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Makayla Thee Jul 2015
my love is a double-edged sword screaming “**** me harder” until your great great great grandmother’s ears bleed. I’m sitting in the shade of a tree outside your college campus and even though the weather is nice I can’t stop thinking about dying. I watch as a little quail barely ducks out of the way of some ******* driving a little white Honda civic and at first I feel irrationally ******* that they were driving so fast in a ******* parking lot but that little white civic makes me think of my mother before the drugs rotted what was left of her brain. and I start laughing because it is just so ******* funny to me the way birds look when they run and the way someone looks when they’re high for the first time. I don’t think birds were made to run though, and I don’t think my mother was made to fly. there’s something about watching the person who brought you into this world take themselves out of it. I can’t tell you what it is but there’s something, it’s something with claws and razor-sharp teeth and nothing but jagged edges, it’s something that tears you apart from the inside out. an addict is always an addict, it doesn’t matter if they’ve been sober for ten years or ten days and I know that it is only a matter of time before she leaves again and I’m trying so hard not to spend this time hating her but it’s so hard to love someone who does nothing but lie. I’ve never known my mother the way I know hurt; I know more about broken hearts than I do my mother’s hobbies but it’s made me who I am, I guess. I don’t know how to cook the man I love breakfast but I do know where to cut him open, I know where the weakest points on a person are, I know how to hide mine. I know more about holding knives than I will ever know about holding a lovers hand and if you asked me what love is five years ago I would tell you a never ending fist fight, but now that I’m older I know that sometimes a hand on your cheek doesn’t have to be soft for it to feel like a kiss and that’s not always bad. you have to be careful when ******* me, there is something evil inside of me just waiting for someone to light the fuse. if you find your way too deep inside of this broken body you’ll be able to see where it hurts the most, my darkness will surround you like the dead sea. I will teach you a whole new meaning to the word “envelope”, I will draw you closer and closer until you don’t have to think twice about letting me eat you alive. you will never hit me or **** me hard enough, but your soft caress is what scares me the most. I want to be loved in the same way my mother loved heroine. I want you to need me, I want to ruin your life. I want to put my blood in all of the places you are hurt, I want to stitch up your every wound with my baby hairs. I want you to never get tired of the way I taste. I want you to crave my flesh from the grave. I’m going to practice necromancy and get so good that when I die, I’ll be able to put my skeleton back together long enough to come find you. and when I do, I will lay down softly beside you and finally put these bones to rest. in hundreds of years when archaeologists or aliens dig up our grave, they won’t be able to tell my femur from your tibia or my mandible from your vomer. I wish we would be able to see the looks on their faces when they try to figure out what the **** we are, I know you’d make the best jokes. I can only imagine all of the crazy things they would come up with. I can see our skeleton being the scientific mystery of the century, and I would wish I would be able to knock one of those future scientists on the head with my funny bone and say “hey *******, we were once two people in the living world but I loved him so much that our bones fused together into one, it’s really not that hard” I’d take a deep breath (even though I don’t have lungs) and continue, “the after life probably isn’t real and you guys probably figured that out ages ago but at least me and him are spending eternity together in some way, even if we have no consciousness to comprehend it. do you guys have soul mates here in the 29th century? have you guys cracked the code on love? do you know why that happens? can you explain why sometimes we fall in love with people who don’t love us back? can you explain to me why my mother fell so deeply in love with drugs?” and then you would probably have to come and drag me back to our crypt so that I didn’t ramble myself into a second (or third?) death. I don’t know if soul mates are real and I’m only one tiny speck of a girl, but if I could I would put my hand in your throat, wiggle my whole arm down into your esophagus and through your ribcage until I found your soul, and then I would pull it out so that I could softly kiss it and then put it back, or maybe I’d run away with it and never come back and you would search the earth for me endlessly, wandering around in circles, not knowing what you’re looking for but not being able to stop. every time you smile at me I have to look away so I don’t throw my heart up into your lap. I don’t know much about love but I do know that I’d gouge my eyeballs out if I could never see yours again, and I still don’t know that much about soul mates but I’m pretty sure that you’re mine and if there’s really a God I hope he’s not too big of a **** and made me yours, too.
