I have left fragments
of myself
in your hands.
Bits and pieces
bleeding through your fingertips
like fresh cuts.
I am waiting
for you to figure out
how to put back together
what you so willingly
broke.
I am not a replaceable prop
for you to use when you feel like it.
Feb 8, 2021
Feb 8, 2021 at 10:10 PM UTC
I am held together
by tape and pins inside,
make shift stitches
are the only things
keeping myself from
falling apart.
There are so many chips
In my skin
I do not know
If they are from mine
or everybody else’s
loathing.
My strings are so weak
there is no telling
when I will have to cut them,
and let my limbs
fall far beneath my feet.
You would think
I would be better
at keeping myself
from ruining everything else,
but I have spent too much time
tearing myself up
to know how to
hold anything worth saving
In my bloodied hands.
My lips have been
stretched so thin
from keeping all my secrets
locked inside
I drool blood and grief
through the sutures.
Please use me,
i have no idea
how to do this on my own,
and I am not my own master
anymore.
I don’t know how to exist
without you.
I have been left on the floor
for so long
I am a mess
of broken attempts
to fix something
that cannot be mended.
I am unsure
I will even work right,
but I need someone
to tug on my ropes
and make it seem
like I am more alive
than this.
Aug 31, 2020
Aug 31, 2020 at 2:40 AM UTC
I can still remember
the way it felt
to know the person
meant to protect you
chose not to.
I am afraid
I may never love you
the same way I used to
before I was old enough
to know what
lying really meant.
I still think of home
as a space
I was too scared
to breathe in.
sometimes
I think about
stepping out in front
of a car
and the only thing
that stops me
Is the questions
I know you would ask.
My closet
was the safest place
I felt I had left
to hide in.
It bothers me
you can’t hear
the venom
in my voice
I can’t hold back
from spitting up my throat.
I still wish
you taught me
how to love myself
Instead of
how to fear everyone else.
I still have nightmares
I am convinced I haven’t
woken up from yet.
I am a funeral
you still celebrate
every time I come home.
Some days
I hate you
for the way
you made me
love what hurt me.
There is a part of me
that still believes
I am unlovable.
Aug 20, 2020
Aug 20, 2020 at 7:51 PM UTC
You are entangled
In the vines of a
codependent ****
It will eventually **** the life
Out of you,
but only because
You allowed it too.
You didn’t need to
put yourself in it’s path
and offer yourself
like a sacrifice in waiting
- But you like the idea that someone else has the power to ruin you in the way you are too scared to do.
You didn’t need to
give your essence over
to something that will devour
anything that moves
- But you don’t believe your worth is more than being somebody else’s emotional feed bank.
You didn’t need to
willingly wait for death
while their vines held you down
and choked on your broken pieces
- But you don’t know how to survive in a world that is not dependant on you fixing it while leaving your damage to die.
You will be consumed
by the toxins
of a carnivorous friend,
and you will sit by and watch
while they burn the world down
around you
and still offer
your bones to be their home.
Jul 29, 2020
Jul 29, 2020 at 9:27 PM UTC
My feet
are burned and bloodied
with the dirt
from which i clawed
my way out of.
Every word
to tumble from my lips
might choke
on the teeth
lining my throat,
but i will still
spit them out.
My arms
may be scarred
with the cuts
of all the thorns
i had to dig through,
and my heart
might be back
in the grave you buried me in,
but I will still
stand in front of you
more alive than
you will ever be.
Jun 5, 2020
Jun 5, 2020 at 8:49 PM UTC
I don’t know what’s wrong with me.
There you are,
someone who could
could teach me
what it feels like
to love myself,
and yet
I hold you in my hands
and I ruin
the chance you
hold out to me
so willingly.
I feel so damaged
that the pieces of me
that still cling
sickeningly to my ribs
don’t feel like me anymore,
But tiny monsters
that do nothing
but hurt
everything I touch.
My throat burns
with the words
that I don’t say,
thoughts so loud
that sometimes I want
to scratch them violently
into my wrists
so you can see them
and I won’t drown
in them anymore.
But I won’t.
And I can’t.
And if you don’t
get away now,
you will be nothing
but a broken memory
beneath my feet
that feel like they were made
to walk over you.
May 31, 2020
May 31, 2020 at 11:04 PM UTC
I had so much faith
that your hands
wouldn't drop me,
the same way
everyone else's
did.
But as i fell
through your
fingertips
I realised
you were
all the same.
May 25, 2020
May 25, 2020 at 7:15 AM UTC
It’s the sound of the dial tone,
a conversation ended after a one-sided solution.
The voicemail being more familiar to you
than actual words.
It’s the empty feeling that follows
the footsteps walking away from you,
the echo of closing doors remaining
a constant in place of ringing doorbells.
It’s the sensation of tears down your face,
runny nose and sore throat.
Cringing under your covers so not to burden
the strangers down the hall.
It’s the heavy silence of your room,
your indentation in the bed permanent.
having all the blankets bunched up around you
as if they could make you warm again.
It’s the thoughts that roam your head
at every point in the day,
asking when did you let yourself become
an option
when you should have been
a priority.
Apr 20, 2020
Apr 20, 2020 at 4:57 AM UTC
The clothes I wear don’t feel like home even on good days
and most days they end up at the bottom of my bed
in a pile I avoid putting away,
There is a museum of damage inside my chest and half the time
I don’t know what parts of me are on display anymore,
My lonely looks a lot like boredom
when I find myself standing in the bathroom
at 5:00 in the morning staring at my hands,
I have a bad habit of letting my emotions choke me
so that the only words spilling from my mouth
are black and blue lipped lies,
My body is a hostel ghosts like to rent when there is
free space in the attic,
The tendency to self destruct means I am willing to lie down
on your rocks like Prometheus and have you pick at me like a vulture,
I would burn your house down until I am
the only house you have left to run home to,
My breath is the condensation in the shower you forgot to get rid of
that will turn to mould if left to settle,
I can hear the pity in his voice when he calls me pretty,
there is a grave waiting for me when you are finished filling a void,
I am too lazy to figure out how to heal myself,
I have never been enough for those who did not stay.
Apr 4, 2020
Apr 4, 2020 at 4:29 AM UTC
I say your name,
and it's like the room
becomes a graveyard.
Everyone has left
and a cold emptiness
sweeps it's way in
to settle amongst
your headstone.
They all
buried you
a long time ago,
while i still pick dead flowers
to throw on top
of your grave.
My hands still grasp
at the pain in my chest
while everyone walks around me
with dry faces
that pretend
they don't see your ghost
still sitting on my shoulders.
It's like I never attended the funeral
they all threw
to cast you out,
and now i'm stuck
mourning somebody
no one wants to talk about.
Mar 28, 2020
Mar 28, 2020 at 12:34 AM UTC