martha-jordan - Hello Poetry

There are rules for you. You don't make stupid decisions. You don't take naps. You don't lie. Almost is such a ****** word. I hate it almost as much as I want to hate you, But we both know that I can't. You almost made me feel something. When you held me in your bed, Arms wrapped tight like you were scared of drowning And your heart almost beat for mine The center of my chest was still stone. And when you held me in that cold disgusting room Whispering that it was okay for me to be weak I smiled, a terrible, painful thing to witness And I almost believed you. You almost made me trust you. With your strong, capable hands gripping my jaw Forcing me to face you, to accept what you were saying And god **** it, I wanted to! I wanted to follow for once, I wanted to dance backwards in heels I wanted it more for myself than for you, And you ripped it from my hands And reminded me of who I truly am. You almost made me love you. You sat there, in my car You held my ear to your heart as I stammered and you told me I was yours, and you were mine, you were mine, and you lied! It doesn't matter if it's true, if I'm not allowed to have you, then why give me your heart? I'm so angry and hurt and confused and I'm burning up in a wildfire of rage that the ocean couldn't tame and God **** It! You lied. You broke the rules and we are both suffering the consequences and I'm ******* furious! I was willing to breach the steel caging of my heart for you and I moved too soon and I've ruined everything and you lied. You don't make stupid decisions. You don't take naps. But you do lie. And so did I. Beneath my eager smiles and delicate wrists and love bites and every inch of me your favorite color, I am a void, I am cold fire, I am stone. You almost made me whole. Almost.

0

Jul 23, 2015

Jul 23, 2015 at 3:30 AM UTC

Rules

There are rules for you. You don't make stupid decisions. You don't take naps. You don't lie. Almost is such a ****** word. I hate it almost as much as I want to hate you, But we both know that I can't. You almost made me feel something. When you held me in your bed, Arms wrapped tight like you were scared of drowning And your heart almost beat for mine The center of my chest was still stone. And when you held me in that cold disgusting room Whispering that it was okay for me to be weak I smiled, a terrible, painful thing to witness And I almost believed you. You almost made me trust you. With your strong, capable hands gripping my jaw Forcing me to face you, to accept what you were saying And god **** it, I wanted to! I wanted to follow for once, I wanted to dance backwards in heels I wanted it more for myself than for you, And you ripped it from my hands And reminded me of who I truly am. You almost made me love you. You sat there, in my car You held my ear to your heart as I stammered and you told me I was yours, and you were mine, you were mine, and you lied! It doesn't matter if it's true, if I'm not allowed to have you, then why give me your heart? I'm so angry and hurt and confused and I'm burning up in a wildfire of rage that the ocean couldn't tame and God **** It! You lied. You broke the rules and we are both suffering the consequences and I'm ******* furious! I was willing to breach the steel caging of my heart for you and I moved too soon and I've ruined everything and you lied. You don't make stupid decisions. You don't take naps. But you do lie. And so did I. Beneath my eager smiles and delicate wrists and love bites and every inch of me your favorite color, I am a void, I am cold fire, I am stone. You almost made me whole. Almost.

34

The muscles in my face Can they atrophy from lack of use? It seems that my heart has Not strong enough to feel Only to produce a beat. For the first time in years I long for my own bed Don't touch me. Don't look at me. It costs too much. The void left inside It's taken too much of me I've crumbled away And the tide leaves no trace. I am numb. I use my writing as a journal of sorts To catalogue my emotions At pivotal moments. But there is nothing to organize. I suppose This will be my last entry. What is the point?

0

Apr 18, 2015

Apr 18, 2015 at 9:34 AM UTC

Numb

The muscles in my face Can they atrophy from lack of use? It seems that my heart has Not strong enough to feel Only to produce a beat. For the first time in years I long for my own bed Don't touch me. Don't look at me. It costs too much. The void left inside It's taken too much of me I've crumbled away And the tide leaves no trace. I am numb. I use my writing as a journal of sorts To catalogue my emotions At pivotal moments. But there is nothing to organize. I suppose This will be my last entry. What is the point?

