Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Alice May 13
Would you
Make me
C    R    Y
Please help me
To understand
Why you choose
To make me feel
Like a discarded tin can
That’s been left in the rain
You don’t see the tear stains
I’m rusting, and I’m in pain
I really thought we were friends
But I was never your main. I’m too lame.
Can I really be blamed for liking you.
There was nothing that I wouldn’t do
To make you laugh, to see your smile—so worthwhile
When I think of you now, I will always feel bile
Rising up in my throat as I choke on my feelings
To love me for me isn’t easy; you’re not ******
I’ve let my insecurities run freely, and I’m feeling queasy
Because I’ve been placing all these unfair expectations on you
Like Icharus I flew too close to the sun, and you pushed me away
My newfound wings have gone up in flames . I’m quite the pest.
It’s for the best. You can rest as I fall from the heavens.
Heavy in heart, but lighter in soul. I’m out of control.
It gets old, not feeling like you’re whole, and these holes,
They leak tears. It’s a fear as you watch my descent.
Some things just aren’t meant to be, so I flee,
And you lose the chance to hurt me, break me.
Once again, I must perpend at this end,
Girl, what  did I do wrong?
Alice May 4
I lay here
In bed
Bathed in soft orange light
Thinking of you
And your phantom
And the tears that sting
My eyes when I think
Of you
And your soft, golden skin
And the pale amber that bathes my walls
And my face
And spills into the night
At 2 A.M. when I’m cold
And pulling
The rich velvet
Blanket of your laugh
Up to my chin
In the dark.
Alice Jun 2019
I no longer bleed
When I pick up the pieces
Of my shattered self.

The puzzle is almost complete.
I can see a familiar face
Through the jagged cracks;
It's the forest through the trees.

Her smile is genuine,
Warm and bright.
She is as radiant as the sun
In the cleansing light of dawn.

A single, salty tear
Rolls down her cheek.
In that moment,
Her burdens are shed.

Hello, Old Friend.
Alice Dec 2018
The biting touch of the glass saunters
The curves of my skin.
A macabre melody surges
Through the hollows of my bones,
As my body is made a puppet,
Dancing to the discordant memories.

The webbing of the belt is lead
Against my gossamer chest.
Suspended in the air,
My limbs dangle like a sacrifice
To the shards below.

My vocal chords bleed
With each ghoulish plea from my lips
Until strong hands find my torso,
And I rise
Into the sickly light of day.

The cool air of the night is a pleasant foil
To the heat of the brackish liquid
Which caresses my cheeks.
My mangled laugh mars the stillness
As I remember the abyss
That welcomed me before
I nearly met the cold embrace
With such a finality.
Two months ago I was involved in a nearly-fatal car accident. I would not be alive today if I had been driving a different car. For some time I've been meaning to write about my accident, and I am glad that I have finally found the courage to do so.
Alice Dec 2018
My eyes linger
Just a little
Too long.
I avert my gaze,
As if my irises
Have been burned
By the sight,
By my shame.

Her lips are fresh
And pink.
I speak to them,
And I’m sure
She notices.

I wait for her
In the mornings
And eagerly
Anticipate her
Arrival to class,
Saving a seat.

My heart flutters
At her casual
My body leans in
And yearns
For more.

She is beautiful,
But she doesn’t know it.
I know I can’t have her,
But I crave her
Just the same.

It pains me
To keep my hands at my side,
To not cup her cheek,
To leave our fingers untangled,
To keep my sweet nothings
To myself.
Alice Dec 2018
I am an excellent liar
It’s one of the few talents
I possess,
And I likely should not
Be proud of it,
As it is a cause for concern
In many people

Do I speak sincerely,
They wonder
Am I who I claim
To be
Are my pretty words hollow

It is hard to trust someone
Who lies and lies
For funsies
It’s hard to trust kids who grew up taking theater classes. As a a competitive improviser, it’s my job to lie and make you believe it. Don’t toy with your friends’ trust and emotions, especially just for funsies
Alice Dec 2018
We all have a hunger
For more
Than what we have,
To be something we’re not

Not all itches are meant to be scratched
Next page