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Mallory May 2018
It's the way I drink my coffee now.
Not watered down, with cream and sugar,
but cut back,  
and strong.
I don't think it's wrong
to deny myself of this sweetness,
It only weighs me down anyway.
I'm used to it like this
now, anyway.

It's the way drinking translates
a moment to a dream state.
Every interaction flows
then fades,
like grade
school memories.
Existing outside the realm
of reality.

It pulls away, like it doesn't belong to me.
Like it needs room to breathe.
It sleeps,
and sleep talks,
and sleep walks,
then it wakes me up
and doesn't rest for days.

It sits, and waits,
until it's earned its place again.
It learns patience,
from a lot of practice, stretching itself thin.

It is stubborn,
and broken,
but it knows it.
And persists anyway.
This is not resilience
It is the weeds in my garden,
but it is beautiful anyway.
It only knows exisiting like this now, anyway.
Mallory Sep 2017
I want to cultivate my being so bad,
Exponentially expand.
I want to maintain this cultivation,
And refrain from all the circumstances that make me sad.
I want to stand taller than anyone else thinks I can.
My resilience is infinite,
A uniqueness,
Like the swirls in your fingerprints and all the grains of sand.
My sadness is a part of me,
I don't owe an explanation,
When I need to be.
And when they don't understand,
I will know no one can, like I can.
No one will embrace my heart,
With tender hands, Like I can.
I am my own, standing loud,
barely breathing a word.
I am my own, and any defeat I face
is not my death; but my birth.
Mallory Aug 2017
My patience has been stretched inordinately thin,
My back bone has started to spear through my skin
and I will not snap it back in place
to make
you more comfortable.
I see through you
and your slimy, translucent, fins.
I promise I notice
every bit of effort you do not put in.
It sinks my heart into my stomach,
And every truth Ive been swallowing will be regurgitated and spit out before I am sick again.
My back feels like it's going to break from bending over all the cracks in your concrete,
While you step on mine,
Thinking you are somehow above me this way, but dear,
we all ***** the same.
Just in different places, and at different paces.
And I have been running down only one ways
But these roads don't lead me any closer to you, they drive you away, and if you think i can run forever,
While you stay the same,
You are grievously  
I can only give so much.
And at the end of the day,
I will love the people who reciprocate that love back, and meet me halfway.
I will love you always,
but for a love that hurts more than it heals, I can not wait, and I will not stay.
Mallory Jun 2017
You fornicate,
Like you're making love,
I know you don't have feelings for me
So **** me harder,
like you mean it, instead.
Like you understand the difference between *******, and intimacy.
Don't be soft towards me,
I know it doesn't mean anything.
I'm begging you to make me beg,
you can't even **** me off the bed.
Or **** me on the bed.
Grow up and make me sweat.
Do anything but pretend that this is more than just an animal thing.
A basic human instinct.
don't lie to me,
I'm already undressed under your sheets, I can feel you lying through your teeth,
Don't make it hard for me when I have to leave.
Don't suggest that you have feelings, Show me your dominance, and **** me properly.
Mallory Jun 2017
Dirt under my nails
From trying to bail
out on reality
The night before.
Shakes, spins, sweats,
and I can't wrap my head
around the kind of self sabotage this is. If it's not helping me, it's hurting me.
If you're ignoring me,
don't think I won't leave
because I will.
My footsteps are heavy
and slow;
I know.
but I have come a long way
plenty of suns before.
there is no way to go
that is too far.
no companion
that tries too hard
And nothing that grounds me more,
Than love.
Mallory Jun 2017
Drunk girl cries a lot because sober girl can't. Sober girl knows how to play her cards and twist her tongue so drunk girl seems more fun. So drunk girl seems under control.  So drunk girl doesn't get written off as lush. Doesn't get written off as addict. Doesn't get put into a frame of condescending looks lined with disdain, but not enough empathy to remember that drunk girl is still a girl. Still has feelings. Still knows that her answers aren't at the bottom of any bottle; She stopped asking questions a long time ago. Sober girl thinks maybe drunk girl can handle her liquor this time, because her tolerance is higher than all her friends. She's always higher than all her friends. But drunk girl hasn't been around in a while. Drunk girl can still drink you under the table. Drinking habits die hard. Drunk girl goes hard. Pushes her limits. Drinks herself sick. Drinks herself full. Sober girl tries to fill herself but turns inside out and empty. Sober girl knows people patronize drunk girl. They pity drunk girl. They taste sour in their mouth when they spit drunk girl. Their eyes burn memories into their brains, drunk girl forgets the night but drunk girl remembers the way people put themselves up on a pedestal so high they can't look into her eyes anymore to feel her heart beating. Despite the nails sticking into it. Because they aren't drunk girl. But they're still "blank" girl. They're still "whatever" girl. They're still "insert adjective here" girl. But drunk girl still needs love. The way anyone else does. Drunk girl is still girl who paints. Girl who sings. Girl who writes. Girl who thinks outside the box that everyone puts her in. Still doesn't judge anyone else for their release, or their "sins". Sober girl likes to stay in focus but sober girl doesn't feel love the way that drunk girl can. Doesn't feel loved the way drunk girl can pretend. People like to talk about how drunk, drunk girl's been, but still like going out drinking with drunk girl. They're careful of how much time they spend with sober drunk girl. Do not forget that drunk isn't all drunk girl is. Peel back the label you've plastered all over drunk girl, because reducing her down to drunk girl says less about her, than it does about you.
I wrote this from a bit of an ironic perspective, not sure how to feel about it yet
Mallory Jun 2017
I bet you're wondering if I miss you or if I'm only just lonely.
I bet you it's neither one nor the other, It's both, honestly.

How do you describe an emptiness
That swallows you whole?
What does it feel like to be full?
What is the word for lack of emotional intimacy? Undeveloped feelings of affection and illiteracy
in the language of love?

How do you release in healthy ways?
How do you close your eyes,
At the end of the day
Without self eroding highs
And shaking hands that feel like standing still in an earthquake?

How do you believe in something
enough that you become it?

I bet you think I'm only just lonely or that I miss you a lot
I'd bet the opposite of both, but maybe I'm better off not.
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