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Mol Nov 2018
when my father smoked,
i was a child.
terrified by every inhale.
the thought of his tar riddened lungs was unbearable.
but he was a lost cause,
long lost to the tar stained tobacco on a stick.
I would clutch my teddy in the back seat of the car,
fearful that my lungs may ingest such vile and villainous fumes.

when I smoked I was a teen,
dragging on the stick I once feared so much.
inhaling and exhaling as if my life depended on it.
I recalled the fear of a child's eyes, myself.
so afraid of death and toxicity
but now, seventeen,
I had long forgotten my childhood wish to stay alive,
to grow up
because I had.
and while doing so had learned that life is bleak.
my tar stained lungs don't horrify me like my father's did,
they push me further,
smoking faster and harder until I may become a small pile of grey and cremated ash kept carefully within a decorated vase upon a mantle piece,
an ash tray of sorts.
Mol Dec 2018
soft white petals
slowly open with the sun
its rays and warmth pleads
the wary flower to trust
and reluctantly it does
and yellow yellow yellow
greets the sun

I wish to be the sun and one day see the yellow of your heart
Mol Dec 2018
when you touch me,
imaginary insects flutter through my being,
my belly almost bursts with the overwhelming sensation.
when you smile,
the butterflies can't stay still,
they fly around my body, fluttering and floating as they soar in circles within my fragile frame.
sometimes it feels like there are thousands, ready to rupture through my skin and swarm around you, they seem quite fond.
and it feels like they've always been there,
perhaps once caterpillars, as all butterflies start,
cocooned inside a chrysalis within the depths of my heart.
until one day, I met you and they bloomed like spring flowers, springing from cocoons,
their petal wings spread and created an unique feeling of simultaneous warmth and nervousness.
you said you feel them too, the improbable insects deep below your skin, within your core.
does this mean we're in love,
or just friends with butterflies?
Mol Feb 2019
I tip toe on the frozen grass,
each blade encased
in a shell of frost,
preserved in a tiny terrarium
of its own.

and I feel only guilt when it shatters beneath my feet,
like breaking glass
of empty bottles of green.
snapping each leaf out of its miniscule shell of cold and beauty.

and the sun's rays hit as my accomplice in this hateful crime.
each ray envious,
make their way to melt the frozen wonders.
and the grass cries with tears
of ice cold water,
each dripping down its faceless being.

and before others have awoken to as witness
all evidence is washed away.
melted, it seeps into the hardened ground.

now a secret that must be kept
between me and the golden sun.
Mol Dec 2022
Be a good citizen to the world -
You owe it,
You owe it to the world.
Your time,
Your mind,
You soul,
Your body,
Your life -
You owe it to the world.
Well ******* take it -
My life.
Or let me take it?
No!
Cannot take it -
Must be a good citizen to the world.
Give it away -
Its not yours to take.
Mol Apr 27
I pined for this
I yearned for this
But empty
I feel hollow
Undeserving and unwanted
You say 'i love you'
But I don't feel it
I feel like an obligation
Perhaps I can't feel loved
Or perhaps there isn't any to feel
We don't know what's best for us
Mol Mar 2021
Your voice echoed in my mind
words you never even spoke.
Things so cruel and so unkind,
In your exact inflection and tone.

It grew louder in the silence,
Mocked my insecurities and fears
and when faced with my defiance
It just drummed louder in my ears.

I became so used to these words
That one's from your lips seemed so false.
I lost all trust in what I heard
From outside my mind's own walls.

I thought I was a mind-reader
And I could read you like a book.
But now that it's all over
I know my own mind was the crook.
Self sabotage is a *****
Mol Apr 2020
You float high
and I reach.
On tippy toes,
with painted nails
For you.

Stretched and strained,
each muscle aches.
Fingers pointed,
back straight.
Still, not enough to reach you.

A subtle breeze
and I crumble and curl,
falling back into myself,
a safety net of sorrow.
So familiar,
It was once a home.
Four walls, no roof.

And from here,
I stare up at you.
But the moon and stars
are all I see.

