1993 -    17 followers
I am a human with BPD, a poet, a cart wheeler, a cappuccino connoisseur, lover of people, cats, and inked skin. I take on life one day at a time. I want everyone to have somewhere they feel they belong. Infatuation is a slippery slope and I have never been someone with traction.
I am a human with BPD, a poet, a cart wheeler, a cappuccino connoisseur, lover of people, cats, and inked skin. I take on life one day at a time. I want everyone to have somewhere they feel they belong. Infatuation is a slippery slope and I have never been someone with traction.
HR Beresford
HR Beresford
Mar 12, 2013

I never dreamed of sitting in the meadows that blossom in your chest. I only allowed myself a small window to hope, to wish, to crave. I know now that it was big enough to climb through. We were meant to align, to feel the pull of each other, to recognize the thirst. We are lock and key. We are the lonesome trees, greeting lighting. We are the sound of jars taking their first breath after so long. We. It tastes so soft when I say it, falling out of my mouth like honey vanilla.

HR Beresford
HR Beresford
Mar 12, 2013

I thought about running my fingers through your hair a hundred times. I didn’t. I stayed exactly as I was. I was afraid of the electricity in my hands. I did not want to start a fire on accident. I did not want to mend the burns. I thought about resting my hand on your wrist. I didn’t. I did not want to wake you. I imagined lacing our fingers together as our body temperature dropped and our breathing slowed. I didn’t. I do not know how to sew very well. I was two heart beats away from lightly placing my leg over yours. I didn’t. I was afraid of wanting to wake up beside you too much.

HR Beresford
HR Beresford
Jan 29, 2013

My heart is a deck
with vein blue grip tape
and you are the wheels.
The trucks get looser
and looser
and before I know it
I am
swerving
across the white line,
dipping into love
like it’s a bike lane.
I cannot steer
with you
holding my hands.
The sun is a retired drum set
beating
on my shoulders,
your hands
land on my hips
with the sound of cymbals
murmuring.
Our melody is silent
banging,
the sweat
and the blood pressure,
the only remnants
of the music.

HR Beresford
HR Beresford
Jan 29, 2013

I had been flickering
for months

I became deaf
to my own white noise

I did not hear
the sizzling
of my own
dying candlelight

perplexed by
the burning
between my fingertips

I looked to see
miniscule carcinogens

I stopped feeling
the breeze
I could not calculate it
without equating it
to the swaying
of my flame

Without an internal inferno
it is cold in November

My hands are sore
from the friction
I have been causing
myself

with gratitude
I am burning again
my heart beating
with lovely combustion

HR Beresford
HR Beresford
Jan 25, 2013

“Do not peek under your armor,
Do not peek under your armor,
Do not peek under your armor.

You can feel the rushing of your rivers without them leaking through,
You can hear the thundering of the heart beats inside you above the murmuring of sickness.

Though your darkest parts may scream for a silver lining,
may beg incessantly to be let out,
do not let them breathe,
do not let them breathe,
do not let them breathe.

You are stronger than the snarls echoing in your ears.

Scream louder,
drown them out,
drown them out,
drown them out.”

I cannot always find my voice.

HR Beresford
HR Beresford
Nov 28, 2012      Nov 29, 2012

the soil in my soles
is wet
this time of year
the cracks
filled with summer sun
are mending

the seeds
of recovery
have been carefully
placed between
my veins

with every heart beat
I can feel the green
starting to make way
to the surface

it will be a long autumn
blooming with sobriety
nursing the chrysanthemums
adorning my lucidity

HR Beresford
HR Beresford
Nov 28, 2012

with lotus hands
I have surfaced
from the mud

I mistook the suffocation
for the ground loving me
it felt too good
to be true

it was thick with leaving
warm with sunlight
I was a junky
for the murky

tired of the cloudy
I am striving
to exist
in the space
next to godliness
diving into
clarity

a flowering proclamation
of a renaissance

 
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