Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Skyla 5d
Is it love, or is it lust?
When he speaks, or when he thrusts?

How much of your beloved trust
Was given forth, was it just?
He desires it, you know you must

Is it love when he plays with your hair?
Or when he grabs you lustfully, and not gentle and fair?

Is it love when your body says no, but you say yes?
And he leaves you in the bed feeling full of regret?

You’re afraid to deny, you’re afraid to reject
So you go to sleep, in hopes your body will reset

Is he soft, is he warm, is he kind?
Does he only love your body, or does he also love your mind?

Are you a plaything, are you a toy, are you a precious dolly for your boy?
Is it something you enjoy?

Is it love or is it lust?
Will you ever say “I’ve had enough!”
Girls, Boys, all humans, you deserve better if you’re in a relationship like this <3
Skyla Nov 16
Burn the poet at the stake!
Watch him wither, writhe, and ache!
Let the earth roar and shake!
Destroy the words the poet makes!
Beat him with his metaphors, watch him break!

Carve his own words into his skin
Repeat back to him his dark, self-confessed sins
Make sure to keep his monsters in
If they’re unleashed, they might just win

Destroy the pens, destroy the ink
Destroy his brain so he cannot think
Erase his mournings, marked with his name
Send him off to death row, declare him insane

Accuse him of blasphemy against society
Despite this all, he’ll preserve his propriety  

Take him down, down with with his fame
Grab your torches, ignite the flame
Don’t let him speak, don’t play the poet’s game
His actions and words cannot be tamed

He’s a danger, he’s a threat, he must be beaten
Feed him to the gods, let him surely be eaten
The troubled and the sad, think of him as victorious, but they can’t see that he’s certainly notorious!

How dare he **** people with his very words
They shall never be spoken, never be heard
Are they false? Are they truth? It doesn’t matter anymore!  
Don’t listen to his ramblings, don’t let him implore

**** the poet! He must be burned!
His words are disgusting, albeit right,
Oh, how the tables have turned...

Bury his papers underneath the dirt
His words, they moved us, unforgivingly, so much it hurt...
Skyla Nov 10
I was once in love with my illness.
I loved the sound of my hunger pains
The only thing that made me feel sane
I loved the way my bones started to show
and the lightness of the scale when the numbers dropped low

I loved it when another day was done
I loved the way how I could run
Burn off my calories, burn of my feelings,
I’m a girl of beauty, not a girl of healing
Run away from reality and my individuality
Run away from my emotions, run away from all of my fear
Starving so hard until I’m numb, and incapable of shedding a tear

But the aches crept up my spine
And I no longer felt powerful and fine
And soon the overbearing pain begun
I shivered in cold underneath the sun
I spoke with sharp knives in my throat
I made a blood pact, swore an oath
I tried to walk, I couldn’t go far
Every time I stood up, I saw a thousand stars
Insomnia and intrusive thoughts kept me awake
I thought of all the foods I could’ve ate
The nightmares began, where I stuffed my face
And my willpower for thin, just turned to hate

So I grabbed a knife, and set things right
I shredded my skin in the silence of night
The warm blood heated up my frozen skin
The voices all smiled and whispered “you win”

“You’re almost there, dead girl”
“You’re nearly on top of the whole wide world”

I loved and I lost, embedded in the frost
I fell to the floor, while the demons begged me for more
I put on a show, with all the evil that I know,
They soaked in my bones and sat on their throne

I withered to nothing, and now I wait to fade
I don’t love this anymore, now I’m just afraid
Skyla Nov 5
I would be wearing your favourite dress, and the wind would mess up my hair.  

I’d see the outline of your figure in the distance, and my heart would beat a thousand times a minute.  

I would be stuck between running as fast as I can and embracing you fiercly, or standing there in shyness and nervousness, but staring deeply and intently into your eyes.

You’d be the brightest firefly that glistens and glows in my eyes, and I’d be a little bluebell butterfly flapping her wings with joy.  And together we make brightness, radiance, beauty, and grace

And I’d look at you, **** in a deep, shaky breath, but no matter how much air I try to inhale-nothing would ease the beauty I’m taking in.  

I wouldn’t even scan your body, I’d go straight for your eyes.  And that smile.  And to hear you speak words in person.

And we would walk in the park, analysing and observing everything like us poets do, from the way the trees sway in the wind to how gently the water flows; to the flowers and the birds and the colour of the sky.

We’d sit in silence and let our thoughts and our hearts communicate to each other’s souls.  We’d watch the sun slowly set and sink deeper and deeper below, turning from a passionate orange to bronze, to deep and mystical hues of pink and purple.  

We’d call it art, poetry, but in reality I’d be comparing you to the sunset and deciding that you may just be more of a beautiful sight.  

