downfall - Hello Poetry

I think that I was a pack of cardboard cigarettes Hidden under your pillow Or in your worn down guitar case You looked to me when your throat was closing up When your head was pounding And that guitar was strumming itself because it missed you as much as I did You looked to me when it was raining And lit me up just to watch me burn Let me dangle in your mouth And between your fingers Before flicking me to the floor and putting me out I think I was a pack of robins egg blue Cardboard cigarettes And as soon as I was out You would go get another pack For 5.45 at the gas station I am sitting in pieces where you left me I know I killed you I know I suffocated you But thats the only thing I know how to do Thats what I was made for It's taken me a long time to figure it out But I was made to destroy And I don't regret making you my victim Because you held me at four am and snuck away to be with me And you promised me you enjoyed it And you would love dying a death by something so beautiful But I watched you in pieces Grab another pack Light it up And let it dangle in your mouth I think I was always just a pack of cardboard cigarettes

0

Aug 23, 2014

Aug 23, 2014 at 7:24 PM UTC

Cardboard Cigarettes

I think that I was a pack of cardboard cigarettes Hidden under your pillow Or in your worn down guitar case You looked to me when your throat was closing up When your head was pounding And that guitar was strumming itself because it missed you as much as I did You looked to me when it was raining And lit me up just to watch me burn Let me dangle in your mouth And between your fingers Before flicking me to the floor and putting me out I think I was a pack of robins egg blue Cardboard cigarettes And as soon as I was out You would go get another pack For 5.45 at the gas station I am sitting in pieces where you left me I know I killed you I know I suffocated you But thats the only thing I know how to do Thats what I was made for It's taken me a long time to figure it out But I was made to destroy And I don't regret making you my victim Because you held me at four am and snuck away to be with me And you promised me you enjoyed it And you would love dying a death by something so beautiful But I watched you in pieces Grab another pack Light it up And let it dangle in your mouth I think I was always just a pack of cardboard cigarettes

33

If you haven't seen her, I feel sorry for you. She chased the world on it's tail And perfected the art of taking what wasn't hers. She let cigarettes dangle from her mouth And wrapped heartstrings loosely around her fingers. She slipped in and out of consciousness between sips of ***** And did what she could to **** herself in the softest way possible. She had blonde hair that fell in chunks past her face Down her shoulders like a waterfall And blue eyes that dulled to a soft gray in the winter Her poison wasn't the alcohol she drank like water Or how she smoked like it was good for her Her poison was how easily she made people fall in love Like tearing the wings off of a butterfly Watching tears roll down flushed cheeks No mercy or regret If you haven't seen her, I feel sorry for you Because I see her When she stumbles at two AM Black boots and a torn skirt Holes in her tights God, I've seen her. And I'd let her break my heart any day.

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Aug 21, 2014

Aug 21, 2014 at 12:25 PM UTC

If You Haven't Seen Her

If you haven't seen her, I feel sorry for you. She chased the world on it's tail And perfected the art of taking what wasn't hers. She let cigarettes dangle from her mouth And wrapped heartstrings loosely around her fingers. She slipped in and out of consciousness between sips of ***** And did what she could to **** herself in the softest way possible. She had blonde hair that fell in chunks past her face Down her shoulders like a waterfall And blue eyes that dulled to a soft gray in the winter Her poison wasn't the alcohol she drank like water Or how she smoked like it was good for her Her poison was how easily she made people fall in love Like tearing the wings off of a butterfly Watching tears roll down flushed cheeks No mercy or regret If you haven't seen her, I feel sorry for you Because I see her When she stumbles at two AM Black boots and a torn skirt Holes in her tights God, I've seen her. And I'd let her break my heart any day.

26

This is written sobriety This is that unfamiliar feeling of being in control of your hands Behind your own eyelids A bottle of ***** far out of reach So you have no choice but to trace your fingers over the carved pencil marks Written when your hands shook so uncomfortably And your eyes were lazy and reddened with drugs There was no one behind you to touch your shoulder And rip the wings off of your back The secrets you spilled into the whiskey are shut tight Placed out of reach for the children that crawl around on their hands and knees Oh, how you resemble them. These words you etched into your thigh With a pen and the burning sensation of being stared down Cold sweat drips onto the paper These words you etched into the wall next to the numbers Counting down the days in this enclosed space that is your own mind You are too lazy for an escape But too productive to do nothing So you write about how much you miss her You write about holding her and kissing her You write about her neck and her curves And how it felt to touch her You write about being sober and how awful it feels to be in control How there is no God Because he would go insane with all of this control You write about her body And her mind Her intellectual ways and how she traced the outline of your hand so formally. You write about her but you have to erase the word "alcohol" and replace it with the name of a woman you have never met And it's so easy to see why love and alcohol get mixed up so quickly They are the exact same This is written sobriety. When your throat doesn't burn but you can't sleep at night anyway Because there's no one next to you and the one thing you depended on The constant in your life Has vanished in a fit of anger against the wall Dont you see This is written sobriety.

