lauren-rWhisper

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2 Lovers, Both GodsI have been a lot of things to a lot of people. I have been the friend. The crush. The savior. The enemy. The surrogate mother to hope. I have been the makeshift medic, twice I have been the future wife. I have lived through experiences that make me broken and cracking, beautiful and shining all at the same ******* time and it is so hard to put it in perspective. / The fragile, the broken, the beautiful, the incomprehensible, the incredible: It is all mine and I am in love with all of it.
2
Apr 19, 2016
3 amI feel the softly fluttering wings of my heart, like the singing birds of cold mornings where footsteps are as soft as ghostly snowfall. Your face buried in my shoulder, your breath turns my skin into warm velvet. Your hands bloom petals of warmth into mine where shaking stops and finds purpose in my arms. / I think "Okay, this is hopeless." just to find a new context to lie to myself in. I'll try to deny it for days, but it really becomes hours. / "Love is a neurochemical con-job," I think in intervals with your breaths. Your favorite song plays in the background, swept away into the wind and towards the moon smiling down on us saying, "I've seen this billions of times before. Just admit it."
4
Jun 5, 2017
80Crack, across your cheek / I feel my bones strain and weep / Curdled like milk in the summer's heat
5
Oct 25, 2016
A Colder Type of WeatherHow do I speak up for myself / when every man I meet / pulls out my teeth?
12
Jul 27, 2016
A Collective ExperienceDay 1: You're always shaking, you're like the grass under the whirring blades of a lawnmower. I laugh at that. You're so funny when you can't breathe. You're so funny with your scars, hidden beneath sleeves like white soldier grave stones, underneath a blanket of shaking grass, tall grass, dead grass, laughing grass, long forgotten names. Like, like, firing squad death row under sheets of blood- no- fallen brick walls. Civilians, awaiting rescue. You tug at your shirt awkwardly, I am staring. / Day 6: What are you asking me now? What? Them? No, they don't hate you. The stars with molars, canines, and needles out their sides don't at least. You're asking me about the fish? Scales, fins, aquatic? The star fish with self-esteem issues doesn't mind you. He's just selfish. The narcissistic parrot fish loves you as much as her own reflection. The high strung cat fish is kinda infatuated. He's something else. The shark? She thinks you're **** but don't tell her I said that. You won't? You never do. I like that about you. / Day 23: You been okay? You haven't been asking much about me lately. Me? Funny you should ask. I'm not sick. Not now. Haven't tried to bash my skull in in a week, it's progress. You? Oh **** that's too bad. I wish you'd stop opening up your forearms. I wish you'd just stop popping pills like after Chinese food dinner mints, bursting them in your stomach to spread like fog, milky white to drown out whatever your drawing from your wrists.
6
Apr 18, 2016
A Day Late and a Sorry ShortI notice your absence like an open wound, / found stuck to my sheets after a rough / night's sleep.
5
Apr 21, 2016
Afterlife*Afterlife, oh my god, what an awful word.* / Tired of a life of crying off all my mascara, crying off the fragile wrapping paper of my eyelids, tired of my brain wringing itself for answers in the small hours of the morning. / No, you don't care. I look to the empty spot on my bed where you'd sit, head resting on my shoulder, laptop playing The Doors Movie in front of us. Our lost laughter floats through the air and gets tangled in my ceiling fan. The spot where you told me you loved me is covered by a trash can now. You don't bat an eye at where I used to sleep on your floor, throw my backpack. My twenty page birthday card to you is no longer propped up against all the robots you built as a kid. You don't sleep with the blanket I bought you for Christmas anymore.
9
Aug 30, 2016
A Month Without SleepI wake up this morning, it's been thirty days since we last spoke. My heart has aged more than that. / I turn to my right, sighing out slowly, feeling my ligaments creak and my bones moan, put on my glasses, and have to push away the thought of you a hundred times in those few seconds. I get up and wear something you'd hate. I cry in a way you'd hate. I love you in a way you'd hate. / I wonder where you are right now and if you care about where I am.
7
Sep 18, 2016
Another Brick in the Wall*I don't need no arms around me.* / I pretend I love anyone. I pretend to drool honey onto the paper-thin skin of things that barely breathe through their own lungs that they've smoked black and blue and filled with water and soot and **** I pretend to care for a moment, lighting a match on my teeth. / *I don't need no drugs to calm me.*
13
Oct 3, 2016
A RecipeThe part of my brain that absorbs every person I listen to / (I stash your body in the microwave) / The hour of the night that I finally breathe
8
Aug 20, 2016
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