Instead of a heart,
You had a piggy bank.
And instead of happiness,
You wanted to be filled with
A kind of freedom that doesn’t exist.
Freedom from who you are,
but that can never change.
I wrote lines and lines of poems,
about how my heart sang
when you held me.
While you just scraped together
lines and lines for me
on your kitchen counter,
And told me that this was you
giving me the world.
When I asked for love,
you handed me
Glasses of gin,
instead of holding me.
You filled me with fear,
When it should have been safety.
I asked for a husband,
And you handed me a pipe.
Was this the great love I dreamed of?
Glass pipes instead of slippers,
And my soul mate,
My perfect fit who pummels me into shape.
I faded into a ******* maid,
"A hollow selfish person,
who only one person could bear to love."
My dream lover,
a 6 foot 3 tradie with the temper of a 2-year-old.
27, and he still throws his toys.
It’s a shame that I’m the only thing he likes to play with.
The more he played, the lighter I became.
Soon it went from pushing, to throwing.
After tiny bruises came blood.
The pain his horrid words made,
Echoing in my head,
Like ricocheting shrapnel.
The tightness of his grip,
Leaving his handprints all over me.
The same hands that brought me pleasure,
Brought far more pain.
Lips that I once eagerly watched,
Waiting, wanting to kiss,
Now were the gate keepers,
to the most hurtful words he possessed.
The skin that once excited me,
Now pressed against me,
Holding me to the floor
as he staked his ******* claim on my body.
Jun 27, 2016
Jun 27, 2016 at 12:09 PM UTC
how can i compete with the seven wonders,
when i still wonder about myself?
although i may not have seven seas,
i have more than seven scars
for every war
that i have waged and won.
no, i’m not an ancient artifact, or culturally significant,
but baby, it took me years to build these walls up around me.
and i don’t have beautiful snow-capped mountains,
or perfectly calm blue bays.
you know i'm like wild seas, throwing handfuls of men to their deaths.
to them, these unknown waters
strong undercurrents
unpredictable tides,
were too difficult,
too terrifying, to navigate.
baby, you're standing on the edge,
and just
one more step
could make you feel like,
you're ******* the king of the world.
Dec 15, 2015
Dec 15, 2015 at 12:29 AM UTC
"poor little rich girl,
with her pretty face,
her well-off parents,
her mental illness,
and all the ***** drugs and hair dye she wants.
you'll
be
fine"
the lump in my throat grew,
pulsating,
larger,
and larger,
i feared i would choke to death
on the internalisation
of my own emotions.
Dec 14, 2015
Dec 14, 2015 at 7:33 AM UTC
they say every living creature dies alone,
but why would you want to live that way too?
Dec 14, 2015
Dec 14, 2015 at 7:18 AM UTC
oh you’re drawn to the horizon,
but i’m just drawn to you.
Dec 14, 2015
Dec 14, 2015 at 7:14 AM UTC
day one,
we made eyes at each other,
through the rising smoke
and drunken howls.
“cocky *******
i thought to myself,
as you spoke loudly to someone about me.
an empty compliment fell out of your mouth,
and tried to wriggle it’s way into my pants.
i coyly smiled,
not yet sure of my intentions,
but when i peeked up at you,
our eyes met.
and for a mere 6 seconds,
in a lifetime of millions,
i was stuck.
drawn to every tiny hazel fleck
that was scattered through the pale blue.
they sang to me and i
melted
we’d known each other
for less than an hour,
but the way your eyes gazed into mine,
it was as if you knew
exactly
what was inside me.
we melted together
so easily.
i knew i had you when
i asked you to take me home,
and **** me.
you’ll say that
i didn’t have you,
until i was standing
in your living room,
near naked
and
bound,
but the truth is, baby,
i’ve had you for so much longer,
and
you know it.
Dec 14, 2015
Dec 14, 2015 at 7:13 AM UTC
and it's not fair.
this burning desire to keep myself from getting hurt,
is just getting in the way.
Oct 28, 2014
Oct 28, 2014 at 4:29 AM UTC
I feel like you often fall in love.
and I'm just the same curves, mapped out in a slightly different way.
you know my body like a town you spent your summers in when you were young,
old buildings may have been demolished,
replaced by new buildings,
but it's still the same old place,
that you've been so many times before.
how am I different from the others?
besides the color of my hair,
or the markings on my skin.
because, to you, I don't feel different.
I don't feel special,
and I don't feel like your one and only,
just one of the many.
Oct 28, 2014
Oct 28, 2014 at 4:26 AM UTC
2:03am Monday morning,
and I'm sitting here, writing ******* poetry about you,
because you'll give me tiny glimpses of your soul,
and happily fill every my orifice.
but you won't give me anything more than that.
Aug 3, 2014
Aug 3, 2014 at 12:12 PM UTC
**** you,
we're going to spend so long ******* around that by the time you actually decide that you want something from me,
I will have found someone else.
I need to find someone else.
who won't
say one thing,
and do the other.
who is exactly my type,
and is nothing like you.
Aug 3, 2014
Aug 3, 2014 at 12:00 PM UTC