do you remember when we went to the mountains?
yeah, it was an awful trip, and nothing went right
at the end, when it was over, do you remember?
we were packing up our desert igloo to leave it all behind us
you were coordinating our friends loading the truck
it was so stressful, and everyone was tired and cranky
the trip did not go how anyone wanted
I was getting more and more frustrated and you could tell
you came over and asked me what I needed
this is where it gets good, do you remember?
I looked up at you and I could not find the words
I was so overwhelmed; I did not know what I needed
so, you just hugged me
it was exactly what I needed
perfect, safe, home
I looked up to thank you and then
I saw you. for the first time in a while, I saw you.
did you feel the change? do you remember?
Oct 17, 2020
Oct 17, 2020 at 10:38 AM UTC
You sir, are the apple of my eye.
You are the stitches holding my wound together.
You are the glue holding the pages to my spine.
You make me whole.
You are yes ma'am polite and southern pretty.
Rough hands and a soft smile
You make me swoon.
You are are all smiles and good graces
until the whiskey makes you mean.
Then you are fire
Eyes blazing to hot to touch
You break my bones like shattered glass
You paint my skin like the sun setting on a murky lake
You sing a sad sad song and I want to make you okay
You swing like you are hitting a fast pitch ball
lights out
Apr 11, 2019
Apr 11, 2019 at 6:04 PM UTC
I HATE
that I require such validation in all areas of my life. Even poetry, that which is supposed to be my safe space, my outlet, never feels good enough. Insufficient writting, insufficient funds, insufficient happiness. Its all so stuffy and weird. Stiff and dry. Nothing is as it should be.
It's all just so hard.
I HATE
that if I don't get the attention the little dark space inside of me constantly yearns for. I just hide in my car and cry. Tears that are the end of the world. shaking my entire being. Shaking my core. My bones rattle and my teeth grind. I'm screaming and screaming.
It's all just so hard.
I HATE
that I never feel good enough being just average. I always have to be the best or I might as well be the worst. If I am not #1 I don't exist.
i hate that it is all just...so...hard.
s.s
Apr 11, 2019
Apr 11, 2019 at 5:59 PM UTC
I was a dandelion, growing in a flowerbed.
I thought I was a beautiful flower, but the world saw me as a ****
You were a gardener. You came through with every intent of pulling me out, Ending my infestation
of the roses and tulips. The ones that belonged.
The ones that fit in the perfect pretty picture. But you saw a beauty in me the world didn’t see.
You watered me
Kept me
Let me flourish
I started to multiply. I grew larger and stronger. I started to encompass the garden
that was your heart,
Choke out the roses
Choke out the tulips
And then you saw
I was just a ****
I was choking you
Crowding you
Suffocating you
You told me I had to go
But I needed the soil
The sunlight
The water that you provided
I couldn’t survive without you
And you couldn’t survive with me
I’m selfish
I don’t want to go
But I have no choice
I’ve been uprooted.
s.s.
Apr 11, 2019
Apr 11, 2019 at 11:34 AM UTC
Hi. Hello.
It’s been awhile, I hope you are because I am.
Well, mostly.
I found the one who makes me laugh makes me smile
Staves of the darkness so for just a little while
I forget.
I forget that a piece of me is broken, missing.
A piece of me is gone and when I go to give it to the one who makes me feel okay
Everything is not okay I scream and fight and push away
And he’s just so confused.
Things were good we worked through this there hasn’t been a meltdown in oh so many months
He talks he soothes does everything I told him to do but still I’m fighting I’m crying
I’m not there anymore
I’m in another place another time where there were no smiles only tears and those tread are pouring out now as I fight within my self to get back to the place where things are fine and I’m surrounded by love. And then
It’s over.
I’m back he’s holding me and everything is grand
But even now he hesitates to hold my hand afraid
To hurt me
To send me into a spiral that maybe this time I won’t be able to pull myself out of.
And even though I thought I had forgiven you
That I was past it I had regained what you took.
I was wrong and I can’t forgive you
Not yet.
Dec 14, 2018
Dec 14, 2018 at 11:34 PM UTC
today, i woke up and the sun was shining
the birds are singing
people are laughing
but i can't enjoy it.
there is this feeling that is creeping from my toes as the light floods my room.
i feel worthless.
i feel exhausted.
there is no more fight left in me
i wake up like this most days now
but it's okay
even on these days where everything is unbearable and my skin is on fire
i know it can't last forever
today, i want to die
but i won't
because there's a chance that tomorrow i'll want to live.
May 20, 2018
May 20, 2018 at 8:04 PM UTC
Sometimes I just feel like I'm crazy. I get these thoughts that come through my head that feel alien, foreign. They don't come from the me I want to be they come from the me that I'm constantly running from. The me that hides behind the sweet smile and kind gestures. This me is not pretty, she is not smart, she is not kind. This me is a monster, who wants nothing more than carnage. Nothing can stay perfect too long, and I am spiraling into the me that I don't want to be.
Happy New Year,
From the old me.
s.s.
Jan 9, 2018
Jan 9, 2018 at 1:33 AM UTC
Have you ever seen the way fat bubbles under your skin? Fat is such a beautiful thing that is often talked about in such a negative way. Personally I love to watch the fat bubble after the red is done running red and I feel the immense calm that follows. Goodnight.
Jan 6, 2018
Jan 6, 2018 at 10:35 PM UTC
This is not a poem about ****** assault.
This is not a poem about you taking everything from me.
This is not a poem about you taking the little girl I was once and forcing her to see how terrible the world can truly be.
This is not a poem about you taking my 4.0 GPA and shoving it under your bed with the remnants of my underwear.
This is not a poem about you taking the comfort out of physical affection.
This is not a poem about you pretending not to hear me when I begged you to stop.
This is not a poem about me pretending to fall asleep so I could pretend like I didn't remember it happened again.
This is not a poem about you blaming the alcohol.
This is not a poem about you blaming me.
This is not a poem.
Dec 8, 2017
Dec 8, 2017 at 12:27 AM UTC
He kisses me.
Our alcohol mouths intertwined.
Our cigarettes long burned, with ash trailing as long as the city lights that you walk me home under.
I open my eyes, and he isn’t you.
Will my whole life consist of kissing complete strangers so I can find you again?
He pulls me in close and holds me.
If only he knew, that’s all I want.
I have this longing to be held.
By anyone, really.
I don’t want them to talk.
I don’t want them to look me in the eyes.
Because I’ll cry and I don’t want to cry.
Just keep holding me.
Please.
I know he will never be you, but in this moment, with my head buried on his chest, I can pretend.
Dec 8, 2017
Dec 8, 2017 at 12:01 AM UTC