You have the prettiest eyes.
Your intelligence makes you even more beautiful.
I love how you never get tired of my silliness.
I love that you love my humor.
When we are apart it makes me happy to think about how you'll always support me from afar.
In hard times you offer valuable insight into the eyes of a mother.
The moment you decided to have kids, you took the oath of a mother, and I will forever be grateful that it was your arms God placed me in.
May 9, 2020
May 9, 2020 at 9:22 PM UTC
I need to get buzzed
Drunk
High
I need to erase
Hide
Disappear
I need to break
Crumble
Fall
Apr 30, 2020
Apr 30, 2020 at 2:10 PM UTC
Uneasy
Falling
Tumbling
Continuous
Movement
Bottomless
Pain
Crashing
To
Oblivion
Apr 30, 2020
Apr 30, 2020 at 2:01 PM UTC
In the beginning, everything was normal.
He picked me up, wearing a suit and bow tie,
We drove through town in his red car.
His dark blue eyes reminding me of the night sky
When the light shown into them making stars.
I think I am in love. We keep driving.
Down the interstate ramp, going at least ninety.
Into the night we fly, town after town.
Finally, he takes an exit into a small town.
He took me to a motel, threw me on the bed.
Cut my arms open, and did the same
To what lay under my flower dress.
He stuffed me like a doll, with pieces of himself.
We stained the sheets with *** and blood.
"I'll take care of you forever," he said.
My head goes soft. I know what's coming.
He flips me to my stomach, hand around my throat,
I feel his body pressed against mine.
I claw at his arm, trying to get him to let go.
His grip tightens, my breath is nearly gone.
All goes black. As I awake I notice a red light.
And motion. He's taking me somewhere.
The motion stops, the red lights turn off.
The trunk opens, I look up into his face.
I try to speak, to ask why, but no sound comes out.
He lifts my body from the trunk, crazy in his eyes.
He whispers, "We're the same, no control."
My head lolls back, too exhausted to hold it up.
He sets me in a bed of pine needles and mud.
I watch him walk away, close my eyes.
I hear the footsteps return, open my eyes.
I am squinting into the barrel of a gun.
Bang.
I feel the life drain from my body.
My soul is floating, my mind drifting into the black.
I relax into the earth.
He waits until my breathing slows to a stop.
I have lain here for days,
The sun quickening the rotting of my flesh.
My ribcage holds dirt and weeds,
My limbs are dead and dried.
No one has come to listen to my story,
But I know without a doubt, someone will come.
They will hear me. They will help me.
They will search for answers.
I know someday justice will be served.
I will be found.
And so will he.
Dec 28, 2017
Dec 28, 2017 at 9:56 PM UTC
As sudden as an ocean wave, the valve in his heart gave up.
Standing at the cemetery gates I finally understood.
He is gone. He is missed.
But he is not coming back.
In the blink of an eye, he was under the truck.
Standing at the cemetery gates I finally found peace.
Peace with the truck driver and peace with myself.
Most importantly peace with God.
As the bullet hit the gun dropped from his head to the floor.
Standing at the cemetery gates I was angry.
Angry as his parents, angry at the school.
Angry with myself. But mostly angry at him.
Her car veered off the road, down the ledge and into the water but it wasn't an accident.
Standing at the cemetery gates I was lost.
I couldn't understand why this happened.
I couldn't fathom why she did this to herself.
Thanksgiving morning, metal on metal, laughter dies.
Standing at the cemetery gates I was broken.
My soul so tired, holding those around me.
One life was gone and another hung in the balance.
His father saw him drop the gun as his body fell, wanted to run and save his son.
Standing at the cemetery gates I was numb.
Numb with shock and fear and cold
During that frigid and depressing December.
You can't beat the train. He knew but didn't listen.
Standing at the cemetery gates I was empty.
So many pieces of my heart were taken during the year
I wasn't sure there was anything left.
Standing at the cemetery gates I look around at all the friends I have buried. I thought high school was supposed to be the simple time in life, but if that's the case, why did they all have to go?
Jul 13, 2017
Jul 13, 2017 at 4:44 PM UTC
I'm not me.
I may be you.
Or her.
Or him.
Or them.
But I'm not me.
My chest aches with the feeling of wanting to be belonged.
My heart aches with the feeling of wanting to be loved the way that I love.
My head aches because I want to scream.
While my bones turn to jelly, and my thoughts turn to suicide.
Everynight is long.
Everyday is tiring.
I wish you'd understand that my brain aches for something I don't believe I have.
You may think, that I am insane. Or considering I'm technically you, I may think I am insane.
These personalities swarm me, and I've never known myself.
Someone may love your laugh because it's unique. The way your nose cringed because of a smell. The way your eyes sparkle when you see something exciting.
Those are traits that make you .. you.
I'm swarmed. You have something to call you're own.
I'm not me. You have something to grow off of.
I may be you. You have something that people will love.
Or her. You have something people will come back for.
Or him. You have something that won't run.
Or them. You have something that makes you unique.
But I'm not me. You have something that I want.
Jul 8, 2017
Jul 8, 2017 at 9:16 PM UTC
I once had
a beautiful voice
and you asked me
why I no longer sing.
I turned to you
and quietly replied
"because I was a bird,
and you clipped my wings."
Jul 7, 2017
Jul 7, 2017 at 11:08 PM UTC
He was a soldier
who did not carry
a weapon.
Yet she could feel
a thousand bullets
pierce through
her heart.
- n. ib
Jul 7, 2017
Jul 7, 2017 at 8:13 PM UTC
You made me cry today.
You raised your voice at me
as if I wasn't sitting in the seat
right next to you.
You told me I didn't listen -
that I never listened.
And that I didn't understand,
nor even try.
You screamed all this
at the top of your lungs
instead of
being a mature parent
and talk with your daughter
in a civilised tone.
But you don't do civil,
do you, mum?
But then again, you don't see your faults either
but focus on mine and others'.
It's funny how you accuse me of not
listening when in reality
you cut me off when I tried to speak.
You took my voice, mum.
And you refused to give it back.
Jul 7, 2017
Jul 7, 2017 at 8:10 PM UTC