
plummeted
Down.
Growing up in the gay haven of San Francisco, I’ve always said that I’d rather live in another country than another American city. Since we’re banned from the world for the foreseeable future, I decided to put the theory to the test.
Fluidity gives us the space to resist being put into a box, as one label may not be absolutely perfect for everybody.
A lighting strike did come. When she left.
Trigger Warning: Self Harm