22

My chest feels like it's been carved out with a spoon. There's nothing left; no beating heart, no churning stomach, no fragile ribs or frantic lungs. Just a void where you used to reside. And I climbed a mountain to forget you. I picked out the debris from my diaphragm and from my palms as I dragged myself up what used to be communication, and now is just a monument to how ******* crazy people are. My feet slipped on red rocks and even though I was victorious, satisfaction did not fill the crater. We held our last communion, and I finally felt at peace. But wishing for all the happiness in the world curses someone else with just as much grief. God, do I hate myself for causing him grief. I thought that I hated myself, but now I know. There was no creature as foul as I, and there is no poison as strong as the one I make for myself. All I wanted was to make someone happy. All I wanted was to feel normal again. It's like you make my cheeks ache with smiles, and all I can do is twist knives in to your heart. You almost had me thinking that I was whole again. But I know. I know that as toxic as I am to myself, I am just as deadly to everyone else. I will destroy everyone I touch. Why can't I destroy myself first, before I cause anyone else such pain? Am I really so selfish? I know. I know that you love me. And I'm sorry that you do. I'm sorry for anyone who has been persuaded to love me. I can string lots of pretty words together. But it doesn't matter. Nothing matters. I managed to feel, with your help. There's something residing in that cavern that used to house my heart. A throbbing ache that taints my blood and freezes my bones. It's probably not what you wanted me to feel. But it's almost a comfort. I understand this pain. I understand trapping it inside of me, and shutting you out so that you don't get caught in the fall out. I know you don't want to be shut out. But I am selfish. And this pain is mine alone.

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Dec 19, 2014

Dec 19, 2014 at 1:00 AM UTC

Christmas lights.

My chest feels like it's been carved out with a spoon. There's nothing left; no beating heart, no churning stomach, no fragile ribs or frantic lungs. Just a void where you used to reside. And I climbed a mountain to forget you. I picked out the debris from my diaphragm and from my palms as I dragged myself up what used to be communication, and now is just a monument to how ******* crazy people are. My feet slipped on red rocks and even though I was victorious, satisfaction did not fill the crater. We held our last communion, and I finally felt at peace. But wishing for all the happiness in the world curses someone else with just as much grief. God, do I hate myself for causing him grief. I thought that I hated myself, but now I know. There was no creature as foul as I, and there is no poison as strong as the one I make for myself. All I wanted was to make someone happy. All I wanted was to feel normal again. It's like you make my cheeks ache with smiles, and all I can do is twist knives in to your heart. You almost had me thinking that I was whole again. But I know. I know that as toxic as I am to myself, I am just as deadly to everyone else. I will destroy everyone I touch. Why can't I destroy myself first, before I cause anyone else such pain? Am I really so selfish? I know. I know that you love me. And I'm sorry that you do. I'm sorry for anyone who has been persuaded to love me. I can string lots of pretty words together. But it doesn't matter. Nothing matters. I managed to feel, with your help. There's something residing in that cavern that used to house my heart. A throbbing ache that taints my blood and freezes my bones. It's probably not what you wanted me to feel. But it's almost a comfort. I understand this pain. I understand trapping it inside of me, and shutting you out so that you don't get caught in the fall out. I know you don't want to be shut out. But I am selfish. And this pain is mine alone.

11

Sometimes I have to remind myself That as close as I live to the mountain's majesty I am not made of stone. Despite the sands of time that collect under my eyes, dragging down into a landslide of bruises Regardless of how cold and hard my hands feel as they guide warm flesh towards hidden despair There is still blood in my veins, channeling through a heart heavy as the earth they poured over an early grave My very bones erode with their own weight The gravel in my wrists is agonizingly brittle You said I have such large, pretty eyes but I fear these petrified jungles are threatening to drown me and the monsoon provides no relief I've an avalanche of grief that promises rest My cradle or my grave or both.

0

Nov 20, 2014

Nov 20, 2014 at 4:13 PM UTC

Under Pressure

Sometimes I have to remind myself That as close as I live to the mountain's majesty I am not made of stone. Despite the sands of time that collect under my eyes, dragging down into a landslide of bruises Regardless of how cold and hard my hands feel as they guide warm flesh towards hidden despair There is still blood in my veins, channeling through a heart heavy as the earth they poured over an early grave My very bones erode with their own weight The gravel in my wrists is agonizingly brittle You said I have such large, pretty eyes but I fear these petrified jungles are threatening to drown me and the monsoon provides no relief I've an avalanche of grief that promises rest My cradle or my grave or both.

21

I have some very destructive tendencies I'm a bad judge of character Whether the the character is my own or not Begs to be determined. I tried the pretty, pleasant method Of letting the venom from my veins But these emotions have succeeded in their task Of rotting me from the inside out. The floor embraced my pen And my ears were lovingly teased I tried to fall into the high from my headset But your passion did not sate me. Elemental damage was never my strong suit As prone as we are to wildfires You'd think the liquid cauterizing me Would hurt less than these god **** thoughts. And tonight the truth made its way to me My shadow understands; his love is pure I'm a cruel, witless ***** a scourge in my own right But he still dries my tears. I can't even pretend I'm not hurt So I'm voiding my lungs tonight Peppered smoke promises relief But I'm soon discerning the lie. We are back to square one but All the pop music these days is too melancholy I've had altitude sickness before, But this time it's different. And I smile, a painful thing that I'm glad there's no evidence of I told you these things are rare, like you This inspiration at the cost of my heart But this is my salvation When you move from prose to poetry That's when I'm done with you. My habits die hard But unlike you, the feelings, the talent, the slow agonizing death by fire, the bad character are all mine.

