You are allowed to wake up
and still dream..
like how you allow yourself
and still breathe.
you gave me a word to hold onto
it got me through the night
felt nice for a while
but we both know this isn't right
keeping your distance is a crime
I know this by the hurt in my chest
someone's placed you here in front of
me as a torturing test
you've put a gun to my head and I'm asking to die
for the sake of being dead
what I would do for you to crawl out of her
and into my bed
I let different boys touch me
Because I wanted to know
Even for a second
What it felt like to be loved
Even if the love was cheap
And it tasted like ***
Like the punchline to a joke
I never got because it was me
I let different boys have different parts of me
Parts they didn't deserve
But I offered up willingly because I couldn't give anything else
after you broke me
I was looking for different fingers
to place different pieces and hoping the outcome
would be a masterpiece
Maybe one of them would find a way
to cover up the handprints you left all over me
I let different boys touch me because I had to prove to myself
you wouldn't be the only one
that these scars marking my body wouldn't define
my worth to be loved
I am not entirely sure
you aren't the only one who could ever touch me without slightly flinching
I let different boys touch me because that is all I have been taught
To be a joke
To be silent
To be ready to give until you have nothing left
- they keep leaving me and I am to scared to offer up anything more than my body to get them to stay
someone's in the next room over
having *** while we
what a way to mark the occasion
the day my fingers found a wound
you let someone else doctor
it's upsetting see
the bible in drawer next to us
the way our hands still
like the torn halves
of a love letter
the way you got
all dressed up like the rain
and how we couldn't tell
the difference in the shower
it was the longest hour and a half
the hot water wouldn't give up
so why should we
even though it was scalding
neither of us touched the ****
we knew this was supposed to hurt
a black mess against my shoulder
oil in the vinegar of your hands
the great divide
all the sobbing
a river runs through it
without the courage
to carry or **** us
so we step out
and drip dry
down to a mute breakfast
composed of quiet
and last nights liquor
as we came back in
there were people in our room
at first i thought them detectives
to see who had died here
i had forgotten this
was a hotel
and they were only
cleaning up after us
i wanted to stop them
that the sheets were still perfect
that if they clean the bathroom
no one will know
what happened here
someone has to remember
these cigarette burns
i will bury the faucet
let me take the tub
i don't care how
if i have to
i will drag it home by hand"
“Why did you stay?”
That’s always the first words out of everyone’s mouth… including my mothers.
They act as if you realize that it’s an act of treacherous hatred while you’re lying on the floor.
They don’t see the look in his eyes when he tells you
“I’m so sorry, it will never happen again. I love you so much.”…
They don’t feel his warm embrace he gives you while you’re trying to cover your bruises with makeup.
They don’t feel the isolation while you’re at home thinking of who you can go to.
They don’t feel the denial as your brain tells itself “All couples fight… its normal.”
They didn’t feel the gut wrenching pain in your stomach when you watched him with tears in his eyes as you finally found the strength to go.
And the first thing out of their mouths is… “Why did you stay?”
Take me away. I want to fly with my wounded heart. I want to scream with the stars. I want my tears to shine.
Take me away. I want to vanish like a sad song. Be oblivious like an unwanted memory.
Take me away. I want to walk with my bare feet. I want to dance with my breaking bones.
Take me away. I want to breathe in the smoke of the ice. I want to embrace the warmth of the fire.
Take me away, but I know you won't.
So I'll take away myself from you,
because you are not good for me anyway.
Some poems are not intended to heal old wounds
but to scorch them
for the pain is the only high we have left
that cares enough to hurt us
when you find yourself entangled in your own empty bed sheets
9 pm on a Tuesday and thinking of my velvet skin
when you begin to miss me and my wild thoughts and the way I never knew better than to speak them
keep it to yourself
don't you dare tell me about the way you turn over at 4 am and forget I'm not there to pull closer
don't call and say you wish you would've done things differently because God knows I gave you that chance
don't be selfish anymore
just let me be and let me believe you didn't care the way I always thought you did
One of the very rare times
that you hold me in your arms, of your own accord
I look into your eyes
and realize, in horror
that this is not enough.
you are not enough for me.
and that the hurt outweighs the laughter
and the shame outweighs our joy
and for all my tears -
every fear -
you are no longer
and have never really been
my beautiful boy.