And maybe the next morning we’d meet and watch the sun turn from a lavender purple to a periwinkle blue- to a deeper and happier blue, watching the clouds part from one another and the golden sun glisten in the sky.

And once again, we’d watch while I compare you to it, and realise that once again, I can’t compare you to anything because you would always be the winning factor.   But I do it anyway, just so I can think of you.  

And your voice would be the most beautiful melody that I would ever hear, and I’d replay your voicemails and videos over and over again, a lullaby that would lull me to sleep, a voice to ease my pain, a voice to make me less scared of the monsters in the dark, a voice to make me laugh when I feel sad.

When I close my eyes and listen to you talk, my world becomes peaceful and nothing seems scary anymore.  And I imagine that voice coming closer, your presence, until I can hear you whisper so closely in my ear, sending shivers down my spine, telling me secrets or any silly little thing.

And I’d run my fingers through your hair, observing the fluffiness and the softness.  And I’d let you run your fingers through mine.

And our first kiss would be magical.  I don’t think I would ever regret it, I don’t think I would ever get enough.  I’d replay that special memory in my mind every day, longing to go back and experience it again.  Because nothing is more beautiful than the first time you lay eyes on someone, and when you kiss them for the very first time.

I’d drink my cup of coffee and leave a lipgloss stain on the rim of the cup, and we’d joke about things and occasionally sit in silence and just look at each other, sweetly and serenely.  

And if the night ever came where we decided to undress more than our souls, that would live in my heart forever.   We’ve already exposed every inch, every crevice, every depth of our souls, raw, naked, stripped down to the bone, to each other.  Completely bare hearts,  **** emotions.  So with our skin, that wouldn’t ever make us quiver with fear.  To see every inch, physically and internally, would be the greatest desire of desires.

You ask me to dance, and you take my hand in yours and run your thumb along the bumps of my knuckles and the lines on my palms, feeling and examining the very hands that write, and touch, and hold.  Your hands, warm and soft, slow the fast-paced rhythm of my heart, and suddenly everything isn’t so scary.  In fact, nothing could be scary with you by my side.

The glow of the lights bounce around the room, glistening and gleaming with our every move, keeping up with the beat.  I step on your feet a couple of times, apologising for being so clumsy.  
Our favourite song comes on and the aura changes;
I stare intently at your chest, as looking into your eyes would be too nerve-wracking- but alas, I bravely decide to look up.  I feel vulnerable and insecure, wondering why you look at me the way you do when I clearly don’t see myself to be so beautiful.

Your eyes glitter and swirl with emotion, and the colour reminds me of autumn leaves on a crisp, November morning.  The way your eyelashes curl, the crinkle of your brow, the bridge of your nose, your smile lines, the little lines on your pink lips, your chin, everything is an art form.  

There would be nothing better in that moment, in the entire world, than being close to you.  I would feel like the luckiest and happiest girl in the world.

And I lean in and lay my head on your shoulder, my arms around your neck, and I study your breaths, the hums and the vibrations of your heart.

Our heartbeats align and follow each other, and I can feel the softness of your breath, as your chest gently rises up and down, and I wonder how you could ever want that to cease. The way you breathe is beautiful.  

And I’d say, “do you remember the night we met? Take me back.  Take us back there.”

And we’d close our eyes and reminisce the time we accidentally stumbled upon each other, me in the depths of boredom looking for a human being to talk to, and you making something for fun, without realisation that this could ever happen.

The best accident I ever made was finding the most beautiful human somewhere that you would least think of.

He is the northern wind, fallen leaves on an autumn night.  He is Saturn.  He is Apollo.  He is Venus.  He is everything in between.  The arms of the moon in the sky.  I will wrap myself around his heart, be the wall of his heart.  The light to call him back home.  

But for now we’re still young.  I want to build a kingdom with you.

In one kiss, you’ll know all I haven’t said.  

To kiss like the world is ending tomorrow and you want to commit the taste of our mouthes to our soul’s memory.

Let’s just lay together and forget the world.
I hope he forgives me after seeing this
Skyla Nov 5
I could’ve been anyone’s ghost, but I wanted to be yours.  I had to be yours.

And when I left to mourn the loss of my old self which whom I had abandoned, I tore a piece of my soul and threw it away, which would soon cause it to unwind.
Slowly, then all at once.  A single loose thread and it all comes undone

If only you knew
The sunlight shines a little brighter
The weight of the world's a little lighter
The stars lean in a little closer
All because of you

There is color deep within your eyes,
A history that only you and I could write, and to feel your fingers, your utmost softness, and gentleness, would heal all of my wounds in an instant.  

If I had only felt the warmth within your touch
If I had only seen how you smile when you blush
Or how you curl your lip when you concentrate enough
Or the way your eyes squint when you smile

Time moves so slow with you.  It’s ethereal-like, almost ghostly.  Dreamy.  Everything feels so dream-like with you.

