Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
 
Du
Cecilie Andersen Jan 2016
Du
På det sidste har du været utrolig svimmel, dog vælger du stadig at gå rundt i cirkler, fordi du vil føle noget. Du vil føle dit blod bruse i dine årer, på en anden måde end du oplever det dagligt, når du skal hive efter vejret og kludrer rundt i ordene indtil de bare bliver til spyt i mundvigen. Du går rundt i cirkler, men du ved ikke hvor du går hen du aner ikke hvor du vil hen og hvor du ender. Og du ved jo selvfølgelig godt, at det altid har været meget lettere at omtale dig selv i tredje person, ikke?
Cecilie Andersen Mar 2015
De siger at du skal kæmpe imod dine fjender
men det er utrolig svært at kæmpe imod dig selv ikke?

Du blev skåret af disse skarpe vinger
og blomster flød ud af din hud, din mund og dine øjne

Stemmen er ikke den eneste der kan skrige også huden, kroppen og armene for nogen eller noget

Og jeg ved ikke hvad der er værst.
Cecilie Andersen Apr 2018
I am fighting for my life, gasping for thick air, but he is like a prison. He locks me behind his walls and he is keeping me tight pulling me closer to his body. I fight to break free, but he is grapping my shirt and trowing me on the bed so it get's harder for me to stand up before he continues to push me into the duvet that suddenly does not feel so soft and comftorble as it used to. I am drowning between the many layers of heavy fabric and my own skin. My body feels weak, my cheeks warm and my throat is filled with spit. I keep trying to swim to the top of the ocean, but it's like i've got a massive rock tied around my feet. Maybe it's time to let go, let go and just float.
Cecilie Andersen Jun 2015
*** sang med på sange *** ikke kendte. Hendes mor sagde det var, fordi *** følte sig godt tilpas i mit selskab. Jeg børstede hendes krøllede hår igennem, for derefter at affarve det orange. Senere ødelagde *** hendes puder med sit blå-smittende hår. Du er min inspiration, du er den lyskæde på min hylde, som du engang fortalte mig om. Dine ord er smukke, meget smukkere end mine, men jeg gør hvad jeg kan, for det har du lært mig at gøre siden 11-års-alderen.
God ferie. Vil savne dig
Cecilie Andersen Apr 2014
I’m scared that you will
walk away someday,
and forget all about me

and I know I might
sound really selfish
but please stay
forever

I know someday
when we grow old and
don’t have more life
back to be liven in our worn
bodies, you will leave me
I will leave you
death will divorce us
and
*I am so scared
Cecilie Andersen Jul 2015
Jeg ved ikke hvad du leder efter
men du har efterhånden ledt i flere år

Du går i seng så du ikke kan føle
de lange beskidte negle kradse dig
langt ned af din blege ryg
Så du ikke føler alle krybene
kravle rundt i din mave
og ud igennem din stumme mund

Er du virkelig den person
som du ser i øjnene når du
står og børster dit uglede
leverpostejs-farvede hår
foran spejlet om morgnen
eller er du bare endnu en illusion
Cecilie Andersen Aug 2015
Du bidder i din underlæbe til den er helt blodig og hudløs.
Dine hænder er gemt inde i dine alt for lange ærmer.
Neglelakken farver dine nedbidte negle grå, den er halvt afpillet og krakeleret, så der kun er en lille plet af grå tilbage. Dine øjne er mere røde end blå og de ser ned på dine sammenkrøllede tær og skæve fødder. Dit blonde hår er uglet efter et forsøg på at rive det ud af din blege blødende hovedbund i frustration. Du skriger, men skrigene når ikke ud til nogen. Bare der var nogen der ville fortælle dig at det du prøver at flygte fra er noget indeni. Det kommer krybende op igennem din ømme mave på de mest uventede tidspunkter. Den kryber sig videre op til din hals og den kvæler dig så du bliver nødt til at snappe efter vejret. Du tænker, men tankerne er kun disse negative tanker som du så *** får når du er alene om natten under din ikke så varme dyne. Du kan flygte så længe du vil, men den vil altid være i dig.
Cecilie Andersen Dec 2014
Du er rød og jeg blå
Jeg er is, du er ild

Og jeg har frosset i flere dage

Jeg drømmer mig hen i en verden
hvor græsset gror til himlen
sommerfugle så store som
biler

Jeg sagde jeg var den uhyggeligste
gyserfilm jeg kunne forstille mig

og jeg vil drukne i din hud
hvis ikke i min egen
Cecilie Andersen Apr 2018
I used to be pretty, but now I look sick.
I used to be though, but now I feel weak.
I can't help myself, so I became helpless.
I am never leaving this bed which i'm drowning in, but I hope that someday I learn how to swim with the fish.

Blood is rushing to the visible veins in my wrists and down my legs 'till it becomes hot at my feet and i'm standing in a red pool. And I wish I could swim with the blood cells.

Endure more like suffer. And I might survive but i'm no survivor.

