*I've read so much sad poetry that
The skin around my eyes has turned
Blue with betrayal
because I felt so much emotion but
I couldn't even write a word.*
Sep 6, 2015
Sep 6, 2015 at 2:59 AM UTC
All the leaves now red in color
Compliment the brown of others
Falling to the ground in haste
A twist of warming cinnamon taste
Candles burn inside closed doors
As the rain outside comes down (it pours)
The smell of pumpkin fills the air
As the bears return to their yearly lair
The cold of winter air it lingers
Chilling toes and bones and fingers
Jackets are still getting thicker
As the candles burning begin to flicker
As the hours fade from November days
The birds fly south in search of rays
I can’t join birds in their southern flight
I have to bear the autumn nights
I must learn to survive, this I know
As the reddened leaves turn into snow.
Sep 6, 2015
Sep 6, 2015 at 2:52 AM UTC
A total betrayal of human ethics
a twisted love story gone wrong
the tingling of muscles in jaws in foreheads
and the painful bite of a poisonous snarl.
The stinging burn of words unspoken
the aching cramps of truth betrayed
the daggers that your eyes released
as salty sweat drips down your face.
An animal inside awoken
as dangerous words slipped past your lips
the fighter in me set off
energy in my fingertips.
The barbaric side of me came out
my muscles tensed and strained
I felt my hand crack on your face
A movement foreign and untamed
You stared at me and bared your teeth
and growled, a sound of death
“do it again” you said with venom
as you took a step, I felt your breath.
Once again my brain had failed
and let my body decide
and I felt your head snap to the right
my hand felt like raw hide.
My left hand smoldered with the force
and I put it to my mouth
the hand that once had held your face
had ended us no doubt.
Sep 4, 2015
Sep 4, 2015 at 12:39 AM UTC
The river in my head is a rapid
now, all of this flows in my mind
and I see it flowing faster and faster
in the reflection of the eyes of the teacher
who's face is only inches from mine
as she says,
"Where is the homework thats due today?"
all disappointed head shaking
as the rest of the high school class waits.
Waits
as the ink
beneath my short sleeves,
white collar shirt and skirt
begins to….. burn.
Waits
as my hyperactive ADD branded brain
begins to boil.
Waits as I keep back the bile
and get all choked up on
the prozac and concerta
that have been planted in my throat
But i keep it down and say,
"I forgot it."
Honestly,
I feel bad about this.
I want to tell her I'm sorry.
I'm sorry that after twelve years of learning,
the one thing I haven't picked up on
is how to turn in a freaking homework assignment.
I'm sorry that my head is a broken system
Whose puzzle pieces never learned how to fit themselves together properly
I forgot that it's a crime to not know theorem 6.2 or
what kind of satire Aristophanes used but I think it's
IRONIC that we're supposed to take this work with open arms
and look, I'm being honest when I say I can't remember all the nine muses names but believe me Erato will tell you that I can write one hell of a love poem.
But that doesn’t matter here, no.
because all that mattered was that in third grade
I could never remember my times tables
as if being dipped in the river lethe made you any less of a person
as if the kids who were telling me I was dumb thought I needed confirmation
I’m trying to pull out the lessons we learned at carpet time like
2, 4, 6, 8…?
no one could appreciate that I was trying,
everything would just get swept away
leaving me bone dry and forgotten.
Nov 23, 2014
Nov 23, 2014 at 8:26 PM UTC
the thing that scares me the most about being in love with you
is that as the more hours for us to be together are ripped from our hands by the hectic schedules we've set ourselves
the more I crave the feeling of your lips against mine and your arms around me.
In the hours that you are unavailable,
I want to hear your voice,
your every thought,
and the pattern of your heartbeat.
You have no idea how much that scares me.
I wish that I could spend hours listening to you talk
In the many hours between our goodbyes
and when my heart finally stops fluttering from the thought of you,
I go over scenarios in my head of me and you together.
I see nights out,
nights in,
fights,
making up,
making out,
and everything in between.
It's during these hours of darkness that my heart wants you so bad
that I find myself gasping for air
and clutching my chest.
You have no idea how much that scares me.
I remember all the times your lips touched mine,
and how warm they were.
I try to count on my fingers how many times you've said
"I love you," but I only have 10 fingers
and I can't hold in just two hands the number of "I love you too's" that I've said back.
There's a word in german
"Sehnsucht"
which is the inconsolable longing for something
or a high degree of intense
reoccurring
often painful
desire for something unknown.
For so long my insides screamed for something
but I could never put my finger on it.
I've discovered the unknown
the key to my longing
the end to the pain
and that,
my love,
is you.
