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I am apprehensive to hold you for fear you will slip through my hands like the sand from the hourglass that keeps pouring out into my lungs and i long for the possibility to finally stop running from all the ghosts in my closet, but every time i come around they come out like the monkey on my back that i’ve had since i was eleven. How do you spell deep affection without saying it’s L-O-V-E? I rue the fact i cannot seem to open these infirm bones enough for you to make your forever home. I do not have the power to paint happiness across your skin, when i do i leave tracks of agony and it’s unbearable to watch you stitch yourself up after every love affair we hold against that lovely flesh of yours.
When you kiss me can you ******* past and all the puzzle pieces that have yet to be put together or do you taste a happy ever after?
My hands no longer trustworthy, i have seen people like buildings, abandoned after an adventure that didn't last long enough. Like the wind I am afraid of going unnoticed like a small thunderstorm I called  your happinessI do not want to be forgotten like that essay you just procrastinated to do, I do not want to be that failing grade that's suffocating you. If not for the metals I have dangling in front of my face you are the only razorblade I will ever let destroy me, each and ever scar will always remind me that with you my happiness was not faked. I am apprehensive to hold you because I don't know how to be someone you'll love.
I could never muster the courage to tell you every time I had to beg for the rights to my own body. I can never tell you, spinning stories woven into my temporal lobe and locked into my spinal column; how everywhere I look I see* his face. My failed attempts at opening up are wilted by my desire to open myself up to you like a late blooming flower. Drowned by the tears I cannot show you I shed every night when i'm all alone and can't seem to keep the poker face strong anymore. I will never have the audacity to clearly show you how damaged i've become, you can already taste it in every kiss.  I don't know how to bring myself to let you hold my demons inside your arms as if they are a newborn baby you have yet to love. Every single time i open my mouth my past begins to talk as if possessed by my greatest fears . My guts are spewing , spilling overboard and  I am terrified to show you what he did to me
*One year,  ten months, that's how long it's been since i  sliced his presence from my body and yet it's still haunting me. They keep telling me that i will never be okay that i will  solely  learn how to  cope with the amount of trauma he caused.  For every message that appears on my dimly lit screen that tells me he's been thinking of me, i suppose i failed at completely blocking him out of my life like those unwanted friends i never seem to delete.  Today it snowed, and i couldn't help  but remember how safety use to feel and his fingerprints still linger against the pale skin i live in. That's all it is now is my body bag that still seems to breath.
I can never tell you how much i adore that beautiful face of yours i'm afraid you'll see too much and leave me in the dust like he left me in that tunnel, on that carpet in that park. How do i let him control me?   I still manage to cower down  and be the submissive but he's no longer hovering over me, towering to  get complete control. He will forever be that ghost that remains a scar way too deep to heal.
Dear crippling sadness that makes it so tragically difficult to get out of bed in the morning,
You’ve been the imaginary friend i just can’t seem to outgrow the people who use to stare at me and get paid to tell me “oh that’s normal you’ll be okay that man will never find you again….you were after all only five” they told me that i had to take this tiny white happy pill because you….you are the chemical imbalance i suffer from daily. Instead of taking a prescription or therapy i take my thoughts bundle them up like a bouquet and pray to a god i can’t seem to believe in that today i’ll be okay.
 Dear monster that lives inside my brain that i can only see,
when will enough be enough? The people who matter most to me are starting to realize i’m a project that can never be finished…..but was i really even started to begin with? You are that failing grade that is sinking my ship that use to be heading for graduation.
Dear Depression,
you see you and i play so well together, you say jump i ask how high. You teach me that this low i feel can get lower and deeper until i’m six feet deep with a tombstone to decorate how my life has been lived. Everyone will wear black, but my life was so colorful it does not need to be represented by the ugliness of you but merely how creatively i lived. While others were super outgoing and ready for the day i liked to play a little game of “drink some coffee and remember that today is just another play im starring in”. Others were talking about how dances and parties were coming up i learned to play “dressup” i could dress up a wound, i could dress up my look so you would not leak through the bandages of an already forgotten night.
Dear ‘I want to care but it’s not in me today to even care to try’,
Having anxiety and depression is like not caring about anything but caring way too much about everything, to the point i get a new assignment and start crying. Depression, the summer before my ninth grade year you taught me the trick of how to disappear, coffee in the morning, salad at dinner there was no room in my stomach to eat more than that. My therapist stared at me and told me our little friend ana was on her way to take over me completely and out the door into the coffin i would go. They said my body will cave in on itself as if my ribs were too fragile to carry this weight i had left on me. So it began to eat away the bad. I’d lay in bed at night and the gnawing feeling at the pit of my stomach was each award i was given for every rib they could see.
Dear mom and dad,
You told me to just be happy. So that day i took all of my antidepressants i was just doing what you told me to do. Who knew it’d be labeled under an overdose.
Forgive me father for I have sinned, wait what's the part after that? Isn't it go ahead my child? I don't really know because religion has always felt like a relationship I just can't commit to, while others are on their knees begging for forgiveness I was on the white tiles while the only blood of Jesus I saw was my own. Forgive me-wait you see I'm suppose to say forgive me father but it's more like why did you forget me father ? You breathed the life into my mother's stomach and then like hoodini disappeared only to reappear when the sting from the cut had started to scab you ripped it off like the bandaid I had to leave on for so long because as a child all I wanted to do was heal. Honor thy mother and...thy father? Is that really the thing to do after barricading yourself into my arteries with the knife you chased mom with. Forgive me father I don't know what I've done but somehow being born was the sin that condemned me from ever feeling your love as a soft emotion but of something I must always beg for. Forgive me father I cannot seem to see things straight and for that you will surely disown me as if you owned me when you put your  DNA into the mixing bowl to recreate your mistake that you so proudly claim on taxes. Forgive me father for I have sinned I wrote another poem again thinking someone would care to hear my voice, but they shot it down like the deer I am. Now I lay me down to sleep I pray--- who has my soul because they told me I lost it when I kissed her when I tied myself down and told them how to pronounce my name. Forgive me father for I have sinned?  Just by putting on the female body I live in.
I'm suppose to be mad at you. I am furious with you. I'm angry that every time I try to remember the good all i do is remember the bad. When I look in the mirror all I see is you standing behind me and its becoming a trip like I took acid but ive never even touched the **** things..