0

Aug 18, 2014

Aug 18, 2014 at 11:24 AM UTC

This Is Written Sobriety

This is written sobriety This is that unfamiliar feeling of being in control of your hands Behind your own eyelids A bottle of ***** far out of reach So you have no choice but to trace your fingers over the carved pencil marks Written when your hands shook so uncomfortably And your eyes were lazy and reddened with drugs There was no one behind you to touch your shoulder And rip the wings off of your back The secrets you spilled into the whiskey are shut tight Placed out of reach for the children that crawl around on their hands and knees Oh, how you resemble them. These words you etched into your thigh With a pen and the burning sensation of being stared down Cold sweat drips onto the paper These words you etched into the wall next to the numbers Counting down the days in this enclosed space that is your own mind You are too lazy for an escape But too productive to do nothing So you write about how much you miss her You write about holding her and kissing her You write about her neck and her curves And how it felt to touch her You write about being sober and how awful it feels to be in control How there is no God Because he would go insane with all of this control You write about her body And her mind Her intellectual ways and how she traced the outline of your hand so formally. You write about her but you have to erase the word "alcohol" and replace it with the name of a woman you have never met And it's so easy to see why love and alcohol get mixed up so quickly They are the exact same This is written sobriety. When your throat doesn't burn but you can't sleep at night anyway Because there's no one next to you and the one thing you depended on The constant in your life Has vanished in a fit of anger against the wall Dont you see This is written sobriety.

39

Think of me before you plunge into the ocean Let me be the reason you come back up for air I'm not one for cheap metaphors But if you wrote them, holding a pen without ink, I would read every one with the traces of my fingers.

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Mar 9, 2014

Mar 9, 2014 at 6:28 PM UTC

Cheap Metaphors

Think of me before you plunge into the ocean Let me be the reason you come back up for air I'm not one for cheap metaphors But if you wrote them, holding a pen without ink, I would read every one with the traces of my fingers.

5

*You need to be pretty. You need to be pretty and you need to be quiet. You need to be pretty and you need to be quiet and you need to give everything to a man because he deserves it for putting a roof over your head. You need to be pretty. You need to be pretty and you need to be quiet You need to be pretty and you need to be quiet and you need to be appreciative of a man because he provides you with the life you were meant to live. Pretty Quiet Appreciative. Stay in your place. Don't talk back Don't flinch when he hits you Don't flinch when he touches you Don't flinch when he yells at you. Pretty Quiet Appreciative. Because you were born into the 21st century version of being sold off like a slave. Pretty Quiet Appreciative None of this is optional. You need to be (whoever you want) and you need to be (as loud as you want) and you need to (appreciate yourself) None of this is optional*

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Feb 27, 2014

Feb 27, 2014 at 11:25 AM UTC

Optional

*You need to be pretty. You need to be pretty and you need to be quiet. You need to be pretty and you need to be quiet and you need to give everything to a man because he deserves it for putting a roof over your head. You need to be pretty. You need to be pretty and you need to be quiet You need to be pretty and you need to be quiet and you need to be appreciative of a man because he provides you with the life you were meant to live. Pretty Quiet Appreciative. Stay in your place. Don't talk back Don't flinch when he hits you Don't flinch when he touches you Don't flinch when he yells at you. Pretty Quiet Appreciative. Because you were born into the 21st century version of being sold off like a slave. Pretty Quiet Appreciative None of this is optional. You need to be (whoever you want) and you need to be (as loud as you want) and you need to (appreciate yourself) None of this is optional*

23

but im only human I only miss you on Sundays when the sun peaks through the blinds and the tea tastes like regret and unhappiness. So I spit it out and make a new batch. but im only human I only miss you on Mondays when the dusk meets the dawn and I have to throw the pages of something I loved away. but im only human I only miss you on Tuesdays when the scent of you is traceable on my clothes and no matter how hard I scrub its still there but im only human I only miss you on Wednesdays when its the middle of the week and the clouds hide the sun like a punishment and I remember how much you love the rain. but im only human I only miss you on Thursdays when I know you would've been home by now, and I would make some ****** dish of food that neither of us would eat but you would say it's "delicious anyway." but im only human I only miss you on Fridays when you would put on a movie we've seen seventeen times and absentmindedly rub my hand over with your thumb and I wish you would've rubbed it raw. but im only human I only miss you on Saturdays when the cemetery is closed and I have to drive past it on my way to the store because we're out of milk and you're not there to buy it anymore. but im only human

0

Feb 27, 2014

Feb 27, 2014 at 11:13 AM UTC

The Days I Miss You

but im only human I only miss you on Sundays when the sun peaks through the blinds and the tea tastes like regret and unhappiness. So I spit it out and make a new batch. but im only human I only miss you on Mondays when the dusk meets the dawn and I have to throw the pages of something I loved away. but im only human I only miss you on Tuesdays when the scent of you is traceable on my clothes and no matter how hard I scrub its still there but im only human I only miss you on Wednesdays when its the middle of the week and the clouds hide the sun like a punishment and I remember how much you love the rain. but im only human I only miss you on Thursdays when I know you would've been home by now, and I would make some ****** dish of food that neither of us would eat but you would say it's "delicious anyway." but im only human I only miss you on Fridays when you would put on a movie we've seen seventeen times and absentmindedly rub my hand over with your thumb and I wish you would've rubbed it raw. but im only human I only miss you on Saturdays when the cemetery is closed and I have to drive past it on my way to the store because we're out of milk and you're not there to buy it anymore. but im only human

16

I never know what I'm going to say when I start to write. I know what I'm feeling. A mixture between wanting to be without you But never wanting to be alone. I know the words, The vowels that I learned in Kindergarten. I even remember the song. We're pulling in opposite directions Looking for the same thing I never know what I'm going to say when I start to write. But it's usually about you.

0

Feb 26, 2014

Feb 26, 2014 at 10:28 PM UTC

My Muse

I never know what I'm going to say when I start to write. I know what I'm feeling. A mixture between wanting to be without you But never wanting to be alone. I know the words, The vowels that I learned in Kindergarten. I even remember the song. We're pulling in opposite directions Looking for the same thing I never know what I'm going to say when I start to write. But it's usually about you.

11