Jan 27, 2014
Jan 27, 2014 at 10:03 PM UTC
One reason I knew we'd never last is even after a year in juxtaposition, our sentences never began to resemble one another. I could never get lost in the cadence of your vocabulary, because it all sounded dissonant to me. The way the words **** and **** couldn't flow from your lips as easily as they could from mine caused discomfort in the succession of my words. It was if a dam was holding back the waterfall of words and ideas kept in my head, and leakage or splinters in this dam caused an outburst of lividity or tears that couldn't be stopped by words or kisses. When two people are apart, the only thing they have between them is words, so the lack of freedom of speech is the biggest defect.
Dec 27, 2013
Dec 27, 2013 at 6:01 PM UTC
The first time Love came
I called it
Although Love was my best friend
And Love was just in the friend zone
I knew there was something special
About the way he said hello
It was like a gift
Like every time he said the word
He would make sure it was wrapped perfectly
And would fit snugly around my heart like a hug.
Love had never fallen for anyone before
And neither had I
So Love had no limits to the stories he could tell me
And neither did I.
Love had songs he liked to show me
Lyrics that reminded him of me
The songs he sang while dancing around the room
After a night out.
Love and I had secrets
The things we only whispered in the dark
While we were up till 4 on a Monday morning
Both of us refusing to hang up on the magic.
We had secrets we only shared with our hands
Morse code systems of squeezing and touching that became a dance we both memorized.
Love taught me things about myself I never knew before
He opened my eyes to a world that was no longer mine but ours
He showed me that treating myself right wasn't as hard as I thought it was
And that I was more important than I told people I was
And I could never repay Love for that.
Love had people he wanted me to meet
Places he wanted me to see
Things he wanted to show me
But we never had quite enough time.
Love came quickly
Stayed for
1 year
A week and 6 days
And 12 hours.
Love left
In 2 hours
27 minutes
And 16 seconds
Ending
With nothing more
than a mean remark
a few tears
3 beeps and a black screen.
The second time Love came
I didn't want him to
Love was one of my best friends
And was staying in the friend zone.
What I didn't realize
is that Love came exactly when I needed him to
He came with soft hands
A strong chest
A big heart
and enough room in his heart to fix my broken soul.
There was nothing special about the way Love said hello
But the first time he said my name
Like really said it
in the back of a cab with the city lights blurring all around me
a psychedelic splatter paint of the feelings that swelled in my chest
He treated it like an artifact
Like the slightest crack of the voice could destroy it altogether.
Love was broken from people in the past
Love wasn't treated well
Love had stories that he didn't like to tell
Because opening his mouth to me would feel like betrayal
And there were some things he still cherished.
Love had songs that he skipped over or muted
The songs that reminded him of her
The songs that he played while crying in his room
The day she broke his heart.
Love and I had secrets
but he didn't like staying up past 10:30
so we played with them in broad daylight
bravely daring chance and discovery to tear us apart.
Love wrote long messages
telling me the things he liked about me
Love used the three big words a little too soon
but that was alright
because I spent the hours after he fell asleep reciting them in my head.
Love turned out to be someone I felt the most safe around
like he was the rock in the wild hurricane of my ******* wacked out life
like the roots that kept me tied to the ground
with a gentle hand laced in mine.
Love tells me things that no one ever has
like that he believes in me
and that no one should hate me
he's built me up from the ground and I can never repay him for that.
Love came quickly
out of nowhere
unexpected
but Love should stick around
because I promise to make it last
to make it long
and make it count.
Dec 18, 2013
Dec 18, 2013 at 3:58 AM UTC
*Before reading this I want people to know that I have never been *****
I got the inspiration for this poem from a post on tumblr.
One
After the first time he put his hands on her
she never thought she'd be able to escape the grasp of the feeling
she stayed up till 3:41 in the morning in the bathtub
sitting in the scalding water
trying to burn the dirt from her skin.
she sat there until the water turned cold
and she had not one tear left to cry
and until her skin was rubbed raw and bleeding.
she counted the bruises on her body
9 on her stomach
1 on her face
1 on her neck
a yellow and purple necklace around her collar
from the telephone wire he abused
from the telephone she didn't dare use
even after he finished manipulating her.
she scrubbed his fingers from her hair
but decided cutting it off would be easier
she washed his yelling voice from her ears
but found that screaming made him quieter
she scraped his taste from her lips
a dry martini
a cigarette
and someones tears from the past.
she couldn't scrub her wrists hard enough
to erase the feeling of the ropes he had her anchored with
so instead she sliced the flesh of where the imprint lay
attempting to release the strain from the burn marks on her skin.
Two
That same morning when she almost bled out
she checked herself into a hospital.
They sewed up the crimson bracelets she made
trapping inside of her wrists
each scream he muffled
with every new stitch.
she guessed they figured out what happened
whether it was the bruises
or the way her speech sounded like morse code but
they told her the police were informed
and that they'd do everything in their power to find monster
who opened the door to her own personal hell.
When the sketch artist asked her to describe him
she told her he was a photocopy
the regular John Doe
medium hight
brown hair brown eyes
nothing special or unique that would make a girl cross to the other side of the street
just like she said she should have done.
