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Laurel Leaves Aug 2017
So I focus on

the way his hands wrap around my throat

close my eyes, let the constant
Slip of white light
Allow my lips to grow numb

The pull at the end of my hair
skin crawling sensation
to the tips of my limbs
I howl
Laurel Leaves Aug 2017
I’d like to take you to this moment, it’s five in the afternoon and downtown Portland is quiet.

The sidewalks are cluttered with bodies silently moving,
sleepily dodging the sun
the sounds of sirens
doors slamming
cars braking for red lights
fill the lapses of time
I walk slowly through the crowd
reflections of sunlight jumping off tower windows
illuminating my elbow
three freckles on my forehead
my right knee
The space surrounding me smells strongly of burning tobacco
foods dipped in boiling oil
rich, dark coffee.


There’s a way my lungs jolted before and there’s way they do now.

The parachute of air running in and out
flexing like wings inside my chest.
How they used to flutter


how they once had a choreographed routine

                        designed around their sudden need jolt
                      
                                                  whenever they thought of being near lips


Now, in the shadows of concrete and plexiglass they remain following a newfound mundane routine
flapping their wings only to keep me upright
only to feed the world between my ears


I’d like you stand in this moment

                               wrap your fingers in the way loss pulls like a trigger

Wake you  up to the world where the towers finally fall
allow you to watch as they cascade towards you and feed each human instinct that follows, do you run?
Do you stand in fear?
I want you here in this moment alone
in your interpretation of a body

I want you to see the way I pull on you
the way I run from you
the way I stand
glued to the ground
as each wave washes over me

The way you came into my life anxious
the three seconds where the entire block is silent
and you can suddenly hear each and every single one of the vibrations your body makes
when no one is looking you in the eyes as they pass you by.

I don’t even know how bite into you
                                                          when you’re just the lapse in time

the five in the afternoon lull that manifests the slow
rhythmic pulsing of my heart
feeding only to keep me alive
the machine that clicks at every passing minute

                                                         I want you to crave the connection

the sounds of voices
the stem of a scream to grow inside your throat

                                                        let it consume you

the way it does me
a fear not of being alone, but never truly being seen
Laurel Leaves Aug 2017
Counter tops

Sterile, alcohol free sanitizer

Bare feet sweating

Sticking to the glassy

White porcelain floors,

Blood soaked rags in the trashcan

Peaking above the metal box

Sneaking looks

Mocking my pathetic state

The needle digs deeper into my right arm

Small plastic tubes tickling my shoulder as they

Crawl up to the small rack that

Follows me from room to room

The bag slowly dripping

Pushing weight

Bubbling inside my abdomen

The blurry molecules of light tickle the tips of my

static lips

my spine twisting

posture arching

Slowly I melt to an almost horizontal state

Craving a hand

The sensation of touch

To make an entrance

push the hair from my forehead

Or fingers to trace my back

And pull me upright

The flicker of fluorescent

While time perpetually lulls on

I do my best to grip onto reality

Drip

Into purgatory

Slipping from a sleep

“I’ll be home later”

I didn’t have time to grab shoes

He stayed in bed, peaceful,

didn’t even lift his head

Wiping away as I speed mercilessly towards the red lights

the rain slips through the cracks of the night

I let the four am turn into nine

And I wait for him

To make time.
Laurel Leaves Aug 2017
I think I have successfully found a way to avoid it all
Slamming my fist into the dashboard

The plastic cracks under my knuckles

I see your white lighter that fell

Years ago

rolling out from under the passenger’s seat

initials scratched in sharpie

I said when the tan line on my ring finger disappeared

I’d be over that stage of us

So I kept wearing rings on that finger







I see it in his eyes

The same loss that I felt

Creeping through me

As I claw for the delicate throws of normality

Fantasizing escaping

I wanted to break even

To orchestrate the great

Explain to the world

That I can hold fast

That I can find a sense of sanity that would last

All the while,
tying myself to the train tracks





I used to have this grip

I held it so tightly

promising myself that this mania

of prep meals

and daily runs

would sooth me

I said that the schedule is what will keep me

off the edge of the bridge

but it slipped under my head like a knife

followed me to bed nightly

singing the same trope of dependency



how they led me

I drank them in like their skin

was wine,

I sipped heavy gulps

and called them mine

leading down the same path

of sitting in the passengers seat of the car,

parked outside of our house

holding onto an old lovers lighter
Laurel Leaves Aug 2017
"I don't understand you seem so happy"

          "Didn't you go to school to learn how to deal with people  like me? I project what people want to see."  

                        "Yeah but look at you, you understand why you're acting this way, you can logically decipher it, you don't even need me sitting across from you taking notes or telling you what you need to do, you already know. But you still want to die. You still sit across from me every week with new scars, new stories and I want to help you but how do I help someone who already knows?"

                  "Ok, but that's my problem. I can logically see what is happening, I get it, I'm ******* depressed, we're all ******* depressed and we all die, and inevitably the happiness I feel will disappear and worse things will come my way ----
          and god forbid if worse things don't come my way, I'll live a meaningless, numb, long life. Doesn't that thought keep you up at night? Doesn't that just epically ******* up? It's all I can think about. And if I go home and finish the job I started 3 years ago and actually end it, I will have lived a short,unfulfilling life that left nothing on this planet I was proud of, except for the grief the people who love me will feel  
..........and well. I don't want that."


"Yeah, you're right."

"****. So what do I do?"

"You keep living and endure it."
Conversations with my therapist.
Laurel Leaves Aug 2017
We got in the car
And I said “head east”
He turned the car towards the desert
No questions asked

We wind through the smoke filled streets
While he pierced through me

Always joking that
He’d never be good enough
I laughed it off
Like he had any idea

Letting my eyes drift through the whirling
Sleep deprivation that

Feeling him provides
                                      
                                     Living provides

                                                                     Wanting to escape
                                                                      Always abides
Laurel Leaves Aug 2017
This is what it means to love myself
this is what it feels like to be resurrected from the depths of hell
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