bohdithackray - Hello Poetry

writing. it starts out like cutting wrapping paper scissors creating one smooth straight cut, satisfying. then it turns to cutting my wrists painful and deep and i hurt myself again.

0

May 1, 2023

May 1, 2023 at 5:51 AM UTC

writing

writing. it starts out like cutting wrapping paper scissors creating one smooth straight cut, satisfying. then it turns to cutting my wrists painful and deep and i hurt myself again.

6

i do not believe that i am able to be loved. i can love so hard and so passionately, but i am never able to receive what i give. no matter what you do, i can not fathom the idea of myself being seen any other way than broken. i want to so badly be that person for you, but we both know i can’t be. you don’t need me. you had everything and more, and i can’t even stand close to that. so here i go breaking my own heart. but it’s comfortable for me. i’m used to the heartache i feed myself.

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Apr 26, 2023

Apr 26, 2023 at 10:15 AM UTC

regret

i do not believe that i am able to be loved. i can love so hard and so passionately, but i am never able to receive what i give. no matter what you do, i can not fathom the idea of myself being seen any other way than broken. i want to so badly be that person for you, but we both know i can’t be. you don’t need me. you had everything and more, and i can’t even stand close to that. so here i go breaking my own heart. but it’s comfortable for me. i’m used to the heartache i feed myself.

6

i find myself easily obsessed whether it’s a piece of writing a lyric a person if it’s enough to captivate me for even just a second i can fall in love.

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Feb 12, 2023

Feb 12, 2023 at 8:46 AM UTC

obsession

i find myself easily obsessed whether it’s a piece of writing a lyric a person if it’s enough to captivate me for even just a second i can fall in love.

6

i promised myself one day i would continue to write, but the thoughts and the words only come at night 11pm warm summer breeze, they come from all around, from the leaves in the trees. i hear the whispers i hear the songs, reminding me of all my rights and poisoning my with all my wrongs. maybe if i didn’t listen, tried to block it out, i’d be able to sleep without feeling doubt i’m nostalgic for the lives i haven’t lived, listening to my breathing through creaking ribs. 11 turns to 12, and my head is pounding. if only i could sleep to save me from drowning i can hear the remnants of lost conversation, and even my cries that have been mistaken. i wish i could scream, i wish i could yell. but my minds on fire, i’m living in hell 12 turns to 1, and it all goes silent. much contrast to the thoughts that were violent. what will happen when i awake in the morning, oh darling it’s okay the night was for mourning.

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Feb 8, 2023

Feb 8, 2023 at 8:29 AM UTC

sunday blues

i promised myself one day i would continue to write, but the thoughts and the words only come at night 11pm warm summer breeze, they come from all around, from the leaves in the trees. i hear the whispers i hear the songs, reminding me of all my rights and poisoning my with all my wrongs. maybe if i didn’t listen, tried to block it out, i’d be able to sleep without feeling doubt i’m nostalgic for the lives i haven’t lived, listening to my breathing through creaking ribs. 11 turns to 12, and my head is pounding. if only i could sleep to save me from drowning i can hear the remnants of lost conversation, and even my cries that have been mistaken. i wish i could scream, i wish i could yell. but my minds on fire, i’m living in hell 12 turns to 1, and it all goes silent. much contrast to the thoughts that were violent. what will happen when i awake in the morning, oh darling it’s okay the night was for mourning.

6

I couldn't call you heartless that's just inhumane but maybe it'd suit you you lack something deep inside you're hollow, heartless, cold. words like venom words like fire burn and itch my skin the lies, deceit dark place cold place where a heart should stand I see nothing I feel nothing just a black, empty space

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Nov 20, 2019

Nov 20, 2019 at 8:46 AM UTC

hollow

I couldn't call you heartless that's just inhumane but maybe it'd suit you you lack something deep inside you're hollow, heartless, cold. words like venom words like fire burn and itch my skin the lies, deceit dark place cold place where a heart should stand I see nothing I feel nothing just a black, empty space

