"I'm sick of pretending that you're not killing me. That I don't feel the ghost of your lips lingering on my skin. I'm sick of wearing you like a cologne and trying to cover you up with my coffee and my cigarette breaks. And I'm tired of pretending like I don't see you on the streets. Always calling out to me, telling me you are home. Telling me you are safety and comfort and a bed not made of ice.
I'm sick of not being able to sleep anymore. Pretending that I'm not scared to close my eyes because I might not open them again. That I might not want to."
-Nathaniel MarkHim (-V)
/If sadness was a person, what would you say?
Jul 17, 2017
Jul 17, 2017 at 8:20 AM UTC
"Do you ever get tired of it? That roller coaster love of yours I mean. Do you pray that maybe, just maybe it would end? Does it keep you up till 2AM thinking about the broken dreams and broken beds on a Tuesday afternoon? Maybe you love it. That roller coaster love of yours I mean. Maybe you love the bite marks on your neck and fists on her jaw and the cigarette burns she gave around your neck. Maybe it’s chained you to her. And maybe you don’t want to go because you’ve forgotten how it felt without this. That roller coaster love of yours I mean."
-V
Jun 27, 2017
Jun 27, 2017 at 6:47 AM UTC
“You’re afraid that when the lights go off the darkness will swallow you whole so you try to make your mark in the world. Desperately hoping someone sees you and you get your fairytale love the movies all promise. And you’re gone so far out you’ve forgotten that you can’t swim and now you’re left drowning in a sea of bodies that smell of aftershave and way too many cigarette breaks.”
/hint: you are long drives and even longer hair and a smile that can light up the world **
May 10, 2017
May 10, 2017 at 10:05 PM UTC
Oh baby, what have you done? You were a body filled with forest fires and I was always afraid of the cold. Oh how your lips placed cigarette burns on my chest and oh how they kept me warm all through the night. Oh baby, your kisses were like ***** and it burned my throat on its way down. Your matchstick hands would find my paper skin and we’d light up like the 4th of July.
Oh baby, how we lit up the entire sky; but 2 years have gone and you with it and I can’t fall asleep without feeling the burns from your touch.
Oh how I played with fire and wondered why I got burnt
-V
Aug 30, 2016
Aug 30, 2016 at 10:05 AM UTC
Hold your head up, darling, and be proud
of who you are. Never let him douse
your brilliant flame because his mind cannot
process what you are.
Hold your head up, darling, and be proud
of who you are. He is the epitome of a
great leader but all journey's start at home
and his began with you.
Hold your head up, darling, and be proud
of who you are. Your picture is on the walls
of every 10 year old girl who has spent their life
walking under the shadow of their brothers footsteps.
Hold your head up, darling, and be proud
of who you are. You are an angel
who has fought so fiercely and you may
be home in heaven now but just know
I sleep safe and sound in the light of your halo.
Hold your head up, darling, and be proud
of who you are. Darling be proud you are a woman.
-Nathan Joe (-V)
Jul 28, 2015
Jul 28, 2015 at 6:27 AM UTC
Dear Ex-Lovers,
i. You were poison to me and I loved to get burnt. How could you leave me lying breathless on the floor wanting more? You used me like an escape and I welcomed it. You filled my head with empty promises; I was just a puppet on your string. Oh darling I should have known I was dancing with the devil when I was captured in your eyes.
ii. You were my midnight calls and 4am drunk promises. We spent our summer under the moon with poetry written on the back of your palm. I was your everything and for a time, you were mine. But summer is over and I am gone and you are left with the realization I only used you as a muse.
Iii. It started off with shy hugs between you and I. We were misplaced kisses and awkward silence on a Saturday afternoon. You were all push and no pull, I was too. We never tried hard but that's okay; we were only a distraction from the battles we had within.
iv. I always wondered how I could love someone as cold as you. I was your blanket and you were always trying to keep warm. Maybe you needed a reason to keep trying in this turbulent world and maybe I just loved to play with broken things, but three months have passed and I still sit by your grave and wonder if all I ever did was suffocate the little candle you had burning within.
-V
Jul 25, 2015
Jul 25, 2015 at 3:13 AM UTC
Mother warned me not to fall for girls who turn their
bodies into a trick of light whenever you are with them.
“Careful with the pretty ones,” she would say. Smiles that can
launch a thousand ships and start civil wars were never any good.
“Be a lover, not a muse,” she would say. Careful of the girls
who love what you bring but never love who you are.
“The devil was an angel once,” she would say. He was pretty eyes
with an angelic voice and temptation in it's purest form.
Oh how mother knows best; how I never learned.
-V
Jul 21, 2015
Jul 21, 2015 at 9:52 AM UTC
You see the blood dripping
from her hands.
You watch in silence
as she traces her nails along
the sides of his neck.
She looks at you and you see
a smile on her face.
He is crying now, begging her to stop.
His hands are bloodied and tied,
purple bruises on his wrists.
His face, forever disfigured
by the jagged little knife
she clutches so softly.
She is a killer and you know it.
She is a killer who likes to play
with her food.
She looks at you with a smile on her face.
She looks at you and you're staring
at your own reflection.
-Nathaniel MarkHim (-V)
Jul 7, 2015
Jul 7, 2015 at 4:44 AM UTC
You say you hate the taste of cigarettes in your mouth but yet here you are, lighting another roll.
You tell yourself that you hate the alcohol burning your throat yet you're always getting drunk.
You swear you don't do drugs but you're currently lost in Nirvana under a strangers bathroom sink. You say parties aren't your thing but that doesn't stop you going out every weekend.
You promise yourself that she's the last one as you sneak out of her bedroom window before moving on to the next girl you find.
Stepping school is bad you think as you sneak out of the gates with your best friend yet again.
You vow to change yet this life is
******* thrilling and old habits die hard.
- Vulgara
Dec 7, 2014
Dec 7, 2014 at 6:17 AM UTC
There are wars that still go on
Battles not yet over.
And though you may not see,
Everyday gets colder
Fighting all these demons
I buried deep inside
Yearning to escape me,
Forcing me to hide
No one really knows
The thoughts that fill my head
Because I choose not to show them,
I put a fake smile on instead.
My friends all think they know me
But none of them really do
So I turn to pen and paper
In hopes it will get me through
I'm weary and I'm tired
From all the fighting done.
When all I want to do is just
Stop, get up and run.
But still my war goes on
My battle is not yet over.
And you probably may not see it
My everyday gets colder
-V
May 30, 2014
May 30, 2014 at 3:43 PM UTC