I’ve waited a hundred years for something
But I’d wait a million more for you
Your heart is the most beautiful thing about you
And there could never be enough passionate intimacy to express how beautiful I think it is.  
I can show you, I can write you, I can speak, but nothing I write can truly capture the effervescent beauty that you are.

You’re my northern lights, Keith.  No photograph, or poem, could ever come close to describing your blossoming art-form.

To believe in the ghost of unbroken love is something that soulmates do.  If I had only felt how it feels to be yours.  

I am so sorry I left our boat, to sink, to fall apart and drown until it hits the very depths of the ocean.  I could never forgive myself for that.

Someone once told me “be careful who you give your midnights to”.  And I would never take back a single second that I spent talking to you.  I want to give you my midnights for a thousand more years.  And my 2ams, my 3ams, my 4ams.  I want to give you my mornings.  Not my sorrowful mournings.

I hope that this explains everything, for I couldn’t think of anything more powerful to explain why I let our boat sink than to write a poem.

Poems are just words until it reaches the one you love.
Nov 5 · 57
Melt into me
Skyla Nov 5
Melt in to me, love, with your gentle hands
Like warm, Moroccan golden sand

Your crystalline, azure blue eyes
Collide with mine
Your sienna brown hair, I can’t help but stare
The curves of your lips rewrite history.

You are the Forest, and I am the sea
You’re vast and mysterious, and I’m dark and deep

You’re gossamer frame, your body is a sculpture
You hold me in the night to protect me from vultures..

You carve your words into me, like your Michelangelo and I’m something holy and pure
I’m your marble nymph, engraved without fear

We met on a crisp autumn day, in mid-October
You came just as quickly as my old love was over
You dried up my tears, and told me I’m pretty
You said one day we will leave, and abandon this city

Your eyes, river-like and cyan, exotic, wanderlust beauty, nocturnal and fierce, you are Bryan

My swan-lake heart melts in your grip
Let’s run out of this town and leave on a trip
For Norway or Iceland and sail the seas of seven
I will walk through hell with you, just to get a taste of your heaven
For Bryan ♥️
Nov 5 · 45
Skyla Nov 5
The moon is beautiful
She’s silver and bright
She’s full and round
And ignites the night
She’s yellow and crescent
The wolves worship and howl
And the shadows of monsters that creep and prowl
She gives you light, reflecting off the trees
She’ll make you give blood, she’ll bring you to your knees

She misses the sun
She longs for the warmth and the heat
But those blazing summer days, left her exhausted and beat

Her craters are beautiful
And she’s friends with the stars
She appears fairly close
But she’s pretty **** far

She makes the dark go away
Make you less afraid
Of what lurks in the night
Oh, what a sight!

And by morning she dies,
Across the sky she flies,
Merely missing the sun, when it comes up to rise.
Nov 4 · 46
Do you adore me yet?
Skyla Nov 4
There are ghosts that tiptoe around my bedroom
I feel haunted, I feel unwanted

The phantoms sing me to sleep
Whisper sweet comforts while I try not to weep
Brave girls don’t cry,
So they dry the tears from my eyes
And take me to dreamland and sedate me with lies

I don’t feel pretty, I feel scared
Do you adore me, yet?

I feel cold underneath the sun
I can never slow down, I only run
I run from the light, I run from life
I run from the wolves in my mind that bite

I loved and I lost, I’m stuck in the frost
I miss the affection, I crave the attention
But at the same time, I want to hide away
Away from everything, and the light of day
I ache for a love that can fill me up
Make me full, curb my hunger

Eating means nothing if I was devoured by love
Food could not fulfil me, or thrill me,
but only burn me and chill me,,
And I wish someone could love me so I do not have to.

I don’t feel strong, I feel horrified
Do you adore me, yet?

If only I could ignore the ghosts in my stomach
That creep up toward my throat, crawling out of my mouth, and blinding my vision and making my decisions and whispering things that give me nightmares.

Hold me, please hold me, I need someone to hold me, I’m scared, I’m sad, I’m cold, I’m stuck, and I can feel my bones, and I don’t feel proud anymore I feel horrified.

I don’t feel brave, I feel terrified, there’s a winter in my bones.
I will never be ok again, when you used to be my warm home.
Skyla Nov 3
You could **** me if you could.
Go ahead,  I think you should.

Don’t think about my frightened eyes
Focus on your breaths, drown out my cries  

Raise your rifle and shoot me twice
Or better yet, grab your sharpest knife

Love me, hate me, please sedate me
I can’t be awake or I’ll go crazy

Wrap your hands around my neck
Don’t give up, don’t take a rest
I’ll make sure to wear your favourite dress
Why say no, when you can say yes?

