What is a writer?
A balloon in my chest blew and popped
I did not try and stop the rupture because it came from your touch I trusted your palms around my neck and suffocated
Circumstances so fitting no guidance, we ballet in freedom and forget adolescence
Pressure from the inside lies against my breast you blew the ballon hoping to hide your demons in me
The balloon of ruin popped, they spread like the opposite sides of the bed we lay on
Still your Ugly belonged to me
You hid the thunder....
The balloon grew, filled with oxygen..
Guide that inspired this poem: