They’ll probably never understand what I write.

I read their comments, telling me how well I’ve written, but they never understand and probably never will.

They won’t understand that these galaxies that I dream about are the ashes of my happiness garnished with glitter.

They won’t understand that this pixie that I talk about are the fragments of my broken wings.

They won’t understand that this desire that I feel is a longing for that one drop of peace.

They won’t understand that this lust that I write about is my addiction for his intoxicating love.

They won’t understand what I write.

Don’t take my words for beauty love, look closer, poison lies beneath.