Liz And Lilacs

Liz And Lilacs Sep 2015

Friends

He asked me about my scars...
And I could't answer,
filling the silence with
that disgust and fear welling up in my chest.
This would be the end of us.
That's how it always is.
You can fill cracks with gold,
you can paint over the streaks,
but it's not the same
and no one wants a broken girl.
Not even as friends like us.
but he just looked at me and said
You should know that you're perfect
and don't need any of that.
*...And you're feisty.

I've never known someone who can make me cry and laugh and feel so special like him.

Liz And Lilacs Sep 2015

I burn

I only create
so that I can destroy
and the love I so crave
burns when I hold it,
like the still smoldering ashes of my poetry
when I scooped them from the fire.
My hands are red
and it hurts to touch,
to be touched,
and maybe that's why
no on can love me
...because I burn them all

Liz And Lilacs Sep 2015

Love em and leave em

He held out his hand to me,
but when I reached for his support,
he let me fall.
He looked at me
eyes so cold,
his voice sharp, wounding
"I'm not here to help you."

Liz And Lilacs Sep 2015

I wasn't a home wrecker, just a heart breaker.

He was always my almost.
Always almost there,
always almost mine.
I loved him, always-
and he loved me, almost.

*I was almost her always.
Almost always there,
almost always hers.
I loved her, almost-
and she loved me, always.

Liz And Lilacs Sep 2015

Fire breather

If I could breath fire,
I'd inhale,
And never let it go,
Just to feel alive again,
Just to feel like I was burning
with passion like I used to.

Liz And Lilacs Sep 2015

What is red?

She was screaming again
but this time,
she wasn't going to stop.
It was red, she was red, agony.
Red tastes like blood on lips.
The roses have thorns
and I ooze red.
His voice is red,
sharp,
unforgiving.
Red is the crunch of autumn leaves
and fleeting memories,
but also the sound of anger,
and the metallic scent of spilled blood.
Her lips on my cheek,
a cherry stem on my tongue,
a papercut.
That is red.

Colors are hard

Liz And Lilacs Sep 2015

Shadows are not your friends

I can see the shadows.
No, not your shadow,
The shadows.
The ones that crawl up your spine,
leaving little bruises along your back.
The ones that wrap themselves around your mind
and whisper horrible things in your head.
Their tendrils reach out,
looking desperately for others,
wrap their inky, dangerous selves around your friends,
because when they consume you,
they'll need a new host.

you scare me