un_spoken - Hello Poetry

oh, i feel better! better, and a little hungry too- hungry as if i haven’t eaten a single thing in all the years i spent devouring you.

0

Apr 18, 2025

Apr 18, 2025 at 9:15 PM UTC

starved

oh, i feel better! better, and a little hungry too- hungry as if i haven’t eaten a single thing in all the years i spent devouring you.

3

i’m going to miss you violently, with your hair wrapped around my fist, and you’ll like this, won’t you? there will be nights i don’t sleep, and days where i can’t eat, and all the while your voice will sit inside of my mind like a calf on a **** ******* the life from me.

0

Apr 8, 2025

Apr 8, 2025 at 8:46 PM UTC

can’t things go back to the way that they were?

i’m going to miss you violently, with your hair wrapped around my fist, and you’ll like this, won’t you? there will be nights i don’t sleep, and days where i can’t eat, and all the while your voice will sit inside of my mind like a calf on a **** ******* the life from me.

6

i’m inherently sad. i’ll never get better. i’ll **** myself right now so i won’t be forced to feel this way later. and no one will notice or even shed a tear in fact, it will be ages before anyone notices i was ever even here. and if someone cares enough to ask why or “who did this to you?” i’ll simply point one long, broken finger at you. and the world will see, they’ll all understand i did my best by you but i was only a kid so how am i meant to escape you if you’re embedded into my lungs? how am i supposed to love you if you grew into a stranger when you grew up?

0

Mar 24, 2025

Mar 24, 2025 at 7:30 PM UTC

strangers since birth.

i’m inherently sad. i’ll never get better. i’ll **** myself right now so i won’t be forced to feel this way later. and no one will notice or even shed a tear in fact, it will be ages before anyone notices i was ever even here. and if someone cares enough to ask why or “who did this to you?” i’ll simply point one long, broken finger at you. and the world will see, they’ll all understand i did my best by you but i was only a kid so how am i meant to escape you if you’re embedded into my lungs? how am i supposed to love you if you grew into a stranger when you grew up?

15

i don’t like thinking about the stain on my brain about the awful disturbing things that i’ve done and seen and played out in my skull oh no, i don’t like who i am the truth of it all? i don’t like feeling this small. i’m on fire and i think everyone should just let me burn, or toss me into the pool and then let me drown, save me just to **** me in a different way, pull me out and put a needle in my veins i need to change i need to want to change. did you like who i was yesterday? i think i’ll be her again. do you think we could scrub my mind clean and just begin again? i could forget your name and you could forget that night in my bed no one would need to know a word that i said and somehow i’ll know not to touch you ever again and then you could heal and i could be cleansed- i don’t like thinking, i don’t like being a part of the torture that was my upbringing. i don’t like sleeping, i don’t like being the last bit of defense before you start swinging. i wanted to be something better than i am today but i can’t point out exactly when everything blew up in my face and even though it’s my fingers that are covered in this powder i’m sure it’s anyone else’s fault for how i got here.

0

Mar 13, 2025

Mar 13, 2025 at 11:09 PM UTC

thirteen

i don’t like thinking about the stain on my brain about the awful disturbing things that i’ve done and seen and played out in my skull oh no, i don’t like who i am the truth of it all? i don’t like feeling this small. i’m on fire and i think everyone should just let me burn, or toss me into the pool and then let me drown, save me just to **** me in a different way, pull me out and put a needle in my veins i need to change i need to want to change. did you like who i was yesterday? i think i’ll be her again. do you think we could scrub my mind clean and just begin again? i could forget your name and you could forget that night in my bed no one would need to know a word that i said and somehow i’ll know not to touch you ever again and then you could heal and i could be cleansed- i don’t like thinking, i don’t like being a part of the torture that was my upbringing. i don’t like sleeping, i don’t like being the last bit of defense before you start swinging. i wanted to be something better than i am today but i can’t point out exactly when everything blew up in my face and even though it’s my fingers that are covered in this powder i’m sure it’s anyone else’s fault for how i got here.