Sun,
you've left me once again.
Mol Dec 2018
But not 'I love you.'
Any three, comforting, kind
yet cruel words other than 'I love you.'
because I love you has been tainted,
tainted with the distant cries of
in love with you.
Of the connotations
and the the lack of patience
that is;
'I'm in love with you'.
'Cause I love you was no longer casual, no longer friendly nor comfortable.
I love you was filled with
'why? why? why?'
and 'why nots?'
and kisses
shhh
not kisses -
not lips,
not touch,
not soft,
no whispers.
No 'I love yous,'
no 'I love you toos,'
just 'I'm here for yous'
and 'you're important to mes.'
And the painstakingly similar;
'I need you'
'I need you too.'
But not love,
never love.
Even in the midst
of a warm embrace,
or the brush of a hand upon a face -
no I love yous could be found in this place,
Not here.
Just confusion,
uncertainty, and fear
Mol Mar 2019
long painted finger nails
scratch the surface of my skin,
slowly peeling off each translucent layer.
Fingers curl and grip
as she reaches my core.
In a writhing wave of bliss -
we fall and crumble to the sheets.
Skin snaps back
to arms laid beneath her
and gently caress the torn back skin.
She looks up at me with echoed eyes
and she is no longer mine.
me being too emotionally attached for one night stands
Mol Sep 2023
You smiled and shot a pine needle aimed for my heart
Left me winded and wounded and small
Splinters splattered through my veins
The chambers all blocked and punctured.
But I'm not dead, just agonised
Left pining over you
But this time I know it won't **** me
I've learnt this before and I know I'll be fine
The small splinter is heartbreaking and shattering
But it will mend itself, it always does
I'll just try to be okay until then.
Mol Apr 2020
A flick of flint creates a flame
which dances still upon your face.
'Til wind pours in and fills this place
and fires quench leaving no trace.

You click again with furrowed brows
and silence then - you're counting down.
The orange embers as you inhale,
Your fingers tremble and shadows pale.

Grey ashes fall, each taking turn
Smoke climbs the wall as we both burn.
I catch a glance of steady eyes
lost in a trance of midnight skies.

I turn to watch but see no stars
Just sky - pitch black and clouds of tar.

- Mollie Keech
Mol Dec 2022
Oh, hello itch,
I've not missed you!
Nor your pleading, uneasy,
Eager smile,
Wicked begging eyes,
And hungry open mouth.
I've quite enjoyed this past while,
Lacking your insistent whispers.
Your lustful face
Looming round each corner of my boxed up,
Broken brain -
'FRAGILE - Do Not Break'
Ignored by the world -
Allowing you unforced entry,
You made a home
Hidden in the shadow
Of my unconscious darkness.
Fitfully coming to light
To remind me
Of yours and therefore my own;
Plea to die.
Mol Mar 2022
So few hear my voice,
too meek and mild -
my words lack echo.
Unworthy of its repetition.

One by one,
they simply roll downward,
tumbling from my lips
toward the hardened ground.
They permeate
like the softest rain,
eagerly engulfed by parched soil.

Or like tears
quietly falling
into heavy, soaked cotton.
Each burst smaller than the last
until it's wrung out.
I will not disturb, I cannot.

But sometimes,
ever so rarely,
some words escape the fall.
And just before they hit the ground,
and splash,
someone will hear.
Shocked - I spill them.
All the words I have,
each sentence I can assemble
And have so desperately longed to utter.

It happens so rarely
that when it does,
I often mistake being heard
for love.
Mol Apr 2023
Today I miss you
Or perhaps the touch of warm skin upon my own
Both feelings intertwine in my heart
Dance around like our fingers interlaced
One did not exist without the other
And I could never discern
Whether I liked you
Or your touch upon my skin
Mol Mar 2019
yellow sun,
who made me feel free.
knowing freedom is one thing I crave more than love,
so you gave me both in yellow tissue gift wrap
with beautiful ribbons and twine.
I still keep them,
within my drawer
and yellowed heart.
so if you did return,
I would once again fall into our dream,
of perfect paradise I only ever felt with you.
Mol Nov 2018
people come into your life and grow on you like wild flowers.
sometimes they grow upon your skin, present but not deep,
others will grow so so so far down, their roots will rupture your skin and wrap themselves around your brittle bones.
eventually growing through the vena cava of your heart, reaching deep inside the vital chambers.

and these people, no matter how hard you may try,
you cannot rid them from your heart,  they will always be there, growing deep inside of it,
feeding off the oxygen in your blood. even their flowers and foliage may wither with time but their roots will always exist, the blood from your heart running through them.

you will never cease to love these people,
for to pull out the roots of these flowers would rip your entire heart out of your chest,
and though that might hurt less than the roots these people may leave,
the only possible result is death.
Mol Dec 2022
Tumbling toward the station
glossy eyed and weak
hands murmur a cold hum
as they redden
self piteous and cynical
bare by no fault but my own.

A shimmer and I pause
magpie glassy eyes
small blades of glistening grass
I stop the music and return
to hear the frost crunch as I pick up
and I revel in the sound
to try to convince myself to stay alive.
you
Mol Nov 2018
you
I'm sat in silence across from you as you take the first drag of your cigarette.
exhale.
I mirror your actions, inhaling sharply as the pain hits my heart and it sinks down
down
down.
your smoke and my sorrow mingle somewhere near the pit of my stomach.

I watch you closely, following every movement as if I could miss something vital to the plot of a film.
you turn your head and catch my stare and I almost whisper
i missed you,
dear god,
i missed you.
Mol Nov 2018
I hear you crying in the room upstairs
and your tears begin to drip through the cracks of the ceiling.
I try to swim through them to save you
but I begin to drown.
I cannot help you,
I cannot comfort you,
only drown in your sorrows.

— The End —