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elizabeth-31
elizabeth-31
27/F/Florida Pouring your heart out to strangers hurts far less.
So, there was this time we were lying on your bed, you looked at me like forever and I sighed in contentment as you pulled me closer. "You know, I can't climb into your body." You laughed, "Why not?" I burrowed you squeezed harder. The next day, I went out for my morning smoke, I looked back and smiled as I sauntered through the door, laughing at my ridiculousness, you gave me the same look you always do. Should have been the first clue, you wanted to tame my wild. God as a guise, you tried to mold me into your version of myself, hoping you'd be able to love me enough. While you were holed up peering down at the cells running around your petri dish, you missed the lesson about letting wild things be free. Well, I'm jumping out and if you think I will die then, honey, let it be where I am free.
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Feb 2, 2021
Feb 2, 2021 at 9:54 PM UTC
Untitled
A million words inside will never be known to the world like the million inside you. All seven billion with our own million tumbling around our cement truck brains turning and turning but, never spilling out the cement stuck inside. Yet, here I am asking to know your words. And hoping, you want my mouth to form the shapes and my vocal cords to work out the sound waves so that we can know all of each other.
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Sep 8, 2018
Sep 8, 2018 at 7:19 PM UTC
Cement Brains
A million words inside my head will never be known to the world just like the million words inside you. All seven billion of us are full of our own million, tumbling around our cement truck brains turning and turning and turning but, never spilling out the cement stuck inside. And yet, here I am asking to know your words. Hoping, you want my words too. Hoping, you want my mouth to form the shapes and my vocal cords to work out the sound waves so that we can know each other.
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Sep 8, 2018
Sep 8, 2018 at 6:58 PM UTC
Cement Brains
So here it goes again the little boy whose life was never his and the woman whose life was always hers.
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Jun 28, 2018
Jun 28, 2018 at 6:27 AM UTC
Ryan
I am a slow motion fall deeper into fear. The electric green of my personality shocks, yet how I take form in the shape of an X. Close in on myself, sweat with anticipation. I am the number 17 an insignificant flash, like a strobe light in your mind. Rough like tree bark I am a brick wall. I swim into my red veins deep within my black mind. Lost- I can’t see Even with my eyes open. I feel around the rough sandpaper edges searching for an embrace. Breaking glass sounds I come apart.
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Jun 23, 2018
Jun 23, 2018 at 3:33 AM UTC
Untitled
I breathe you in like a morning Cigarette. Trying to remember all I must forget; Touching my cheek as I’m crying because a piece of my soul is… Funny how love burns like those Early morning drags. The red line recedes with each new pull all good things come
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Jun 21, 2018
Jun 21, 2018 at 3:31 AM UTC
Morning Burn
I breathe you in like a morning cigarette. Trying to remember all the things I need to forget. Caresses on my cheek when I’m crying because a little piece of my soul is… dying. Funny how love burns our lungs, like those early morning drags, and makes us think in clichés as we burn down the **** Watching the little red line getting closer to the end, while thinking how all good things come to an, well, you get the picture while I’m sinking and drowning myself in those things I need to forget, with each morning cigarette.
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Jun 13, 2018
Jun 13, 2018 at 12:28 PM UTC
Morning Burn
The covers cried out as I break free of their greedy, jealous grasp. First small victory… I’m supposed to count those you know? To remind myself to keep moving. I still cut out my heart today and sat it on the kitchen table. The knife smiled at me, small victory for it I guess. I felt the air slaloming between my ribs on its way to my spine, where it grabbed hold. Cold, unforgiving. I should be used to the cold, it’s the same every today. My needle pierces the scars as I sew the thick flesh back in place, to keep the cold out, of course. Reminding me of the days the victories weren’t enough. I stand and put on my sweater, grab the heart, and throw it in the trash on my way to the covers to ask their forgiveness for thinking I would be strong enough today. The victories can wait until tomorrow after all.
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Jun 11, 2018
Jun 11, 2018 at 12:06 AM UTC
Small Victories