My face peels as if getting to the middle
of a twisted plot, my spine is sore,
I’m used too much, I’ve got finger stains
from every one whose ever touched me.
Some of my inside is missing, how does one
come to the ending of things
if you have to keep skipping the important parts;
It doesn’t matter really, you get the gist of what I’m saying. I’m worn and lightweight
as a paperback laid out on a summer day.
You read my expressions plainly; your eyes
skimming over the poor grammar, you say “
I want to write myself in your story
“ and scribble your name on my arm.
Jun 19, 2018
Jun 19, 2018 at 4:13 PM UTC
.
.
.
The princess
doesn’t save herself
In this one.
Old friends travel far
to remind her of her kingdom.
.
.
...theprettypoems..,
Jun 18, 2018
Jun 18, 2018 at 10:42 AM UTC
.
.
.
The rain is falling faster
Every second
Like so many past metaphors.
.
.
...theprettypoems...
Jun 17, 2018
Jun 17, 2018 at 6:16 PM UTC
First it was my throat. My lymph nodes were swollen. I knew it was a blocked throat chakra.
The words would not come out right,
The words would not come out at all.
It showed itself on your hands
And it’s the first time you ever felt Death pat you on the hands. Many things you wouldn’t understand.
Like why every night you would wake up at 3 am in a rapid temper. This isn’t a pen it’s your fist.
My hands kept turning purple, bruised. This is the first time that I’ve wrote it down, and it’s silent. Then it was my eyes
My eyelids swollen, and if this isn’t a sign then I don’t know what is. The mute is going blind.
there is a pounding headache, this isn’t a poem, this is just some angst confession about depression and how if I don’t write, I’ll die.
Jun 11, 2018
Jun 11, 2018 at 10:43 PM UTC
.
.
A car hopper runs down the drive-through to say Hey
You forgot you had a
Heartbreak
With that drink.
.
.
...theprettypoems...
Jun 9, 2018
Jun 9, 2018 at 7:36 PM UTC
.
.
.
It was a mistake to play with fire. You feel the heat and keep a safe distance when you've been burned by love. Nobody said how hard it was going to be to open up again.
.
.
....theprettypoems....
Jun 6, 2018
Jun 6, 2018 at 6:05 PM UTC
.
.
My eyes like a sharpened blade
I surrender.
.
.
....theprettypoems....
Jun 6, 2018
Jun 6, 2018 at 1:50 PM UTC
.
.
.
.
.
May you always have soft sunlight, a full moon, a bus that always comes on time. Flowers. May your kisses feel like falling, like stars blossoming into nebulas. Good hands. May you feel like you are infinity, like time is always on your side. You are divine. A mouth full of words that sound like "Yes," Eyes full of darling. Skin soft like snow. May you always smell like honeysuckle, perfume as flowery as honest conversations. Laughter. A lazy afternoon spent staring at clouds. May you have love. Love you can whisper to. Love you can scream about, write about, sing about. May you always love yourself most of all.
....theprettypoems....
.
.
Jun 5, 2018
Jun 5, 2018 at 9:16 PM UTC
i always recommend
if you can't stop crying
to drink a cold glass
of water.
a new study reveals
44 genes that link to depression
imflammation leads to depression
water reduces inflammation in the body
and i also recommend to go
outside in the sun
your crown shakra warm
with gold light
grass boosts serotonin in the brain
the sun changes chemicals
the water changes chemicals
depression is a chemical imbalance
in the brain
and once you realize that
it will somewhat normalize
the dis-ease
it will make it seem
less like
it's all in your head.
it's real.
depression.
May 1, 2018
May 1, 2018 at 7:14 PM UTC
softness. mushroom
stupor, hazy wine eyes.
she wants to get up to leave.
she stays to have another drink.
bright eyes. golden goblet.
she's not planning to stay sober.
fill the mouth with the ocean,
drink until its almost empty.
.
.
it aches her heart to know how heroes are made.
she prays that she still has time
to trade places with him.
She'd rather take the pain herself.
Feb 16, 2018
Feb 16, 2018 at 7:52 AM UTC