I used to look sick, but now I look dead.
Cecilie Andersen Jun 2014
I want to see how your lips split
when you're sleepy
I want to trace the lines
in your soft hand.
I want to feel your lungs drag air
in and out.
I want to feel your blood turn warm when
I kiss your cheek
?I want to move around in your
bed sheets just to make the smell
of you stronger


*I want to make you love yourself
just like I love you
Cecilie Andersen Jul 2014
I sometimes catch myself glancing at someone.
Then turn around, but I can't stop myself from staring back at them again.
The way people do something, and look so beautiful, without even knowing.
When they draw, when they do their homework, when they're watching TV, some people just always catch my eyes, and I can't help but stare at them. It makes me smile, and I kind of fall in love with the way people do stuff.
Cecilie Andersen Sep 2017
Jeg kan mærke dine hænder tage fat om min tynde slappe arm. Jeg sparker og slår uden at opnå noget, og et skrig flår i halsen på mig, men det vil ikke ud. Det kan ikke komme ud, for det samler sig bare til spyt i højre mundvig og ligger sig i lag med alle de ord jeg ikke fik sagt.

Nærm dig ikke og hold ikke om mig, for jeg vil ikke have, at du skal høre min vejrtrækken og mine gisp. Jeg vil ikke vise dig, at mit hjerte galoperer og hamrer indtil min krop ryster af rædsel og, at jeg har trykken for ørerne og blod rosende til mine kinder, som bliver varme og farves røde, for ikke engang min angst vil jeg forære dig.

Tåre der ikke får lov til at flyde ud, føles som det grove sandpapir min far plejede at bruge til sine lyse afskårne træstykker. Lader jeg tårerne flyde føles det som det glas han engang kom til at ødelægge i raseri, og alt blev til små, skarpe glasskår i den sølvfarvede-stål-håndvask. Pludselig ved jeg hvordan han havde det dengang, hvor alt gik i flammer og alt spildte over. Jeg skriger under vand og er holdt fast med lænker og ræb, imens sten bliver smidt mod mig. Jeg lukker de tunge øjenlåg ned over mine matte øjne.
TRANSLATED:
Screams
I can feel your hands grasping my thin limp arm. I am kicking and punching without achieving anything and a scream flays in my throat, but it won't get out. It can not get out, because it just accumulates in saliva in the right side of my mouth and lies in pickle with all of the words I did not say.

Don't get close and don't hold me, for I do not want you to hear my breathing and my gasps. I don't want to show you my heart galloping and hammering until my body shakes in horror and that I have oppression in the ears and blood rushing to my cheeks till they get hot and are being colored red, for not even my fear I will give you.

Tears that are not allowed to flow feels like the coarse sandpaper my father used to use for his light cut pieces. If I let the tears flow, it would feel like the glass he once wreaked in anger, and everything turned into small, sharp glass pieces in the silver-colored-steel sink. Suddenly I know how he felt when it all was flaming and everything spilled over. I'm screaming under water and stuck with chains and belch while stones are being thrown at me. I close the heavy eyelids over my matte eyes.
Cecilie Andersen Apr 2014
The grass is speaking
The sound comes tickling me in my ears
just like his voice
When he touches the grass, it slips through
his beautiful fingers and
it touches his fingertips
in such a perfect way

We don't say a word

He lies down in the summer grass
it shapes his perfect body
and strokes his defined cheekbones

It's only him, me
and the speaking grass
Cecilie Andersen Dec 2014
The blood in my arm
Looks so much better in my veins
Atleast that is my way of thinking now

Once, a bird with sharp wings
Flew across my pale skin and I went blue

Mother I promise
The bird is gone
And it's never coming back
Cecilie Andersen Sep 2016
You filled your skin with sharp lead and your arms with cigaret burns, without any screams, but with the blue mass that touched your cheeks. You used to think, that to put on a massiv amount of black eyeliner, would hide the fact, that you couldn't sleep at night. And you used to think that starving yourself, would make you feel just a little bit better about who you were, but all you ended up with was a stomach you could fit your hands around, collar bones that stuck  far out from your skin, so they could break at anytime and your hipbones were like knifes, that could slice a man open. You used to do and think so many stupid things, and you were just this little self-conscious girl that needed to be loved and accepted by someone. That little girl is still inside you, but you have learnt to control her and say no when she wants to play.
Cecilie Andersen May 2015
En tom stol, forladt, ensom og itu
ligesom det kys der er blevet gemt ovre i hjørnet
et kys der aldrig vil blive samlet op igen

Du fortalte mig at det føltes som om
at livet glider igennem dine kolde hænder
men det eneste der bør glide gennem dine fingre
er mine fingre

Jeg går rundt med et kort over himlen
ikke én eneste sky at se, ingen syngende fugle
eller hurtige flyvemaskiner
Måske er dit hjerte ikke det eneste der er tomt
Men hvorfor siger man så
at der er mere mellem himmel og jord, spørger du
Cecilie Andersen Apr 2014
Playing around didn’t care how
we looked and wouldn’t get
embarrassed for what we did

When we injure ourselves we
got a Band-Aid on the spot
were it hurt and we thought it helped
and miraculous the pain was gone

Then we grew up
We don’t play around and if
we did we would get judged by others

When we get hurt a Band-Aid
can’t help the pain go away.
'Cause a Band-Aid can’t fix a broken heart

*Right?
Cecilie Andersen Apr 2014
What are words? Just some
random letters we have put together?
But what are words when you
really don’t mean them
when you say them?

Words can make somebody’s day.
Words can heal broken
hearts and souls.

Words can hurt someone.
Words can **** thousands of lives.
They can hurt more than
anything.

Sometimes we don’t
have any words left, sometimes
our mouths just won't open up
and speak. That’s silence.

Some words are better left unsaid.
Some words will be left unsaid,
when all you really want to do
is to tell how you feel, but the words
gets locked inside of your heart.

We use words every day,
but we don’t really think of
words in the real way.

Words are stronger than anything,
so never, ever use them the wrong way.

— The End —