0

Nov 17, 2014

Nov 17, 2014 at 7:49 PM UTC

Flowing

I have some very destructive tendencies I'm a bad judge of character Whether the the character is my own or not Begs to be determined. I tried the pretty, pleasant method Of letting the venom from my veins But these emotions have succeeded in their task Of rotting me from the inside out. The floor embraced my pen And my ears were lovingly teased I tried to fall into the high from my headset But your passion did not sate me. Elemental damage was never my strong suit As prone as we are to wildfires You'd think the liquid cauterizing me Would hurt less than these god **** thoughts. And tonight the truth made its way to me My shadow understands; his love is pure I'm a cruel, witless ***** a scourge in my own right But he still dries my tears. I can't even pretend I'm not hurt So I'm voiding my lungs tonight Peppered smoke promises relief But I'm soon discerning the lie. We are back to square one but All the pop music these days is too melancholy I've had altitude sickness before, But this time it's different. And I smile, a painful thing that I'm glad there's no evidence of I told you these things are rare, like you This inspiration at the cost of my heart But this is my salvation When you move from prose to poetry That's when I'm done with you. My habits die hard But unlike you, the feelings, the talent, the slow agonizing death by fire, the bad character are all mine.

40

Catalyst for change; a long dormant dream that wills its way into a nonexistent reality Rend your bonds; with all the strength in your calloused hands that used to mold with mine Yearning for freedom; from fear, from pain, from the crystalline core that shreds your lungs every time you breathe and scatters diamond dust down your veins Sinking too fast; **** the natural death that weighs you down and drags you through an ocean of tears Take your time; the gaping hollow in your chest should not become a magpie’s hovel, filled with a glittering assortment of the finest refuse Argumentative at best; facing a broken mirror and finding the barrel of a gun Languish is for the weak; your hands are claws and your teeth are knives. Cut the diamonds from your veins and spill yourself on the world.

0

Nov 13, 2014

Nov 13, 2014 at 5:05 PM UTC

Crystal

Catalyst for change; a long dormant dream that wills its way into a nonexistent reality Rend your bonds; with all the strength in your calloused hands that used to mold with mine Yearning for freedom; from fear, from pain, from the crystalline core that shreds your lungs every time you breathe and scatters diamond dust down your veins Sinking too fast; **** the natural death that weighs you down and drags you through an ocean of tears Take your time; the gaping hollow in your chest should not become a magpie’s hovel, filled with a glittering assortment of the finest refuse Argumentative at best; facing a broken mirror and finding the barrel of a gun Languish is for the weak; your hands are claws and your teeth are knives. Cut the diamonds from your veins and spill yourself on the world.

7

I've got a lot on my plate these days. I glance around, find an empty booth, and slide in. I hate my job. The owner, an older Chinese man, smiles and brings water and a menu. Money is tight, it's always tight. Mongolian beef today, I think. I have no passion for life, my dreams just confusing mashups of the past. Wonton soup like always, the fried strips melting into the broth. My friends are gone, lost to time and distance and I feel so alone. The owner brings me a gorgeous looking plate full of food, I thank him. The love of my life finds more excitement in his computer than in me. Tender beef, saucy peppers, perfectly steamed rice. I search books for romance, fiction won't tell your secrets or get jealous. Half the meal goes in a box for later. My bed is as cold as my heart, no sleep will deter my exhaustion. An almond cookie makes the check easier to pay. Maybe I should be on medication. Maybe I should break up with my boyfriend. Maybe I should cut my hair. Maybe I should stop eating. Maybe I should move back home. I pay at the counter and thank the man for an excellent meal as always. I tuck my credit card into my wallet, my feelings into the deepest part of my mind so that I can make it another day without falling apart. At least I have enough leftovers for dinner.

0

Feb 2, 2014

Feb 2, 2014 at 2:42 AM UTC

Overseas 101

I've got a lot on my plate these days. I glance around, find an empty booth, and slide in. I hate my job. The owner, an older Chinese man, smiles and brings water and a menu. Money is tight, it's always tight. Mongolian beef today, I think. I have no passion for life, my dreams just confusing mashups of the past. Wonton soup like always, the fried strips melting into the broth. My friends are gone, lost to time and distance and I feel so alone. The owner brings me a gorgeous looking plate full of food, I thank him. The love of my life finds more excitement in his computer than in me. Tender beef, saucy peppers, perfectly steamed rice. I search books for romance, fiction won't tell your secrets or get jealous. Half the meal goes in a box for later. My bed is as cold as my heart, no sleep will deter my exhaustion. An almond cookie makes the check easier to pay. Maybe I should be on medication. Maybe I should break up with my boyfriend. Maybe I should cut my hair. Maybe I should stop eating. Maybe I should move back home. I pay at the counter and thank the man for an excellent meal as always. I tuck my credit card into my wallet, my feelings into the deepest part of my mind so that I can make it another day without falling apart. At least I have enough leftovers for dinner.