28

dear darling diary, nothing makes any sense to me whenever i say it out loud. and do you think i'll ever get better? do you know if it's even allowed? and do you know what i told her? i said, "yeah, you can try and take this weight off my chest, but i've lived with it for so long that i'd just go out in search of it again." do you know what i mean? i can be a husk, or i can be nothing but no matter what, i always feel muted. quieter. dark. i always feel like i've been treading water for a very long time and now my legs are sore but if i stop, then i'll drown so what am i meant to do? i feel ashamed of not being happy enough so i wear a smile everyday but i hate carving it into my face what is wrong with me? why can't i feel things the way everyone else does? why am i so detached from my own sense of self? as a child, i was abused. i was neglected emotionally, physically, mentally so i learned to satisfy my own needs for just about everything but i still never learned to let someone close. close enough to burn to scar close enough to take these keys and drive my heart. and why? why can't i just forget what happened? why can't i let it all go? i pick my scabs, every single one i bleed, and i'll never heal and it's all my own **** fault.

0

Mar 11, 2025

Mar 11, 2025 at 9:07 PM UTC

i'm worried this may be me at my best.

dear darling diary, nothing makes any sense to me whenever i say it out loud. and do you think i'll ever get better? do you know if it's even allowed? and do you know what i told her? i said, "yeah, you can try and take this weight off my chest, but i've lived with it for so long that i'd just go out in search of it again." do you know what i mean? i can be a husk, or i can be nothing but no matter what, i always feel muted. quieter. dark. i always feel like i've been treading water for a very long time and now my legs are sore but if i stop, then i'll drown so what am i meant to do? i feel ashamed of not being happy enough so i wear a smile everyday but i hate carving it into my face what is wrong with me? why can't i feel things the way everyone else does? why am i so detached from my own sense of self? as a child, i was abused. i was neglected emotionally, physically, mentally so i learned to satisfy my own needs for just about everything but i still never learned to let someone close. close enough to burn to scar close enough to take these keys and drive my heart. and why? why can't i just forget what happened? why can't i let it all go? i pick my scabs, every single one i bleed, and i'll never heal and it's all my own **** fault.

35

she's married, but you're lost in between the sheets of her four poster bed and rational words like, stop, and, this is a bad idea, are far from your head. she's married, but you're thinking you could see a future if you squint hard enough she's married, and you are too, but more to the idea of love not so much to the guy sitting across from you both asking you how your day was. and there are things in this world that you simply don't touch unless you want to get burned like poison ivy or fire or brown haired green eyed fair skinned liars just to name a few. she's married, but her lips taste just like honeydew and there's a little piece of her inside you and everywhere you go everything you do you can feel her i mean, really feel her but she's married, so there's not much you can do she's married, my love, just- not to you.

0

Feb 23, 2025

Feb 23, 2025 at 9:11 PM UTC

i am nothing if not full of unrequited love.

she's married, but you're lost in between the sheets of her four poster bed and rational words like, stop, and, this is a bad idea, are far from your head. she's married, but you're thinking you could see a future if you squint hard enough she's married, and you are too, but more to the idea of love not so much to the guy sitting across from you both asking you how your day was. and there are things in this world that you simply don't touch unless you want to get burned like poison ivy or fire or brown haired green eyed fair skinned liars just to name a few. she's married, but her lips taste just like honeydew and there's a little piece of her inside you and everywhere you go everything you do you can feel her i mean, really feel her but she's married, so there's not much you can do she's married, my love, just- not to you.

23

i’m happy all of the time. or maybe my clock is broken maybe my clock is broken and it doesn’t matter because i can’t even read the hands maybe i don’t know anything at all but it’s been a very long time since i last felt the smoothness of your alive skin. i’m happy some of the time. during those in between sleeps where i can forget where i can forget that i have been cracked open. i feel sort of like something inside of me has been, not missing more like- stolen like yesterday i had ribs and today i'm standing in front of your coffin and there are flowers on your dress but i don’t want to think about that. i’m happy all of the time. even if i don’t quite remember the feeling it’s sort of like when you’ve been cold for so long that you start to feel warm only you aren’t warm you’re dying. i’m happy some of the time but mostly i think, i think i’m just lying.

