Write me a story
A beautiful escape.
Make sure it has a good ending
But not too happy or great.
Make sure the hero dies
But like in a good way.
Make sure everyone’s pleased
That it turned out so straight.
But make sure there are twists
And turns so abrupt
That water will inevitably
Spill from your cup.
If you did not move with the pages
Or churn with the words
You’re doing it wrong.
Read til it burns.
Write me a story
That bleeds the blood
I’ll never spill
Because I’m but a rug
Waiting for life
To pass over me.
But don’t worry,
I’ll surely call myself free.
Since that’s what this life is.
Encouraged to die
Right where your born
Because darkness is nigh.
And you won’t crawl to the light
Since you’ll have to leave your spot
Comfortable and warm
From your years of rot.
But darling
I dare you
To leave that place.
For the pages are waiting
On your beautiful escape.
And they want a good ending
So which path will you make?
Spill the blood.
Clamor awake.
Jan 10
Jan 10, 2026 at 12:03 AM UTC
To you.
You would like the woman I am now.
The woman I’ve become.
I have more bite than I used to
I watch others shy from my passion
The way you would’ve leaned in.
I speak more clearly than I did
More intentionally.
I retort in such a way
That I once admired you for.
Thinking “I could never be so smart.”
You wished me to be more opinionated
More spiteful
More biting.
Maybe if you would have waited to see
You would’ve seen
the woman you wanted.
I miss your cunning intelligence
That made me ponder
What I hadn’t before.
That refuted my points
In ways I had not imagined.
There are many things I miss.
But then I remember
What I would have had to give up
In exchange for that biting humor
That spiteful intelligence
That cunning smile.
I do wonder
If I became the woman I am
Because I finally let you go.
Because I was forced
To push back
In such a way I never could with you.
You would like the woman I am now.
The woman I’ve become.
It’s too bad you’ll never see
Because you were always
more important
Than me.
Jan 9
Jan 9, 2026 at 11:15 PM UTC
I need to remember that
I’m just not one of those people
who simply
“won’t catch feelings.”
I am a loving person.
I give love.
That’s what I do.
I love others,
While making the mistake of thinking
They will love me back.
Why won’t you love me back
Aug 16, 2020
Aug 16, 2020 at 1:54 AM UTC
She said,
I’ll give you a hint
If you swear you won’t tell.
She said,
I’ll give you a hint
If you promise I won’t go to hell.
She said,
Does anybody hear me
Or am I just talking to myself.
She said,
Why did you leave me
Why am I here by myself.
She said,
never did I trust you
Not like I did
all those years ago.
She said,
Who are you now
Cuz I don’t know.
Nov 4, 2019
Nov 4, 2019 at 9:50 PM UTC
No I am not sorry.
I will not give you an apology
Because I do not lie.
I will not tell you
I feel bad about what I did.
I do not.
You obviously don’t.
You are clearly not sorry.
Sorry means you won’t do it again,
But you did.
And you said sorry.
And again
But you said sorry.
And again
But you said sorry.
You’ve said sorry so many times
That I’ve lost the meaning of the word
When it leaves you’re mouth.
You are not sorry you did it.
You are sorry that I made you
feel bad about it.
You are sorry that I made you realize
You’re carelessness hurts.
You’re ignorance h u r t s.
But the difference between us
Is that you said you were sorry
When you didn’t mean it.
I would rather no apology
Than a blatant lie.
I will not say sorry,
Simply because
I most definitely
Am not.
Aug 24, 2019
Aug 24, 2019 at 1:17 AM UTC
I don’t regret it,
It just would’ve been more convenient
If I didn’t do it.
Jul 26, 2019
Jul 26, 2019 at 12:01 AM UTC
When the psychoanalyst
Pulls out the piece of paper
And asks:
What does this look like to you?
I’d like to answer by saying
A bunch of black blotches on a page.
But that’s not what I said.
That’s not what you’re supposed to say.
You’re supposed to look at it really hard
And make an image out of nothing.
I can’t remember what I said.
But I do remember,
The woman making me repeat it,
asking for a back story.
I didn’t give it enough thought for a
“back story”.
No, I do not know why
the man is sitting at a park bench alone
eating a sandwich.
Maybe his wife left him
and he can’t make his own food
Because he’s the type of guy
Who’s been married so long
He doesn’t know how to not be married
So he bought a sandwich
I’ve never been married so,
I don’t know.
Maybe he just likes sandwiches.
It’s not my fault the black blotches
On the piece of paper
Look like a man eating a sandwich.
Now that I think about it
I was probably just hungry.
Why are you asking me
What these black blotches on paper
Look like?
Why don’t you tell me?
How the **** should I know.
Jul 9, 2019
Jul 9, 2019 at 11:31 PM UTC
Accidentally in love.
Purposely broken.
Undeniably unknown.
Questionably sane.
Increasingly resilient.
Undone in every way.
Jul 5, 2019
Jul 5, 2019 at 10:40 PM UTC
Half of my body says I don’t deserve
Half of the things I live to endure.
Half of my body says please set me free.
Half of my body says just let me be.
Half of my body loves him so.
Half of my body knows he’ll never show.
Half of my body says love over lust.
Half of my body says time over trust.
Half of my body knows too much.
Half of my body lies as such.
Half of my body says no one should save you.
Half of my body never forgave you.
Jun 24, 2019
Jun 24, 2019 at 10:06 PM UTC
You demand all my love and respect.
But as soon as I want yours,
You have none to give.
Where did it go?
Because I gave you all mine.
Jun 23, 2019
Jun 23, 2019 at 4:52 PM UTC