Makayla Thee Jun 2015
Trigger warning: **** scene, trigger warning: domestic violence, trigger warning: strong language, trigger warning: mature themes, trigger warning: grilled cheese sandwiches, trigger warning: big gray trucks, trigger warning: turning left at intersections, trigger warning: bad day, trigger warning: good day, trigger warning: barbecues, trigger warning: ****** movies from the 80’s, trigger warning: the hallways of my high school, trigger warning: my bedroom, trigger warning: my sheets, trigger warning: my hands. They teach you what to do 24 hours after being ***** but not 24 months after when you are still bleeding. They tell you about possible ‘triggers’ but they don’t tell you what to do when it’s your mother’s laugh or your father’s stubble or the way a stranger says your name. There is no pamphlet for this, no 12-step program, no hotline that I can call. I was cut open to the very core and I don’t know if it’s just that nobody sees it anymore or if they’re just used to the mess by now. They took down the caution tape way before I was ready and now I don’t know how to handle any of this. I am too small, my wings were broken and everybody expects me to be able to fly again but I’m starting to believe that he was right when he said I didn’t deserve to fly. My mother’s extra-strength Bounty paper towels and extra-strength love are not enough to stop my guts from spilling out all over the kitchen floor. I’m walking around with a bullet lodged half-way into my skull, my small intestines stretch all the way to my childhood home, I’m dropping pieces of my liver and my kidney and my lungs like a trail of crumbs for the vultures to follow. Every night I dream of my eyes being pecked out by crows and every morning I wake up disappointed that I can still see the mess that he made of me. My best friend is the skeleton in the closet of our love, we take nightly trips down memory lane with our arms linked and our bellies full of laughter (and hatred). I’m not sure how to come back from this. I’ve run out of vices and I don’t know how much longer I can keep up this game of hide and seek. Death is getting impatient; he’s been standing at my door for weeks and I am tired, so tired, and he looks tired, and I think it’s time I invited Him in. You can’t hold grudges forever and my grandma always told me that everyone deserves compassion, even Death.
Makayla Thee Jun 2015
I live in the shadow of a girl who never existed. I exist in the wake of a love lost. When the fire came and took everything, I was the only thing that remained. God was there to pry the dagger from my trembling hands. He looked me in the eye and said "it's time to let go now, if you don't you'll never learn how." So I thanked him for this second chance he had given me and I left, forgetting what I thought I didn't believe in. I thought the worst of it was over, but no time spent in Hell could've prepared me for Earth. But then I found him, and I found solace in the corners of his mind. I tried to help but there were so many bombs and only one of me and I am so small. I fell from Heaven's Grace with ease but I was not prepared to fall in love. I was scared, for a King could never love a peasant. If I had to choose, I would fall from Heaven a million times over before I would willingly choose to fall in love. Because I know what to expect when I hit the ground, I know how to brace my small body against the dirt. But I do not know how to protect myself against a broken heart. The first time he took me out of his head and put me in the light I was petrified; I had spent so much time knowing his every thought that this foreign uncertainty made me feel sick. But there was beauty in it too, a small spark of heat growing somewhere inside of me and that was the most terrifying part of it all. That night I begged God to let me back into Heaven, but he told me this was my home now. So I learned the ways of life in this small town, I taught myself to be polite and to laugh at all of the right times. I made friends and eventually lost friends, I got in and out of relationships so fast it left me reeling. But every night, my Brothers and Sisters would come to me and tell me that I had to go and find him before it was too late. So I left, and I wandered until I found Him, and I told him I loved him even though I wasn't sure what that word was supposed to mean. I gave him all the parts of me I thought were lost forever, I let him see me naked, I let him see my Grace and where my wings had been before I Fell. He kissed the scars on my knuckles and told me I was beautiful, and as the old human saying goes "the rest was history." This is my home now, we have a beautiful Nephilim child and a tiny house in the woods. I feel human in my heart, because he has planted the seeds of love in me. I am writing this as a letter to myself, so that I can read it whenever I need, so to never forget where I came from and how I got here. I don't miss Heaven anymore, I have found true Nirvana in the way our daughters' eyes light up when he comes home from work. I used to be mad at my father for sending me down here but now I wish there was a way to let him now how grateful I am, though I have a feeling he already knows. We are expecting another little girl in May. We're going to name her Amriel - or Amy, for short. I know I said that I would never willingly fall in love but if falling in love means a perfect husband and a daughter who dreams about Angels and draws clouds on her walls, then I would choose to fall in love over and over again.
