restless - Hello Poetry

Sharpies bleed through notebook paper with ease as their ink is too strong for the lines to absorb It’ll leak and seep down and down, not caring about how many pages it leaves ruined with the shadows of previous pages I’ve written you many letters Letters with my own ink bleeding into your pages You are a novel with sandy, thin pages like a butterfly’s wings A story I desperately want to be a part of But your twelve point times new roman font rejects my messy cursive with distaste Margin writing doesn’t affect the book itself, it only comforts the reader in that it reassures them Reassures that slowly they are gathering the pieces to put together the puzzle Your book is sold from the old bookstore Your cover fair and back almost brand new Spine intact with no folding or drying of the glue You are you I wrote a few notes, at least I tried I accidentally used a sharpie so I’m sorry with the bleeding inside Goodbye May your new owner take better care of you than I Make sure she uses a pencil Before she writes inside

0

May 19, 2017

May 19, 2017 at 7:48 PM UTC

restless

sharpies

Sharpies bleed through notebook paper with ease as their ink is too strong for the lines to absorb It’ll leak and seep down and down, not caring about how many pages it leaves ruined with the shadows of previous pages I’ve written you many letters Letters with my own ink bleeding into your pages You are a novel with sandy, thin pages like a butterfly’s wings A story I desperately want to be a part of But your twelve point times new roman font rejects my messy cursive with distaste Margin writing doesn’t affect the book itself, it only comforts the reader in that it reassures them Reassures that slowly they are gathering the pieces to put together the puzzle Your book is sold from the old bookstore Your cover fair and back almost brand new Spine intact with no folding or drying of the glue You are you I wrote a few notes, at least I tried I accidentally used a sharpie so I’m sorry with the bleeding inside Goodbye May your new owner take better care of you than I Make sure she uses a pencil Before she writes inside

19

this this is for the girl who equates a shove to the wall and stumbling on the sidewalk as both minor interruptions to her day because it's your fault, isn't it? it's your fault that you smoked one last cigarette on the balcony that to take the edge off to numb yourself to his hands how did it feel in that moment when his hands lost touch your legs gave out you were swimming in the sky three floors above the cement was it peaceful for you to experience a high not accompanied by bruises when you woke up in the hospital, the first thing you saw was his face devilish eyes now formed into puppy dog's eyes gaze down at you he says he loves you you forgive him and convince yourself that he really meant it just like you really meant that cigarette to be the last one your lips ever touched He peeks down under your paper hospital gown and sees your bruises he'll tell you you're **** even in the fluorescent love and you count down the minutes until he has his way with you again he likes his *** filled with blood and anger you are more of a fine wine with gentle frisky after tastes he is the cheapest whiskey at the liquor store down the street you know this because your kisses are never sweet your lover's mouth is just a battlefield all it is is a pouch with remnants of all the shot glasses piled near the sink he sees your wounds as trophies and grimaces, daydreaming of when the canvass will turn white again and he can paint his masterpiece over and over again what he doesn't see is the roots in your broken pelvis you are an oak darling with no room to grow any whining and your kid doesn't eat for a night you are doll with skin tanned to a crisp and silicone planted in your chest like fake flowers planted in real soil he tells you to hold your head up and do what he says don't make noise because your son is sleeping two feet of drywall away that doesn't stop him and nor can you you've become numb to the feeling of hands all over you your eyes roll back into your head not out of pleasure, certainly this is not about you they roll because they are so used to see beads of sweat mixed with fake tan his gold chained dog tag hangs in the space between your bodies he's wearing his cologne that awful brand you never liked because he smelled like papyrus he smelled pure and good but even the strongest perfumes can't outweigh the smell of blood that is caked under his fingernails because he was too tired to shower but not tired enough to beat you into the corner of the living room your son is still sleeping in the room next to you you see the ***** syringes lying on the bathroom floor and the pills on the dresser you see his muscles get larger and your heart smaller he'll make you feel special, though because not every girl gets a broken nose for Easter