19

A piece of card. Just one a year, just one day a year. A day that signifies my birth. Something of great praise; but yet means so little, valueless. The plain, childish print, a basic grandmother to granddaughter birthday card. A hollow, faint slap as it hits the table. Weak and fragile, representing our bond. One card, one day a year, all I have and know of you. It hasn’t moved far. From the occasional movement slightly left or a bit right, caused from gazing over the meaningless words in curiosity. But it’s been years since it’s left my room, and it’s old paper is now slowly breaking down, and fading away. I can’t picture my room without it, so for now, it’s not going anywhere. Still, even though I don’t care for it, or for you, I could not bring myself to throw away the only memory I have left. Your small, bold handwriting spells out my name. I try to hear your voice saying my name, but I can’t. The words are hollow to me, worthless. Spoken by anyone else, it could fill you up. But because they came from your mouth, someone who means nothing to me. They’re empty, pointless words. What really makes me wonder, runs through my head, crossing every corner of my imagination, is the irony of the print on this particular birthday card. A magical, mythical beast prancing on the front. A childhood symbol of freedom and awe that catches and drags at a kids mind, representing magic and youth. Yet, you gave it to me. Whether you thought into it, or it was a random pick of hand. A last minute stop at the news agency closest to my house, the smell of newspapers and old vents forcing you to pick the first card that looks mildly appropriate for the occasion. A rushed and careless decision. Or through my own negligence had I misjudged the entire situation. Have I become so sure that of how thought you had made me feel that it had become true, had it been misconceived all this time. I’ve convinced myself that you broke my heart, that you were the bad guy. It’s been so long now my mind struggles to paint the image of your face, your name is the only thing that remains within the twisted stories and confused family lines. You’re just a memory. Although it means nothing now, and will never mean anything, the story sticks with the card. It’ll always be a memory. A reminder of you. And for as long as I live, it’ll stay with me. Occasionally moving slightly left, or a bit to the right; from a curious kid, just trying to remember.

0

Mar 19, 2019

Mar 19, 2019 at 8:32 AM UTC

you broke me before I even knew what heartbreak was

A piece of card. Just one a year, just one day a year. A day that signifies my birth. Something of great praise; but yet means so little, valueless. The plain, childish print, a basic grandmother to granddaughter birthday card. A hollow, faint slap as it hits the table. Weak and fragile, representing our bond. One card, one day a year, all I have and know of you. It hasn’t moved far. From the occasional movement slightly left or a bit right, caused from gazing over the meaningless words in curiosity. But it’s been years since it’s left my room, and it’s old paper is now slowly breaking down, and fading away. I can’t picture my room without it, so for now, it’s not going anywhere. Still, even though I don’t care for it, or for you, I could not bring myself to throw away the only memory I have left. Your small, bold handwriting spells out my name. I try to hear your voice saying my name, but I can’t. The words are hollow to me, worthless. Spoken by anyone else, it could fill you up. But because they came from your mouth, someone who means nothing to me. They’re empty, pointless words. What really makes me wonder, runs through my head, crossing every corner of my imagination, is the irony of the print on this particular birthday card. A magical, mythical beast prancing on the front. A childhood symbol of freedom and awe that catches and drags at a kids mind, representing magic and youth. Yet, you gave it to me. Whether you thought into it, or it was a random pick of hand. A last minute stop at the news agency closest to my house, the smell of newspapers and old vents forcing you to pick the first card that looks mildly appropriate for the occasion. A rushed and careless decision. Or through my own negligence had I misjudged the entire situation. Have I become so sure that of how thought you had made me feel that it had become true, had it been misconceived all this time. I’ve convinced myself that you broke my heart, that you were the bad guy. It’s been so long now my mind struggles to paint the image of your face, your name is the only thing that remains within the twisted stories and confused family lines. You’re just a memory. Although it means nothing now, and will never mean anything, the story sticks with the card. It’ll always be a memory. A reminder of you. And for as long as I live, it’ll stay with me. Occasionally moving slightly left, or a bit to the right; from a curious kid, just trying to remember.

4

I hold every little memory of us deep inside my heart so I can relive every second of every kiss every touch of your skin on mine Of your eyes holding me frozen still and your smile taking me so deep into your soul I hold this so close to me because baby I would go back in time To every moment we had together Just to feel my heart smile the way you make it smile again

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Mar 19, 2019

Mar 19, 2019 at 8:25 AM UTC

you.

I hold every little memory of us deep inside my heart so I can relive every second of every kiss every touch of your skin on mine Of your eyes holding me frozen still and your smile taking me so deep into your soul I hold this so close to me because baby I would go back in time To every moment we had together Just to feel my heart smile the way you make it smile again

9

its the feeling that draws me back in every time without a second thought i find myself obsessed with you all over again no matter how may times you break me i'll always crawl back for the slightest bit of your affection because im addicted to you and im addicted to your love

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Sep 19, 2018

Sep 19, 2018 at 8:02 AM UTC

im attached to your love

its the feeling that draws me back in every time without a second thought i find myself obsessed with you all over again no matter how may times you break me i'll always crawl back for the slightest bit of your affection because im addicted to you and im addicted to your love

8

A little hope Can go a long way But i’m done hoping Because all my hope Has been wasted Chasing after things I could never have

0

Aug 29, 2018

Aug 29, 2018 at 5:47 AM UTC

hopeless love