You have become the punchline to every joke my parents don't refrain from telling. The punchline has them in fits of laughter and I don't think they saw how it was like I was sucker punched in the gut with the breath knocked right out of me

It took me six months to realize you were no good for me, but the damage had already set in like the death from a funeral that was never held for who i was.
I bet you don't even realize that, and I'm not saying I'm in love with you anymore I'm just saying if you were here in front of me I don't know if i'd fall to the ground and hope to god I don't show you how badly I cant get over what you did. Or if id simply ask you for a hug because after all in this morbid way I'm still in love with you. Its too cliche to say I gave you pieces of me that I ache to gain back. You see I never told anyone
..and maybe thats my issue.
I am a walking contradiction as I tell others to be strong and to not go back but I….If I was drunk and you somehow appeared like every memory somehow shows up like that unwanted pregnancy you thought I had. I don't know if id fall right into your arms to beg for the old us back.

Rug burns and bruises, I learned no was not a standing ovation for my security as a person but an invite for the pressure of an unclean carpet to be dragged across my body. I can still feel the digging of your jeans in my back. Its like you never really left.

This town has so many painful memories that I think it's time to get the uhaul take all the memories, take the pain and ill go somewhere I cant see you everywhere I turn. No amount of therapy can ever make me function like an actual human being.


Do you not understand that now every time the hurt comes back I have to apologize to her because I can't explain that what you did, what you continuously do is something more than words explain. That maybe she fell i love with someone who is unfixable.

The bruises are gone but the memories remain.
His eyes were not the reminder of a once well known friend they were the reminder that I only got three hours of sleep last night and there's a test on something I couldn't wrap my brain around because I was too busy searching how to tie a noose on a screen to bright for my tired eyes. I never knew he'd show up unexpectedly at dinner and I could almost see my mothers nose crinkle in disgust either from the stench of my lack of motivation or simply the smell of death. He had this way of holding himself. Hands shaking like a ticking time bomb or way to ready to jump to the next thing to ease the situation.
To ease the situation.
Ease the situation.
The smile carved as big as the jokers planted on a pale face and sunken eyes.
he had bags under his eyes.
bags under his eyes
Under his eyes.
Grimacing under growing bruises and bones that creaked with every movement because he is like an old house. Fun to look at and imagine what it was like in its glory days but spiderwebs and dust seem to be a better turn off than the word no.
No one told them that depression is a battle ground that theyd have to pick up their long lost child from.
 Sep 2020 Alex
riwa
Don’t fall for me,
simply because
I will turn your kisses into similes
kissing you is like watching a sunset; slow, and beautiful.