Makayla Thee Jun 2015
One of us has to apologize eventually, but God knows it'll never be you so here goes, I guess. Besides, I was always the bigger person. I am sorry for trying to force you into my apple-pie mold when you always wanted pumpkin. I'm sorry for all of the lies I told, I'm sorry for keeping you a secret. I'm sorry that I let you take me for granted. I'm sorry that it's taken you this long to realize what I mean to you. I'm sorry that it's too late. I'm sorry for always offering you my hand when you wanted my ribs and part of my esophagus. I'm sorry that not even everything was enough for you. I'm sorry that for the third birthday in a row you've gotten drunk and cried, usually about me. I'm sorry that I loved you. I'm sorry that I don't love you anymore. I'm sorry that sometimes I still miss your ghost laughing in the passenger seat of my car, high as the clouds singing along to a Frank Ocean song. I don't want to hate myself anymore. I need you to let me go so that I can move on. I'm glad you're working through some things but please, for the love of God, leave me out of it. Throw as many drinks at my car as you want, just please don't contact me. My heart strings cannot take anymore tugging. It's been too long, I need my life back. I'm just sorry, for everything, whether it was my fault or not and I need you to know that.
Makayla Thee Jun 2015
on your 15th birthday you took my virginity. on your 16th birthday you threatened to beat me to death but i kissed you anyway because i wanted you to be happy. it's your 17th birthday, i hope its good i guess. my family used to do this thing at birthday parties where after singing the traditional happy birthday song to whoever deserved it respectively, we would sing the merry unbirthday song from alice in wonderland to everybody, it was fun and it was weird but its what makes my family my family. you ******* hated it. you thought it was stupid, and it made me sad but when we would go to parties together id decline when they'd call me up for my turn to blow out the candles, just to impress you. the first birthday party i went to after you left me i asked them to sing the unbirthday song to me twice. i guess i just wanted to say that i've fallen in love with a boy that lets my family scream the unbirthday song at him and my sister rub frosting on his face and he is sincere when he tells me he loves it. i'm doing great, and i don't know i just hope this birthday is better for you than ones in the past have been. don't threaten to **** anyone please, and don't get so drunk that you start crying to journey and calling all of your ex girlfriends.
Makayla Thee Jun 2015
i always say i wouldn’t care if you died but honestly i’ve never really thought about it. would somebody call me to tell me? would it be your mother? who would apologize first? would i cry? would i feel relieved? would i blame myself? would i still be as angry as i am or would i have to figure out a way to let it go and move on? would i be invited to your funeral? would i go? it would probably be the nice thing to do considering who i am but i don’t want to be that girl anymore. if i only heard about it in passing or through gossip in the hallways, would i pretend that i didn’t care? like i didn’t even know you? would i feel sad? what would i even be mourning? the boy i knew, the boy i loved died a long time ago. would this be the closure my therapist always talks about? how would you go? i bet it would be doing something stupid. or maybe you actually followed through and really did ******* shoot yourself. who would find you? what if it was your little brother? if he saw me in the streets, would he hug me? would we cry together? or would i just feel awkward? so i guess i should stop saying that i hope you die because i don’t know if i do i just wish that you never existed, at least in my head.
Makayla Thee Apr 2015
When I met you I was new, raw. Unkissed, unloved, unfucked. I was equal parts young as I was stupid. The day you left I ran around my house and counted every hole in the wall; did you know that not a single one looked like you? My mom is convinced you are a psychopath and your father thinks I was just a crazy ***** but I think you just weren’t strong enough to handle the hurricane that I am. Remember when I swam too close to the boats and you saw your life flash before your eyes?  You taught me how to clean a gun, and I wonder if you knew I thought about what it would be like to shoot you. You weren’t the first person to over-sexualize this body but you were the first person this plump, over-sexualized body loved. My therapist tells me that trying to remember the good times will help remove this lump from my throat but I’m not so sure that’s a good idea. I don’t want to remember the time we danced on the roof as the sun was setting and I laughed so hard about what a cliché that was that I almost fell, I don’t want to remember the time we laid side by side in your room with the lights off and listened to music, I don’t want to remember the night I broke, when you pressed your forehead against mine and swore we would be okay. I don’t want to remember how it felt to love you. I loved you so fully I don’t think I will ever be able to love like that again. I killed myself for you. I guess I’m bitter, I guess I’m broken. I guess I’ll never be the same, but I’m still really glad we broke up. Because for every ounce of love I had for you there was a gallon of fear, and love isn’t supposed to hurt. Love isn’t supposed to be black and blue, and that is the only “love” you know. So yeah, I’m glad you left. I’m glad you ****** her. I’m glad I kissed him. I’m glad we got away from each other before we went too far, I’m glad we got out before it killed us both.
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