0

May 1, 2017

May 1, 2017 at 12:53 AM UTC

restless

easter

this this is for the girl who equates a shove to the wall and stumbling on the sidewalk as both minor interruptions to her day because it's your fault, isn't it? it's your fault that you smoked one last cigarette on the balcony that to take the edge off to numb yourself to his hands how did it feel in that moment when his hands lost touch your legs gave out you were swimming in the sky three floors above the cement was it peaceful for you to experience a high not accompanied by bruises when you woke up in the hospital, the first thing you saw was his face devilish eyes now formed into puppy dog's eyes gaze down at you he says he loves you you forgive him and convince yourself that he really meant it just like you really meant that cigarette to be the last one your lips ever touched He peeks down under your paper hospital gown and sees your bruises he'll tell you you're **** even in the fluorescent love and you count down the minutes until he has his way with you again he likes his *** filled with blood and anger you are more of a fine wine with gentle frisky after tastes he is the cheapest whiskey at the liquor store down the street you know this because your kisses are never sweet your lover's mouth is just a battlefield all it is is a pouch with remnants of all the shot glasses piled near the sink he sees your wounds as trophies and grimaces, daydreaming of when the canvass will turn white again and he can paint his masterpiece over and over again what he doesn't see is the roots in your broken pelvis you are an oak darling with no room to grow any whining and your kid doesn't eat for a night you are doll with skin tanned to a crisp and silicone planted in your chest like fake flowers planted in real soil he tells you to hold your head up and do what he says don't make noise because your son is sleeping two feet of drywall away that doesn't stop him and nor can you you've become numb to the feeling of hands all over you your eyes roll back into your head not out of pleasure, certainly this is not about you they roll because they are so used to see beads of sweat mixed with fake tan his gold chained dog tag hangs in the space between your bodies he's wearing his cologne that awful brand you never liked because he smelled like papyrus he smelled pure and good but even the strongest perfumes can't outweigh the smell of blood that is caked under his fingernails because he was too tired to shower but not tired enough to beat you into the corner of the living room your son is still sleeping in the room next to you you see the ***** syringes lying on the bathroom floor and the pills on the dresser you see his muscles get larger and your heart smaller he'll make you feel special, though because not every girl gets a broken nose for Easter

49

I hope you are happy. truly honestly completely from the bottom of my cold heart that you tried to crack. Let's take it back to the days filled with conversations exclamations everything and nothing sleepovers and truth or dare curling hair and asking where where was the future taking us? surely, we didn't think it was here you broke me in a way you'll never see because the sores in my mouth that I carved expertly are scarred over but I can still taste their blood I can still feel the word ring in my ears for all to hear freak freak freak I was I am I cut my mouth open with fangs that sprouted from my gums the bathroom door met my fists in a most cordial meeting it was just a word five letters arranged in a particular way but it came from your mouth the mouth that used to grin at my jokes and laugh every time I spoke the teeth braces spent years trying to fix and no matter how many gallons of soda you drank they still managed to mature into pearls pearls are beautiful but now I can see the sharpness to their shine it cut me and others are deceived by their glimmer you tried to cut me down and congratulations you did but even a dandilion can survive a few hits

0

Apr 29, 2017

Apr 29, 2017 at 1:03 PM UTC

restless

Pearls

I hope you are happy. truly honestly completely from the bottom of my cold heart that you tried to crack. Let's take it back to the days filled with conversations exclamations everything and nothing sleepovers and truth or dare curling hair and asking where where was the future taking us? surely, we didn't think it was here you broke me in a way you'll never see because the sores in my mouth that I carved expertly are scarred over but I can still taste their blood I can still feel the word ring in my ears for all to hear freak freak freak I was I am I cut my mouth open with fangs that sprouted from my gums the bathroom door met my fists in a most cordial meeting it was just a word five letters arranged in a particular way but it came from your mouth the mouth that used to grin at my jokes and laugh every time I spoke the teeth braces spent years trying to fix and no matter how many gallons of soda you drank they still managed to mature into pearls pearls are beautiful but now I can see the sharpness to their shine it cut me and others are deceived by their glimmer you tried to cut me down and congratulations you did but even a dandilion can survive a few hits

36

It will never really go away, and I am coming to accept that. It will be there like the copper aftertaste of cheap chocolate that oils the roof of my mouth Like the scoff of my shoes on the hotel carpets that’d annoy my father The ticking of the clock ten minutes off during practice The icy temperatures of the history classroom as I attempt to pay attention Like the rattle of the acetaminophen tablets in my pill bottles The sweaty nights accompanied by tears and fretting for the morning The feeling in my stomach when a test is placed in front of me Like the way he looks at me from down the hall with wandering eyes to match his heart The way my compass sometimes catches on the surface of the paper and ruins the circle entirely The moment of panic before I remember my locker combination Like the cold feeling of going to sleep with wet hair and stubbly legs The dry tightness of my skin after washing my hands The cracking of my face under my nose due to rough tissues Like the threatening surfaces of frozen water in the parking lot The gagging taste of cough syrup as it spills down my throat The embarrassment of not knowing the answer in class and sputtering out “uh”s and “um”s But accepting that doesn’t rule out the good There will be days filled with shocking ecstasy Like the moment a snow day is announced The grade boost after a well prepared for test A good night’s sleep Warm days Cold nights New sweatshirts waiting to have memories sewn into their fibers Putting lotion on after shaving Buying bed sheets Drinking tea Finding a new band Going to concerts Living Breathing Beating Moving Feeling Loving Maybe it's not so bad if I accept that my days won’t be perfect After all Balance is key in the face of diversity