Don’t tell me you love me,
simply because
your words will form metaphors in my mouth
you are a thunderstorm my heart is not ready for.

Don’t fall for me,
simply because
I am selfish,
every breath you take, every word you speak
I will find a way to turn that into a composition of letters and sounds
for my own purpose.


Don’t try to be with me,
simply because
I will try to trap you with my words
every space in my broken sentences will be filled with thoughts of you.

Stay with me,
I’ll turn your existence into a poem
stay with me,
I’ll engrave your name into my verses
stay with me,
stay with me,
stay with me,

so I don’t have to turn my heartache into a poem of sorrow once again.

I have not felt at ease with the world in a while,
but that has changed,
simply because
you are my world now
everything I do,
I do for you.


So this is a warning;
don’t fall for me,
simply because
I am a thief who is good with words,
*I will steal your love
and turn it into stories of malignancy and almosts.
12.10.17
 Sep 2020 Alex
madelinexxmolloy
Tens of millions of men, women and children murdered
But what do we care?
Genocide-systematically killing, ******, and harming
But what do we care?
We say "never again" that turned into "never again, again"
And twenty-thousand children born for one-hundred days of forced pleasure
Families ripped apart, homes destroyed, and ******-******
We say it but do we get it?
Do we really GET it?
Do we really grasp the fact of people's lives being ended forcefully for no other reason than someone "disagrees" for no other reason than someone's "different
But what do we care?
Blue eyes, blonde hair, bright skin to the right
Brown eyes, black hair, dark skin to the left
Those on the right go home,
Those on the left no longer have homes for concentration camps are now their homes
The sent of freshly brewed lipton tea has now been replaced by the harsh fumes of zyklon-B
Unsure of their next meal, if you could call it that at all, unsure of their next beating, the next time they'll be *****, unsure of what'll be theirs last breath before death
Feeling unsure and not secure
But please tell me, what do we care?
 Sep 2020 Alex
George Anthony
i am not yours to pursue,
nobody's to claim, to obsess over
you do not have the right to ignore my declination
nor to see my rejection as a challenge;
i am not a game or a puzzle
if you think my "no" is a jigsaw piece fitted in the wrong place
there for you to move and arrange
again and again
until you finally hear "yes"
then you are too much a child for my liking
too much about the conquest and not enough about the person.
my "no" will not be manipulated into a "yes",
you cannot play me into your hands

i am not a gamer, i am an artist
i will sketch thicker lines, make my "no" bolder
NO
i will add more tone, make it sterner
add more shade, allow my anger to cast shadows over your reputation
and it will not be hard to outline your true colours:
you've already revealed so many.
i don't need to paint you as a villain; you have done that much yourself
you too are an artist, in your own right...
you've smudged your lines so much, you've crossed boundaries.
your so-called love is not delicate pink―it is blood red and sticky.
your so-called affections leech the grey from my palette
and leave me seeing you in black and white.
oh, there's not much white, not much innocence
you are an all-consuming black; your desire to swallow me whole is abyssal

i will not be the reference of your portraits,
you cannot draw me in
your kind of passion disgusts me; you are not a true artist.
there'll be no soft brushes between us,
only sharp edges of craft knives
as i carve into your determination and soften that hardened clay
into something i can mould and shape,
something i can twist away from me.
six years is a long time for something to be set in stone
but i have a sledgehammer will and i refuse to feel backed into the corners
of your lustful foundations.
i do not wish to be a masterpiece in your eyes any longer.
i never asked you to admire me.
i will not be hung on your wall.
Boys go through this ****, too. I did. Twice.
 Sep 2020 Alex
Shianne Michelle
I got your message, Though it was never sent.
I heard it loud and clear.
Your silence cut through me, Sleep Evaded me and I could not tell you.
Tell you the roses that drape across the bed still have thorns.
that possessive wears the mask of a protector.
Teaching yourself to hold onto your protest so that he will still want you.
Confusing Love and Abuse, volunteering for the draft of his war.
Begging to become a causality of the love he claims to feel.
I've seen this, I've written these words once before.
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