she used to be a collector of the shards of broken hearts
but now she collects whole, happy hearts, the hearts she's stolen
jumping in jars on her bookshelf.
her petal lips part in a demure smile
she shows her teeth because she no longer has to hide ****** fangs
her delicate hands are covered in baby-soft skin,
washed clean of bloodstains
she likes to bake now
instead of ****
and she writes poetry
instead of obituaries
Jan 10, 2016
Jan 10, 2016 at 7:12 PM UTC
Poison courses through my veins,
jealousy erodes my bones.
The acid of negativity is leaving me nothing more than a shell.
Jul 27, 2015
Jul 27, 2015 at 1:47 AM UTC
There once was a boy with bones of obsidian and onyx eyes.
He held me as if all that was beneath my
thickly woven sweater sleeves was my
hollow crystal skeleton.
He held me up to the light like
seaglass he discovered on the beach
and let the sunset filter through me.
One night the onyx in his eyes was sparkling with glints of ruby
and what he didn't know when he
wrapped his hand around my neck and squeezed too tight,
reached into my chest and stole an artery from my rose quartz heart
and an amethyst knuckle from my ring finger,
was that beneath my rose-gold toenails
were leaden feet.
I kicked him swiftly in the groin and ran.
Then came a boy with sapphire eyes.
When he touched me, I felt polished and clean.
He was the first boy I let
take off my knitted sweater.
He stroked the smooth surface of my bones
and when he shattered them,
he would help me repair them.
Between the cracks of my translucent skeleton
are slivers of the shiniest sapphire
you've ever seen.
Jun 9, 2015
Jun 9, 2015 at 10:29 AM UTC
i am
a sinner.
my insides tainted, my sweet pink heart
is stained a dark deep brown.
my lips beg for more.
more of the sweet taste,
just a bit more of Heaven.
my brain shouts
"no!
not a single bite more of the wretched sin!"
my tongue tastes sour
my stomach lurches and up come my sins,
reflected in the concerned ripples
deep in your ocean-blue eyes.
the words sour, i retch and fall
lifeless
into your arms.
Feb 7, 2015
Feb 7, 2015 at 8:34 PM UTC
hot baths, breakdowns, too close, too loud. lost, alone, confused, worthless. self-image, self-confidence, self-love. questions. "What do you want to be when you're older?" "Where are you going to college?" "How are your grades?"
How are my grades? How am I! I'm breaking down every night, crying in the shower, trashing the organized file cabinet of my mind, scouring every inch of my consciousness trying to find out who I am. Emotionally unstable. Lost. Mentally unstable. Lost.
Ask me how I am.
Jan 3, 2015
Jan 3, 2015 at 5:39 PM UTC
Let me love you. Let me make out with you, then trail my lips from your neck all the way down to just above the waistband of your underwear. Just imagine the feeling of my lips hovering just above that sweet spot where your hot desire is growing. My warm breath across your skin, my lips and tongue and gentle touch in the perfect spot, igniting a flame in the deepest depths of you, striking a match in your heart. Imagine my hands under your thighs, just slightly holding your legs up while I kiss and lick and **** Imagine how the warmth and tingling sensation will travel up your spine and into your head and back down your chest while you breathe, heavy and sporadic. Imagine how much harder you'll get when you see me come up to breathe, smirking smugly, my **** in the air, covered in lacy ******* my hair a mess from you sliding your hands in and out of it, my lips wet, my ******* aching hard and straining my bra. Think about running your hands all along those full curves, like two berries, ripe and ready to be picked. Hold them gently, as if one too-tight squeeze could break them. Kiss my lips as if one too-hard kiss could shatter them to pieces like a wineglass on a wooden floor. Touch me like I'm made of porcelain and listen to me moan "I love you. I love you. I love you."
Do you miss me now?
Dec 28, 2014
Dec 28, 2014 at 4:34 AM UTC
december is near.
blink your eyes,
december is here.
here come the platters piled high with
sins.
is this really "the most wonderful time of the year'?
god, it all
looks
so
good.
the whispers curl around my ears.
no. no. fat. calories. crunches. jumping jacks. calories. fat. weight.
the holidays aren't about family.
this is war.
this is about self-control.
this is about my honor.
on goes the lip gloss, the too-big dresses
so nobody notices how fat i am.
"have you lost weight?"
stop making fun of me.
"aren't you going to eat?"
i'm nauseous. lies
i already ate. lies
i'm eating later. lies
don't touch me.
don't hug me.
don't speak to me.
surrounded by sins
calories
fat
bait for their traps.
just one bite?
Dec 24, 2014
Dec 24, 2014 at 6:57 PM UTC
what a life it is
to live in love
with an ideal self.
to be in love with one
who doesn't exist,
not even in fiction,
only in the realm of your mind.
what a life it is
to look in the mirror
and feel your soul shatter
but when you look away,
you can pretend you are
the version of you that you see in your head.
I'm not the only one. I know it.
Biographers say that Sylvia Plath was in love with her dream self, encompassed in a strange egotistical fantasy.
I live in that same fantasy.
How do I make fantasy me
the real me?
Dec 8, 2014
Dec 8, 2014 at 6:55 PM UTC
Religion has always been shaky ground for me.
I believed in God
until I was 11
and he killed off my baby sister.
After that, I had no God.
When I was 13, I began to pray again
and wear that sacred cross
around my neck on a dainty chain.
When I was 15, I fell in love with you.
I stopped praying.
My cross was replaced by a silver heart pendant.
A symbol of your love.
I fell asleep waiting for a text
from you every night,
so many nights in a row that praying became so out of routine that I didn't even try it anymore.
Now, you've left.
I have no God, once more.
Faith is such a scary thing. It's like walking out onto a frozen lake without checking the thickness of the ice first.
Tragically, our ice was paper thin.
I've fallen into the deep, cold waters of heartbreak.
My heart is a block of ice now.
Amen.
Dec 5, 2014
Dec 5, 2014 at 11:18 PM UTC