0

Oct 28, 2016

Oct 28, 2016 at 11:46 PM UTC

restless

it will remain

It will never really go away, and I am coming to accept that. It will be there like the copper aftertaste of cheap chocolate that oils the roof of my mouth Like the scoff of my shoes on the hotel carpets that’d annoy my father The ticking of the clock ten minutes off during practice The icy temperatures of the history classroom as I attempt to pay attention Like the rattle of the acetaminophen tablets in my pill bottles The sweaty nights accompanied by tears and fretting for the morning The feeling in my stomach when a test is placed in front of me Like the way he looks at me from down the hall with wandering eyes to match his heart The way my compass sometimes catches on the surface of the paper and ruins the circle entirely The moment of panic before I remember my locker combination Like the cold feeling of going to sleep with wet hair and stubbly legs The dry tightness of my skin after washing my hands The cracking of my face under my nose due to rough tissues Like the threatening surfaces of frozen water in the parking lot The gagging taste of cough syrup as it spills down my throat The embarrassment of not knowing the answer in class and sputtering out “uh”s and “um”s But accepting that doesn’t rule out the good There will be days filled with shocking ecstasy Like the moment a snow day is announced The grade boost after a well prepared for test A good night’s sleep Warm days Cold nights New sweatshirts waiting to have memories sewn into their fibers Putting lotion on after shaving Buying bed sheets Drinking tea Finding a new band Going to concerts Living Breathing Beating Moving Feeling Loving Maybe it's not so bad if I accept that my days won’t be perfect After all Balance is key in the face of diversity

39

the feeling starts in my toes any my body knows what is about to happen so it lands me on solid ground i shut down, the only sound i hear is the throbbing of my heart that's the start, the fuel for the fire that sparks in my chambers grains of sand tip into my legs and fill me with the heaviness of desire the liar before me spits lighter fluid and lights me up the sand is burned into glass, suddenly I am fragile a thing i never wanted to be they tell me not to throw rocks if i live in a house of glass, yet i hurl boulders at every potential predator who threatens to stain my glass with unholy hands but my dear, it'd be a pleasure to be stained my you the pain i feel looking at you is salt on my tongue weights on my lungs acid on my skin a need within oh god do I miss you, even when you are standing in front of my fortress with ready fingertips but again and again, i will say there is venom, not candy, on your lips

0

Oct 20, 2016

Oct 20, 2016 at 11:53 PM UTC

restless

fortress of glass

the feeling starts in my toes any my body knows what is about to happen so it lands me on solid ground i shut down, the only sound i hear is the throbbing of my heart that's the start, the fuel for the fire that sparks in my chambers grains of sand tip into my legs and fill me with the heaviness of desire the liar before me spits lighter fluid and lights me up the sand is burned into glass, suddenly I am fragile a thing i never wanted to be they tell me not to throw rocks if i live in a house of glass, yet i hurl boulders at every potential predator who threatens to stain my glass with unholy hands but my dear, it'd be a pleasure to be stained my you the pain i feel looking at you is salt on my tongue weights on my lungs acid on my skin a need within oh god do I miss you, even when you are standing in front of my fortress with ready fingertips but again and again, i will say there is venom, not candy, on your lips

16

Fight it. The feeling itches up your spine and makes you want to touch his hand. Fight it. Your knees go weak and shake under your flowing dress that dusts the floor at his feet. This is the closest you will ever be to him. Fight it. His velvet lips are ****** to the touch of another set. Fight it. He touches your head where a thin scratch lines your scalp and you swear there is lightning in his fingertips as you feel his electricity pulsating through your fiery veins. Fight it. His words are soft and match his tamed heart resting in his chest while yours beats furiously. Fight it. You tell yourself that his hands aren’t the makers of your happiness and that he does not define your life from the second you wake up to the minute you fall asleep. Or rather, the countless minutes you spend staring at that one unevenly colored section on your ceiling in the dim moonlight. Fight it. Your feelings are merely a replicate of every living person on this earth. Love is a ruse that everyone falls for. Fight it. As he ices you out of his life with cruel silence, he doesn’t realize. With a cold heart and a freezing desire for love, icing people out is your specialty.

0

Sep 28, 2016

Sep 28, 2016 at 7:04 PM UTC

restless

Fight It

Fight it. The feeling itches up your spine and makes you want to touch his hand. Fight it. Your knees go weak and shake under your flowing dress that dusts the floor at his feet. This is the closest you will ever be to him. Fight it. His velvet lips are ****** to the touch of another set. Fight it. He touches your head where a thin scratch lines your scalp and you swear there is lightning in his fingertips as you feel his electricity pulsating through your fiery veins. Fight it. His words are soft and match his tamed heart resting in his chest while yours beats furiously. Fight it. You tell yourself that his hands aren’t the makers of your happiness and that he does not define your life from the second you wake up to the minute you fall asleep. Or rather, the countless minutes you spend staring at that one unevenly colored section on your ceiling in the dim moonlight. Fight it. Your feelings are merely a replicate of every living person on this earth. Love is a ruse that everyone falls for. Fight it. As he ices you out of his life with cruel silence, he doesn’t realize. With a cold heart and a freezing desire for love, icing people out is your specialty.

20