As I doodled a star onto you
You looked at me and smiled,
And suddenly I felt this little ink star inadequate
Because you had a galaxy
Already in your eyes
Jun 19, 2016
Jun 19, 2016 at 10:53 AM UTC
With these flowers between us I cannot see your face
And with this table separating us I cannot feel your heart beat.
The flowers give off a sickly smell,
One that implies they are dying.
But both of us ignore them,
Because we too, are dying.
There is nothing between us now
But I still cannot see your face,
My face is in the crook of your shoulder
As we dance achingly slowly around the kitchen;
This death defying dance is no longer about living,
Now it’s more about not dying
In our moonlight waltz we fall into unharmonious synchronization
Our steps taken prisoner by the serenading stars,
Following the beat of the comet-streaked sky.
His heartbeat matches the pace of our dance and
He twirls me to the tune of his truths that hurt more
Than his lies.
We tango through the house,
Our feet stepping on the cursed mirror shards
That show all we used to be,
When the flowers did not smell sickly,
But had the intoxicating aroma of life.
What stupid flowers.
He dips me into the bed we used to share
I grip onto him for dear life.
Our feet are bloodied, leaving marks all around.
I was the one who taught him this dance in the first place.
This foxtrot of lies and self-doubt and tears,
He always was a better follower than leader.
Around again and again
We wear trenches in the hallways and
Forts in the kitchen.
One of us knocks over the table, such a little misstep,
But the flowers in their vase fall, shattering everywhere.
You don’t have a heartbeat anymore.
May 22, 2016
May 22, 2016 at 4:53 PM UTC
Today you said you were perfect
And, I know you were joking, but I couldn’t stop wondering:
How could you be so perfect with so many scars?
But then I realized.
The scars, the marks, the pain,
That’s what makes you beautiful.
Not perfect,
But so close to it, the line starts to blur.
Everything you’ve admitted to me,
Every time you let your soul bleed out to me,
I see you,
Not the ‘perfect’ you,
But the beautiful you.
The you who has endured so, so much.
The you who doesn’t paint on a smile,
The you that stands there,
And bears the unbearable with me.
The you who holds up my sky for me even as my world shatters.
So maybe you aren’t perfect,
Maybe your chipped tooth smile and your splintered heart
Are showcased in glass to the world,
And maybe the scars you’ve shown me still bleed,
But maybe,
You’re beautiful to me.
Apr 28, 2016
Apr 28, 2016 at 9:16 PM UTC
to those of you who have been wondering where i went--
i'm sorry i disappeared.
i write when i feel too many emotions,
and lately i haven't felt much of those.
Apr 24, 2016
Apr 24, 2016 at 7:27 PM UTC
She spat the word ‘pity’ out, as if it burns her tongue.
She wouldn’t look at him as she scraped poison from her pretty lips.
Her nails dug into her thighs until ****** half-moons appeared.
She knew she was hurting him to hurt herself, but she couldn’t stop.
Insults flew from her mouth like a double edged sword.
And as she stood over the grave, she too died slowly.
Apr 24, 2016
Apr 24, 2016 at 7:25 PM UTC
I said so much that night
Drunk off what I couldn’t have
But unsaid words still hung- hang- out of mouth
Secrets that beg to whispered
To an ear I know will listen
And a heart so closely guarded that
Its open
How do I say what my mouth cannot form?
Or do you already understand me?
You say you know me inside and out
So I just have to pray-
To a god I don’t believe exists-
That you know everything
Mar 31, 2016
Mar 31, 2016 at 8:55 PM UTC
In my head I’m on my knees
Hands over my ears
Trying to block the voices in my head
From yelling,
From screaming at me.
But you can’t block out voices that are within,
So they continue this racket of torture
This monumental mass of self destruction
“You’ll never be good enough!”
“You can’t do this!”
Their voices hoarse from yelling at me
Because they do it all the time.
And I want to give up, oh god, I want to give up.
I’m spiraling down down down
Into a sea of my own creation,
Made of tears and regret and wasted hope
I don’t know how much longer I can stay on my knees
Praying to a god I don’t think exists.
Trying to halt what cannot be stopped
Just like you can’t stop a heart from breaking.
“Nothing is wrong with the educational system”
They say
But how can that be true
When there are countless other kids
Just like me?
Losing themselves to numbers, to statistics, to tests, to homework
Never knowing how to breath,
Because the weight of school bears down on them
Like Atlas, they try to hold the world.
But no one can hold the world,
And so they’re crushed under it.
Just like I am crushed by these voices.
Mar 15, 2016
Mar 15, 2016 at 9:47 PM UTC
Tonight I am a mass of self-destruction
Tearing, ripping, clawing my way through raw emotions
As if they were confetti paper
But this birthday party is of self-loathing and carnage
The cake made of lies and secrets and violent regret
The balloons pop with the sound of cannons
Shattering the red and silver streaked sky,
The confetti-ed emotions fall from above in a mob of raging color
Craving to bury me beneath them.
It wrenches me apart from the inside out,
Creating cracks in my porcelain body where flaming blood protrudes,
My head a mountainous fiery smog of all too much
A volcano of beautifully deadly words that threaten to destroy me
Imminent doom from this unbreakable, immortal, immoral confetti
Tonight I am a mass of self-destruction
and this time, I refuse to take you down with me.
Mar 5, 2016
Mar 5, 2016 at 10:50 AM UTC
I, the queen,
Sit atop this throne of lies
This bed of secrets
This house of insecurity.
I alone rules these thing,
Long forgotten or freshly made,
Its all black, white, and red here
Black- darker than the light ******* black holes
White- lighter than the ashes of an exploded volcano
Red- brighter than the blood that stains this dress.
I, the queen,
Rule this land of hate,
Of sin,
Of breathlessness.
With an iron fist I govern all within my realm
To make up for these broken, rusted wings,
Which I have so graciously ripped off my back.
Fallen I am no more,
After all,
It is better to rule in hell than serve in heaven.
Mar 4, 2016
Mar 4, 2016 at 2:11 PM UTC
*** for tat he said
And so we cut our scars, and our veiled secrets bled
Unto each other, ‘til we were both dead.
I always called him innocent to ways I was not
But then I realized as I watched his soul get shot
That we were both seasoned in sadness in ways we ought to have naught.
The two wept for who they never knew,
But they tried in vain to push through
Because they wanted oh-so-desperately to start anew
So I cry for the boy with the lost twin
And him for the girl with the mother who has been
But two hearts now conjoined, and together they begin again
Feb 29, 2016
Feb 29, 2016 at 10:37 AM UTC