I am shocked that I am here.
Look at this flesh, so thin
So pale
So brittle
Like an eggshell- cracked.
It seems so easy to crush
And yet
You'd never guess the blows it has taken
Without crumbling.
I wonder if I'd be respected if my injuries showed on the outside.
I wonder if I'd be feared.
There is a point when pity turns to fear, you know- when the thought is spawned that something SHOULD be dead, and isn't.
A mistrust forms,
An uneasiness.
I feel it sometimes when I look too long into my own eyes in the mirror
And see flashes in their depths: all the silvery memories of pain
Like little fish, like little blades.
I feel disquieted at the notion
That I can hold a sea of suffering
And sigh out only sweetness.
It's not that suffering has sewn no cruelty inside me-
Quite the opposite, it has been a spark caught on the breeze, and something hot and dark
Rages in here nearly all the time.
But only in here.
I have seen too many hurt souls
Hurt others
And I refuse to do the same.
And although it is extraordinary that I am not ground to dust by the blows landed from outside
What I am truly surprised about is that I have not been shattered
From in here.
I am crueler than most people you've met
But only to myself.
Only inside.
I am like a paper lantern-
All flames inside and soft glow out.
And I refuse to hurt you. I refuse to. That is my revenge upon everyone
Who has ever been cruel to me:
It ends here.
Now.
With me.
I will not let it out, not even if it damns me.
I am shocked that I am here.

It terrifies me
How easy it is to live without you.
That's the real reason
I try so hard to keep you close.
It doesn't make sense to me that this love
Could cool so.
That's why I cling.
That's why I panic.
That's why
I try
So hard.
I can't let you forget me
But worse
The worst
I can't let me
Forget you.
You left.
You left and it mattered.
You left and I grew without you
I learned without you
I became
Without you.
You left.
And although I fear that
Fear you
What I am... so much more afraid of
Is this:
Last year
You taught me
That you are
Unnecessary.
And I didn't want to know.

because i believed you
because i never realized how brown your eyes really were until i had the courage to stare
because you told me you were happier this way
because i don't feel suicidal when i'm with you
because you wanted me to meet your mother
because you never ask me what's wrong
because you don't care about anything
because i wanted to know what would happen
because i was too scared to ask
because ******* for leaving the first time
because i love you for coming back
because you only ever touch me when you're drunk
because his lips didn't feel like yours
because he made me laugh but not the way you could
because of 3 am nights with you are all i want to remember
because 3 am nights without you sit in the middle of my chest like a boulder
because my father warned me
because i can't do it anymore
because i can't do it anymore

right now there are eleven empty containers of alcohol in my bedroom,
but it's fine, i'm fine.
i've been telling myself for more than a year
that i wasn't going to write anymore sad ****** poems about you,
but here we are.
most days i'm sure i don't miss you,
but then i listen to the wrong song,
and before i know it -
i'm screaming along to band of horses in the dark,
stalking your twitter favorites,
and somehow,
i've managed to get snot on my forehead.
yeah, nostalgia is an *******
but not all the memories sting.
there was that one time we went to the movies
and i slipped on some ice and fell flat on my ***.
i just sat there while you took a picture.
but i'm glad we could laugh about it.
i'm glad we were comfortable.
in my head, we still are.
in my head, we're oversized-goodwill-sweater comfortable.
we aren't as comfortable in real life
but i'm glad we still laugh.
this is the part where i don't bring up the time you told me
my laughter could cure your sadness,
because i'm pretty sure i already put that in another poem,
and it makes me really ******* sad.
did i ever tell you i used to play guitar and piano?
i loved them, but i never tried very hard.
i wanted to be good without having to practice.
i wanted to be good without having to practice.
i wanna meet the girl you write about
so i can ask her how she manages not to love you back.
because i've tried everything & i am so tired.
i forgot this wasn't supposed to be a sad poem.
i'm not good at happy anyway,
i never have been.
but in your absence i've learned a lot about softness.
so if i ever find myself back in your passenger seat,
i won't correct you when you sing the wrong lyrics,
i won't ask why when you take the long way home.
i won't ask you why you don't have your seatbelt on,
i'll just say a silent prayer
and watch for signs that you might be about to swerve.
right now there are eleven empty containers of alcohol in my bedroom,
and i didn't find you at the bottom of a single one.

- m.f.

The well runneth dry
Words like sludge
Are painfully excreted
Through thickened and broken skin
Gone is the peace from this place
All semblance of sanctuary
Eradicated by derisive battles
Of witless wonders
Still, words try to flow
The beauty in freedom gone
The art in emotion
Hindered by fear of judgment
Joy erased to distant memory
Gone are the days of unbound expression
Missed are the times of universal acceptance
Words seeking approval are skewed
Honesty is painful
Truth is rare
Their union is all I know
And it is a  punishable offense

He is a Fried Egg Jellyfish,
nonetheless he was ignorant
Always pushing things on me
He never considered feelings
Like the Phacellophora camtschatica
his sting is rather weak.
But that doesn't seem to explain
why it took me so long to see
that he was only after one thing.
-
She is a Pacific Sea Nettle
Glowing; always and forever.
I embrace her light even when
I'm feeling smothered.
She is amazing in many ways
But could become dangerous
in a matter of days.
Just like the Chrysaora fuscescens,
She is made of many colors.
Which is why I can't stop looking at her.
-
He is a Purple Striped Jelly
One of the most painful out of these
Oh sweet, Chrysaora colorata,
he truly stung me.
So beautiful inside and out
I should've looked but never touched
I just wanted to be his cancer crab,
but I never was one..
I was the ocean sunfish biting back.
-
He is a Golden Jellyfish
Beautifully mysterious as always
I want to dive straight into him
As I would the lake that the smack lives in.
Very similar to the lake
he is full of golden aspects
that I long to intake.
He hasn't stung me yet,
So why should I ponder mistakes?
He'll always be stuck inside of my head.

His thoughts are colours,
His hands are brushes,
And he touches me
Quite artistically.


-- Eleanor

If distance
Separates two's amour;
Then it never was amour at all.




©Brandon nagley
©Lonesome poet's poetry