0

Feb 21, 2025

Feb 21, 2025 at 3:37 PM UTC

if only i could love you back to life.

i’m happy all of the time. or maybe my clock is broken maybe my clock is broken and it doesn’t matter because i can’t even read the hands maybe i don’t know anything at all but it’s been a very long time since i last felt the smoothness of your alive skin. i’m happy some of the time. during those in between sleeps where i can forget where i can forget that i have been cracked open. i feel sort of like something inside of me has been, not missing more like- stolen like yesterday i had ribs and today i'm standing in front of your coffin and there are flowers on your dress but i don’t want to think about that. i’m happy all of the time. even if i don’t quite remember the feeling it’s sort of like when you’ve been cold for so long that you start to feel warm only you aren’t warm you’re dying. i’m happy some of the time but mostly i think, i think i’m just lying.

23

she slaps you- hard right across your mouth she put you into this world, she says she’ll take you right back out. and you aren’t quite sure, really, what it is you’ve done wrong did you mumble? forget a chore? you think about asking but there’s this look in her eyes so you bite back your tongue you chew and gnaw until copper fills your mouth and as you smile as her, blood drips out “you’re a demon!” she screams in your left ear “you’re the devil’s child!” you try not to flinch, to let her see you’re hurt after all, if you are the devil’s child what does that make her?

0

Feb 20, 2025

Feb 20, 2025 at 3:06 PM UTC

mother

she slaps you- hard right across your mouth she put you into this world, she says she’ll take you right back out. and you aren’t quite sure, really, what it is you’ve done wrong did you mumble? forget a chore? you think about asking but there’s this look in her eyes so you bite back your tongue you chew and gnaw until copper fills your mouth and as you smile as her, blood drips out “you’re a demon!” she screams in your left ear “you’re the devil’s child!” you try not to flinch, to let her see you’re hurt after all, if you are the devil’s child what does that make her?

15

cigarette smoke in the living room begging for therapy she tells him he has to choose the drugs or the baby & he says he won’t do it again but his hands keep splitting from the bones in her face i’m trying to be a good friend but there’s still so much i have left to say she wants a happy ending but i don’t know what to tell her i’m not a physic i’m just a writer.

0

Feb 13, 2021

Feb 13, 2021 at 1:43 AM UTC

just a writer.

cigarette smoke in the living room begging for therapy she tells him he has to choose the drugs or the baby & he says he won’t do it again but his hands keep splitting from the bones in her face i’m trying to be a good friend but there’s still so much i have left to say she wants a happy ending but i don’t know what to tell her i’m not a physic i’m just a writer.

11

home is christmas of 2019 when i decorated the tree holding my favorite niece home is the summer before my first year of middle school when i danced everyday in my mother’s giant kitchen or in the middle of the street home is not 52 days ago when i tried to take my life & failed home is not 11 days ago when i ran until my feet bled- until i derailed when i was little i was told home is where the heart is when i was little i was told that home is within when i was little i was referred to as a tornado because i had broken every home i’d been in. home is last night when i rocked my nephew to sleep home is this morning when i laughed with my sisters home is not summer sixteen when i felt incredibly weak home is not five years ago when i stayed in that house down the street maybe home is inside me maybe it’s laying on the floor in my room maybe home is exactly where i left it in your car where i last kissed you or maybe it’s not even around anymore maybe it left with the moon...

0

Oct 14, 2020

Oct 14, 2020 at 11:10 AM UTC

home.

home is christmas of 2019 when i decorated the tree holding my favorite niece home is the summer before my first year of middle school when i danced everyday in my mother’s giant kitchen or in the middle of the street home is not 52 days ago when i tried to take my life & failed home is not 11 days ago when i ran until my feet bled- until i derailed when i was little i was told home is where the heart is when i was little i was told that home is within when i was little i was referred to as a tornado because i had broken every home i’d been in. home is last night when i rocked my nephew to sleep home is this morning when i laughed with my sisters home is not summer sixteen when i felt incredibly weak home is not five years ago when i stayed in that house down the street maybe home is inside me maybe it’s laying on the floor in my room maybe home is exactly where i left it in your car where i last kissed you or maybe it’s not even around anymore maybe it left with the moon...

18