When they told her she needed to be inspected
she didn't even flinch
that seemed to be the only thing that people did these days
was inspect one another for an outcome that they'll be paid for
in paychecks or pleasure.
They stripped her down
apologizing for the cold
they took pictures
apologizing for the flash
they held her hand
apologizing for the feeling
but why apologize if he already imprinted it on her body
there's no going back from this
she will never be able to look at a man the same way again
she will always see cold hard hands on her shoulders
even at the warmest touch
she will only see flashes of his lips forced onto hers
when she receives the smallest peck
she will never be able to feel anything but a mattress beneath her back
rope around her wrists
and a freezing cold emptiness inside of her stomach.
Three
After the second time he put his hands on her
she stayed up all night in the freezing cold water
not even trying to remove his mark from her.
she figured that if the dirt beneath his fingernails were still there the second time
the dirt would still be on her too.
she let the filth engulf her
telling herself that all she was was dirt anyway
and as she lay with her head underwater
she screamed as loud as she could
for as long as she could
until her face was red
her voice was scratchy
till the veins in her neck pulsed
and when she finally sat up she was deafened by a deep silence
with no more sound than rippling water and the ticking of the clock.
That's when she realized that no matter how loud she screamed
she would never be heard amongst other peoples silences.
silences full of beeping cars and TV commercials
buzzing air conditioners and clinking plates
quite whispers and loud laughs
full of family and friends and the whole world spinning around them.
she would never matter to anyone
no brakes would squeal at the sound of her desperation
no ears would turn to decipher the morse code she mustered shakily from her lips
no one would ever care that her screams for help were muffled
and no one would have a hole in their stomach if she disappeared.
at this thought
she slipped deeper into the tub
unwraps the bandages from around both her wrists
uncovering scars that would never heal.
She explored the wounds with her fingers
and saw how weak the stitching was
like the nurse who repaired her found it pointless
and attempted it half heartedly.
She discovered that pulling the dark material that was woven through her flesh
would release her blood
like opening a door to another universe.
the purple would quickly turn to red
drop slowly into the tub
creating a water color painting of the war inside her head.
She pinched the strings holding the two parts of her together
********* their rough surface
she began to feel tired
dreaming of a happier place
of a happier her
of feeling like a person again.
she pinched the string
and pulled.
hard.
Dec 15, 2013
Dec 15, 2013 at 3:43 AM UTC
The moment he rejected you the first time
I saw a little part of you break
like the icicles in your eyes were melted with a self destructive hate fire
burning dangerously with the unrequited desire
for his love.
I want to tell you you're perfect.
On the times he moved closer to you at the lunch table
I saw the way your body stiffened
I could see the mental checklist being ticked
making sure you had the grocery list of the things that you wanted
the things you thought he needed.
I want to tell you you're perfect.
He fluttered your heart with his smile
making you realize that this spell he put you under isn't temporary
no matter how many times he knocks you down
you'll always go back for more.
I want to tell you you don't need him.
Where other girls want to undress him with their eyes
to see the chiseled swimmers body armor created from
years of waking up before sunlight
all you want is to strip the armor from his skin
to see if what lies underneath the charm
is really as soft and sweet as it is in your dreams.
I want to tell you he doesn't matter.
The day he asked out another girl in front of you
you tell me you need a friend
you say you don't even know how to stop crying
you say it hurt so bad
choking back tears is causing you to choke out that it's killing you
and it just kills me when you say that you feel so pointless
but you're infinitely perfect to me
so I make sure that you know how pointless he is too
and that if he can't even see through his glasses to realize how beautiful you are
then he might as well be as blind as a bat.
I want to tell you you're perfect.
even though you say your importance can be rationed out in teaspoons
I tell you that no amount of measuring cups could ever measure how much you mean to me
I want to tell you that your shine is like the one light in powerless city
gifting those in the dark with the wonders of your intelligence
and with the beauty of the way in which you look at the world
I want you to know that you're perfect.
I want to tell you I'm sorry.
I'm sorry for not noticing all the times that your lip was white beneath your teeth
or the way your eyes stung from the acidity of rejection
causing tears to form around the red insides of your eyelids
I'm sorry I wasn't there to wipe those tears off your face like I always promised I'd be.
I'm sorry for the time that you had to ask for me to listen
because the invisible rules written by love
in the book of friendship in my mind
say that you shouldn't have to ask for me to uncover my ears
they should always be open
and so should my arms
because that's what friends are for.
I want to tell you you're perfect.
I want to tell you I'm sorry.
I want you to know that putting layers of make up on your face
makes him fall in love with a copy of every unoriginal
girl he's ever dated but you
my friend
you are not a copy
you are not unoriginal
you are a story
you are amazing
and you should never let your self feel like any less.
Dec 13, 2013
Dec 13, 2013 at 8:50 AM UTC