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 May 2015 Jaelene C
LN
Poison
 May 2015 Jaelene C
LN
You are a type of poison
I wouldn't mind drinking.
It would burn my fragile throat
but I don't think anything
has struck me as hard
as what I feel for you.
I’ve tattooed a line across
the veins of my wrist
and marked a down stroke
for every time
“you can’t wear red lipstick”
made me believe
I never wanted to in the first place.

for every time instead
I’ve stained my lips with cherries
learning how to tie the stems
so I can slip forget-me-knots
to the back of your throat—
do you feel my restriction now?

the razors that fly off my tongue
perk thorns on my skin,
another down stroke on my wrist
will teach me that
you were right,
shyness is a virtue.

no need to speak,
go spend one hundred dollars
and some percent for tax
to cover up,
even though I’m sure your mother told you
that cotton stains.

so make it black.
get your hair stuck
in the zipper of that sundress
and pray as you pull it out
that it will lose its pigmentation
in the process
mark a down stroke
for killing two flowers
for one bouquet.

hold it
close your eyes and throw it back,
I know we shouldn’t be wearing white anyway
but tradition can take a lot out of you
like what you really think—
don’t say **** in public.

instead drag your first impressions
all the way to the altar
and dress in your Sunday best
a flower on your lapel
clear on your lips
a stroke for the neat decline
of the son

I tattooed a line across
the veins of my wrist
and marked a down stroke
for every time
my image
was my fault.
I wish someone had told me
he was just a silly child
an empty vessel of a man
a selfish psychopath
a boy blinded by love
who lusted for control
who craved every bloodied part of me

I wish I could tell him
that the thought of his touch
makes me feel ill
makes me feel *****
makes me feel naked

I wish he had loved me properly
from the beginning
the way a man should
with tender kisses and
even softer words

I wish I had left him
10 days in
3 weeks in
when he said "I love you"
when he hung up the phone
when I hung up the phone
when I forgot how to laugh
when I had my first anxiety attack
or the second one
or the third

*I wish I didn't love him
.......But I do
 May 2015 Jaelene C
nicole smith
Loving you was like jumping off the stool to hang yourself, just to find that once both feet are in the air, the rope has disappeared.
suicide paradox
 May 2015 Jaelene C
nicole smith
It isn't you that's making me cry.
It's the song I'm listening to.
It isn't you that's making think.
Because (I) never did love you.

It isn't you that broke my heart.
It's the (want) for you to be here.
It isn't you that keeps me awake
It's me swallowing down my fears.

It isn't you that makes my heart beat
(It)'s the thrill of being adored.
It isn't you that makes me tremble.
It's the thought of being ignored.

It isn't you that makes me write.
It's (to) the feeling you now control.
It isn't you that makes me ache.
It's the happiness that you stole.

It isn't you that makes me stress
It's the work that still has to (be) done.
It isn't you that makes me miserable.
It's the knowing that you aren't the one.

It isn't you, It isn't you.
You weren't the one that was made for me.
It isn't you, won't ever be (you).
No matter how much I wanted it to be.
Another poem you'll never see.
i don't remember loving anyone this hard
i don't remember caring this much
i don't remember it hurting this much
i don't remember this many butterflies
i don't remember loving anyone as much as i love you

(i don't remember signing up for this)
 May 2015 Jaelene C
Jane
I waited
 May 2015 Jaelene C
Jane
Sometimes I wonder,
The times we would've been together.

I picture you and I,
On Sundays by the beach in the cold weather.

I imagine us,
Stargazing at night with me in your arms tighter.


But I waited and waited.
Every inch of every hour,
On steps to your front door,
In portraits I drew of you,
On benches we sat in parks,
At classes we used to have,
Through wretchedly rainy days,
Under my blankets late at night,
In my sleepless nights of dreams,
Right to the places you've sang to me,
Left to the days you were still with me.


But you left.
You were gone.
You were never coming back.
Because I watch you lay there,
With your hands so still,
buried underground.
To death
 May 2015 Jaelene C
Julia
The full moon light glows upon
insomniatic eyes
Bodies' shadows fall upon
dampening grass
As bare feet beat and
leave their marks
On the soft earth, with
souls brought to life
Under the gleaming sun kissed moon
in the spirit of that summer night.
*jm
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