I don't know what's
more difficult-
trying to
quit smoking
or
learning to love
myself.
Feb 14, 2020
Feb 14, 2020 at 9:34 AM UTC
God
strained
to hear her
but gave up
when he realized
the whispered prayers
were mine.
Apr 16, 2018
Apr 16, 2018 at 12:02 AM UTC
My eyes are glued to the door,
waiting and praying
for you to show up,
hollering
"April Fools!"
And yet the doorway stays as
empty
as I have felt for months now.
Apr 1, 2018
Apr 1, 2018 at 9:30 AM UTC
His unfocused gaze
at the commercial on television
hardened yet again.
I watch his grip
tighten on the remote,
his knuckles turning
white.
"When will things go back
to the way they were?" he growls.
He wasn't talking about
the commercials.
I turn away
and
blankly stare at
the television too,
wondering the
same
****
thing.
Mar 31, 2018
Mar 31, 2018 at 9:33 PM UTC
*oh
my darling
girl,
you're my
rose colored
world.*
Dec 13, 2017
Dec 13, 2017 at 11:50 PM UTC
Thick smoke lingers between us,
always being tiptoed around,
but never spoken about directly.
Never dare to speak the truth,
just pretend it's not there.
Day in and day out-
Billowing clouds float
from your eyes
into my pores,
seeping slowly,
dragging me down
with every glare.
I'm sorry to disappoint you,
but shouldn't you be used to it by now?
Nov 24, 2017
Nov 24, 2017 at 11:53 PM UTC
Green.
My surroundings-
miles of tall grass swaying in the breeze.
The aura of the girl sitting next to me.
Yellow.
Rays of sun that shine around her,
adding warmth to my already-blush heart.
Purple.
The dress that hugs her body,
begetting envy within me,
knowing I’m not as close to her as that fabric is
in this moment.
Peach.
The flowers I place in her dark tresses.
Her shoulders.
Her thighs.
Her hand that slowly slides into mine.
Pink.
The color that creeps into my cheeks.
Shine that reflects off her lips,
tempting me to taste them.
Red.
My heart,
about to beat out of my chest
as I slowly move toward her.
Gold.
Euphoria rushing into my bloodstream
as our lips meet for the first time.
May 26, 2017
May 26, 2017 at 2:29 PM UTC
I met a boy a few years ago.
His eyes were always searching for something lost,
but he never knew what he was looking for.
We became acquaintances,
and after a while,
dare I say,
we became friends.
He never talked much about his past,
but I was able to read his absent eyes,
the way he never made eye contact for too long,
or the way he forced himself away from anything
he might get attached to.
His eyes are always just as anxious as mine.
He is sitting right next to me now,
just as lost in the professor’s lecture as I am,
and he’s writing too,
pencil feverously scribbling whatever thoughts
cloud his mind in this moment.
It’s been four years since I met this boy,
and I have never been able to figure out his angle.
There must be something he wants,
some reason he still talks to me.
No one has stayed by my side for this long.
Could it be possible that he actually cares about me?
No, of course not,
That’s an idiotic thing to think.
But why else would he still be around me
when all I have been good for are
learning how to bake the perfect cupcakes together,
taking photos of the local wildlife,
and late night conversations about the stars?
The men I have known don’t care about those things.
The only thing that matters to them is
what’s between my legs,
and nothing else.
So could this one be different?
Could someone actually care about me?
May 11, 2017
May 11, 2017 at 8:10 AM UTC
I am currently sitting in class.
My body is screaming to break out
of this monotonous cycle.
If my heart beats any harder, I fear it might actually
b u r s t.
The professor is speaking but
the only words I hear are yours.
Each combination of letters and syllables that had escaped your lips
drenched me in this thick, venomous bile and
I can still feel it sloshing around in my boots now.
You took my credulous soul,
tricking me into believing you were good, you were pure,
and then ****** every drop of energy and sanity
you could get out of me
before leaving to drain another victim.
This is not the first time this has happened, either.
The amount of times I have been left for dead
has torn down my confidence and
burned my self-respect
into a crisp.
You labeled my body, “a piece of meat”,
its only use to pleasure and satisfy.
Having that beaten into my head,
literally,
I began to actually believe it.
My opinions did not matter, so my mouth should not speak.
Anytime people communicated with me was on their own time,
when they would get something out of it,
whether it be diffusing boredom, asking favors, *** etc.
And I would give it to them,
all the while silently begging that their intentions
were not all about them.
But when they got what they wanted, they left.
What I learned-
people will only use you.
-and that is what I believed was normal
for the longest time.
Trust is difficult when the
only question running through your mind
asks what everyone's angles are.
Because everyone you
had gotten close to,
had one.
May 11, 2017
May 11, 2017 at 7:58 AM UTC