20

She isn't beautiful. She already knew this, but the truth still hurts. She faces the wall and her body speaks. "It's alright," says her heart, as her shoulders shake with the rhythm of sobs. Her small hands grasp her arms in comfort. An icy, throbbing pain seeps through her limbs and down to her toes; she draws her knees to her chest like a shield, no, like a wall. A wall to keep the fury and the grief and the humiliation inside, from soaking her bed and waking her ignorant lover. "I still love you," says her body. Her uneven ******* rise with her shallow gasps, her marred skin warms her frozen soul, her graceless legs protect her and her body loves her, loves her even if he doesnt. Even if he doesn't see her for anything but her faults, her body loves her. It is hers and hers alone and no one else will love her like she loves herself. "You're very pretty," says her brain, but it is of no comfort to her, only a reassurance that she will never be desired like a fairy tale princess, never mistaken for an angel. No wars would be fought over her, no dances ever asked of her. No matter the pain or the paint or the tears or the tries. She isn't beautiful. She already knew this.

0

Jun 5, 2013

Jun 5, 2013 at 3:12 AM UTC

Self esteem.

She isn't beautiful. She already knew this, but the truth still hurts. She faces the wall and her body speaks. "It's alright," says her heart, as her shoulders shake with the rhythm of sobs. Her small hands grasp her arms in comfort. An icy, throbbing pain seeps through her limbs and down to her toes; she draws her knees to her chest like a shield, no, like a wall. A wall to keep the fury and the grief and the humiliation inside, from soaking her bed and waking her ignorant lover. "I still love you," says her body. Her uneven ******* rise with her shallow gasps, her marred skin warms her frozen soul, her graceless legs protect her and her body loves her, loves her even if he doesnt. Even if he doesn't see her for anything but her faults, her body loves her. It is hers and hers alone and no one else will love her like she loves herself. "You're very pretty," says her brain, but it is of no comfort to her, only a reassurance that she will never be desired like a fairy tale princess, never mistaken for an angel. No wars would be fought over her, no dances ever asked of her. No matter the pain or the paint or the tears or the tries. She isn't beautiful. She already knew this.

8

Blood is thicker than water I've heard that one before And no matter how many times it's proven true I refuse to remember. Painful memories gather I've played this game before The feeling swells in my chest like a tidal wave And forces me under. Distance makes the heart grow fonder I've lived this pain before My brain goes fuzzy and the scars mesh and blend in It's a grateful surrender This new wound feels so tender I've staked this claim before Quick work will keep the mess in my heart together No time to regret, dear. Through the watery twister I've not felt this before My wandering spirit finds its welcoming niche Unprotected no longer. Although the light falters I was alone before These treacherous oceans can not drown me out now I have found shelter.

0

Apr 1, 2013

Apr 1, 2013 at 12:55 AM UTC

Viscosity

Blood is thicker than water I've heard that one before And no matter how many times it's proven true I refuse to remember. Painful memories gather I've played this game before The feeling swells in my chest like a tidal wave And forces me under. Distance makes the heart grow fonder I've lived this pain before My brain goes fuzzy and the scars mesh and blend in It's a grateful surrender This new wound feels so tender I've staked this claim before Quick work will keep the mess in my heart together No time to regret, dear. Through the watery twister I've not felt this before My wandering spirit finds its welcoming niche Unprotected no longer. Although the light falters I was alone before These treacherous oceans can not drown me out now I have found shelter.

24

The room was cold No traces of warmth Awake in my bed I shivered. There was no night Only Time so bold Passing observed and With vengeance. There was no fire Of whispered love Heat from routine vows To sooth me. Only the frost Of hollow words, filled With the worst poison Apathy. There is no sun Strong enough to melt Your ice in my heart Back to sleep.

0

Mar 25, 2013

Mar 25, 2013 at 3:22 PM UTC

Monday Mourning

The room was cold No traces of warmth Awake in my bed I shivered. There was no night Only Time so bold Passing observed and With vengeance. There was no fire Of whispered love Heat from routine vows To sooth me. Only the frost Of hollow words, filled With the worst poison Apathy. There is no sun Strong enough to melt Your ice in my heart Back to sleep.

20