It’s interesting how easily you can allow yourself to fade without a single person noticing.
They tell you, “Oh I love you!” one minute.
The next the only voices you hear are the whispering giggles of the ghosts all around you.
"I know when I’ll go," I tell them.
Their giggles increase as they circle the room.
"Oh? Do you now?" they mock.
"November 5th," I spit into the familiar darkness.
Their mocking increases.
They don’t trust that I’ll go through with it.
That I will honestly throw my soul from it’s cursed shell and allow them to devour it’s remains.
They think I’m too scared of where I’ll end up after I die.
Why should I be?
If I’m anywhere but here I’ll be content.
Sep 24, 2013
Sep 24, 2013 at 12:47 AM UTC
The day I finally figured out the reason you constantly reel me in without lifting a finger was the day that I knew there was nothing between us.
I figure you will never see me as anything more than a pretty face and an easy target where you can easily hit bullseye and walk away with a hefty reward.
No hard feelings. No strings attached.
Well, there was one string that you just didn’t seem to notice. It resembled a loose thread on your clothes. You didn’t care, but I couldn’t help but to tug away at it until all your clothes were destroyed and it was just you.
And once I saw you, naked and revealed, I knew there was nothing but bones in skin. There was no heart, and that string that I hoped and dreamed would lead to me, led to nothing.
Aug 13, 2013
Aug 13, 2013 at 10:17 PM UTC
I once knew a man
who married his highschool sweetheart.
He would meet me on the weekends
in a ***** hotel room.
When I'd arrive he'd be laying on the bed,
a cigarette in his mouth
and a bottle of whiskey in hand.
"She used to love me," he'd say. "Then she left."
Then he'd cough up a tired laugh.
Once he told me that I looked like her when she was young.
Tears littered his cheeks
as he recalled the love they shared.
"Now look where I am. I'm stuck here with a **********
That whole year I didn't know his name until last month
when he said, "John Adair."
I scribbled it down on my palm and never saw him again.
The next day I went looking for her.
I finally found her this day.
So here I sit on this cold New Years day
silence thick in the air as I stare at the grave of
Cynthia Adair.
Jun 19, 2013
Jun 19, 2013 at 6:57 PM UTC
she asked me if i was happy
i said no
i did not tell her of the scars i hid beneath my clothes
i did not tell her of the tears i wiped away at night
i did not tell her that death was something i desired
i could not tell her that
because she did not care
she was only curious
May 24, 2013
May 24, 2013 at 1:20 AM UTC
isnt it funny
how we tell others
"dont ever tell anyone to
**** themself"
and yet we turn our backs
we hide our tears
are emotions
our blood
and we yell at our souls
telling ourselves
**** yourself"
May 22, 2013
May 22, 2013 at 8:16 PM UTC
tell me at story
where
someone like me
has meaning
and isnt always so
alone
May 21, 2013
May 21, 2013 at 11:51 AM UTC
Those who tell someone to die
Are the ones that we should take into our arms
And hold
They are the ones we should
Search the eyes of
To find what they are really thinking and feeling
Because they are the ones
Who have lost their minds
And we the ones who want to die
Are the ones who are sane
The ones who see the world as it is
We are the only people who can help
Apr 30, 2013
Apr 30, 2013 at 10:38 PM UTC
She says, “I want to **** myself, I want to die.”
I calmly say, “Not tonight.”
A night later she says she’s okay with pain.
I say she has feelings she needs to contain.
I try to tell her that she’s perfect.
And if she’s told otherwise those people have the defect.
But my words never work.
To her I’m nothing but another ****
She tells me that no matter how close she gets she’s never there.
That no matter how she tries nobody cares.
Then what is that in the mirror I look into?
Am I the nobody that will never break through?
Are my words as empty as theirs?
Am I really invisible like air?
Because if that’s the truth I won’t try.
Because if that’s the truth I’ll be the one who dies.
Maybe if I died those words you say,
Wouldn’t come out of your mouth another day.
Oh but my mistake.
I seemed to have forgotten that I’m someone you forsake.
So even if I weren’t there.
You wouldn’t seem to care.
Apr 25, 2013
Apr 25, 2013 at 11:42 PM UTC
i think that if you'd let me
i'd treat you like the stars
connecting one to another
to search for
and to ponder at
i'd stare at you for
hours and
reach for you
always
i'd tell you
my secrets and
know they would be safe
i don't understand how you
see yourself
so poorly
because the things about yourself you
seem to hate
are a part of you
and i love you
therefore i love those parts too
Mar 29, 2013
Mar 29, 2013 at 3:12 AM UTC
why the frown
little girl
?
i thought you knew
that dreams are like
the stars
.
i thought you knew
that they fall from
the sky
.
Mar 17, 2013
Mar 17, 2013 at 9:38 PM UTC