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 Nov 2018 Hannah Field
Emma Price
I want someone
to joke with
laugh with
learn with
talk with
live with
~much love
I live a life of regrets

A life of constant no rest

A life that needs a drastic change

A life that seems so distant and strange

I live a life of regrets

I'd open my mouth and speak my mind

If it would even matter

The more I see, the less try

To hide the constant clatter

I live a life of regrets
The cut wasn't deep,
No blood was shed,
It was just the pain,
Of scratches on my leg,
Leaning against the wall,
Leaning till I fall,
Crying on the floor,
Not because of simple pain,
But because of the emotions,
I have to endure.

Letting it all out,
Till I feel empty inside,
This was just the beginning,
Of what I have to hide,
Hiding behind my smile,
Is ever so tough,
Now hiding behind my long sleeves,
Is going to be rough...
 Oct 2018 Hannah Field
krm
Clothes have outgrown me many times over,
but this sadness never does.
One size.
fits all.
There should have been an obituary for cancer,  not you.
Wishing these slits within my skin could have been
replaced by a reality check from you, “You chose to exist.”

My name causes a sigh to escape from lips,
that do not feel like they belong to me,
the girl,
whose words always had to be special.

The schematics of hospitals like a birthmark in my brain,
born into sadness, a gut feeling as a child.
Never trusting time
due to what it delivers.

Death, being the only thing I desired.
But you, 
who I love,
endlessly-
robbed by it.
Whose ebb for life glowed so feverishly.
Stopped comparing depression to lace,
restricted the belief that suicide is poetic,
seeing things as they were.
More often than not, applauded for feeling emotions deeply.
Every second that dies, the shift of my heart quakes.

This world is not tender.

II. Sad.
I have known the flowers I wanted at my own premature funeral,
knowing how many bouquets honored you that day.

split open my veins like a dimension
reminiscent of days where I anticipated deathbeds.


My family wondered,
can we make it through another day?
Death scares me for what it has taken,
yet, I’m not afraid to die-
it’s all I deserve.
So I await the day pain erupts
from my throat,
acknowledging the days a soul
lived inside of my body-
footprints that walked,
belonging to me.

But I learned so well.
How to suffer with a smile,
dreading the beating of my heart
how unfair—
I don’t want to take these deep breaths
You deserved,while I masquerade as a member of the undead
Never outgrowing the desire to rot with the phantoms residing under my bed.


III. Jokes played by the universe.
punchlines delivered,
how could anyone to stand to be in the same room as myself?
How could anyone look over skyscrapers and sunsets,
and not be infatuated with concrete consuming them?
How I shared a sigh of relief during the thought-
of knowing people would thrive without me,
or the power of a belly laugh,
resembling a laugh track audience
drowning out 3 AM suicidal thoughts.
I wrote this in pink gel pen, maybe, that’s another joke.
 Oct 2018 Hannah Field
raphæl
my brain and my mind
bemuse my soul of its hole
make me look and it took
every chance of significance
do I ask or do I mask
to decide the inside?
flavor or fervor
compare or contrast
order or ardor
the first or the last
wrong or strong
right or tight
completed or depleted
the night or the light
listen or christen
painting or fainting
sarcasm or ******
feeling or failing
hang or bang
sore or soar
blade or aid
less or more
to slice or to rise
to pry or to fly
to live or to leave
to die or to try
This poem's form connects deeply to my insides, really. Having to choose between two objects or concepts without definite relationships in each line portrays my daily dealing with my own indecisions in life. Well, I hope you decide your insides.
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