Bury me in the hazy fields,
Don’t think, don’t speak, don’t cry, don’t feel
Leave me to rest, in a hole of emptiness

Or better yet, stuff me with cotton
And sew buttons over my eyes
Stitch my mouth shut
So the phantoms of me can’t scream or cry
Prop me up on your shelf like a haunted doll
But the ghosts I brought will claw at your walls
And seep into your head
And soak in your brain
Then you’ll know what it truly feels like to go insane.

You killed me like you should.
I always knew you would.

From the first day I saw you, it flashed in your eyes.
To continue to love would be a tragedy and end in my demise.
This is an old one I decided to repost
Nov 3 · 77
The breath of life
Skyla Nov 3
The first breath of life, is not when you enter this world.
It is when your eyes have opened, and you have truly breathed the crisp and cool air of the damp earth.  

Observed.  Inhaled.  Touched.  Heard.  Seen. Tasted.  Felt.  

Keep your sons and daughters safe, do not raise them to become wolves that hunger for the weak, the soft, or the innocent.  

Boys and girls stuck in snow, embedded in the frost, can never escape the unforgiving thickness of winter.  Trapped under the ice, merely cracking it by shrieking loud enough, but not enough to break it completely.  

Forgive the winter children for dying with the cold, and bitterly weeping for the ones bathing in spring.

Just because you were abandoned in winter, does not mean you can so fiercely steal the warm floral spring from the golden girls and oak boys.  

Suffering in hell for years is worth a glimpse, worth a casual stroll in the gardens of heaven.
Skyla Oct 7
I found someone new
Who will keep me safe, keep me warm
He won’t search for more, he won’t break my heart

I am enough, one girl to hold tight
He won’t draw blood, or terrify me in the night
He won’t give me a fright, he’ll shine even more bright,
And I am enough to keep him satisfied (this time)

My old ghost lover went through girls like shoes
They quickly get old, so he finds someone new
I managed to last 3 short, summer months
He made me believe, our love was built on trust
He worshiped the moon, I called him the sun
I should’ve listened when they all told me to “run”
Run, run far away, as fast as you can
So he can’t catch you, the blood-obsessed man
He tried to take my heart, and **** out the life
And swore to me that one day I’d be his wife

He didn’t love me for me, just like the others
He was looking for someone to care, like a sympathetic mother
One to guilt trip, manipulate, cry on, and harm
Planting shameful seeds, burying me with the weeds, on his vast farm

He howled like a wolf, to the silver-lined crescent
He caught a glimpse of a gullible girl, saw me as iridescent
He sliced up his hand, to make blood pact
And threatened to jump off a cliff, for his grand finale act  
A blood oath, blood wife, romantic blood bath
Strangling me with his love, I can feel the hatred and wrath

He loves to choke, to suffocate, to squeeze
Just for the thrill of it, and begs on his knees
Wraps his hands around my neck, disturbingly tight
Tells me I can never leave, or run in the dead of night
The goddess of love, had cast her ****** spell
And the only way out is to walk with him to hell

I found someone new, he’s an angel of light
The epitome of peace, he refuses to fight
He doesn’t hurt himself, and he doesn’t make me sad
He feels all kinds of right, he doesn’t feel bad

I love him, I love him, this fresh love blossoms anew
And I honestly thought that you loved me too
But you don’t, and I no longer, I have grown stronger,
Because he doesn’t play choking games, or the victim card, he doesn’t try to win my fame or rip out my whole heart.

I’m sorry love, this ended very tragic
I am not your goddess, with a touch of magic
Set me free, from my cage, like a bird
You listen to my poetry, so I hope you hear this final word.
Oct 7 · 648
Fake beauty queens
Skyla Oct 7
I can dance to rock music
I can sing lay lady lay
I can do all of these things
But I can’t seem to make you stay

I’m a sad girl by night, but a Hollywood star by day
But I seem to just be a pretty face,
ain’t no one wanna hear what I have to say

I could be a tiny dancer, a tragic starlet, a nymphet harlot, ‘cause I’m young and a bottle blonde, with blue eyes that can cry, I’m thin and I sin, and make men go sky high

They wave me hello and I kiss them goodbye
I stay in the dark, think of life, and I sigh
I cry out to god and I scream “why, why?”
So I overdose on sadness and wait to slowly die
And become an angel with wings that could fly

I stop at the golden gates, and ask if I’m in
I see my heartbreakers go straight to hell, and I win

***** you, and your pretty party girl too
She doesn’t understand poetry
And she can’t sing the blues
Like I can, honey

***** you, and your little party girl gleamer
Reality is boring, I’m gonna stay a full-time dreamer
You’re missing out, babe, we could’ve been stars
Hollywood legends, with tragedy endings,
With memories that live on, near and far

Lay me to rest, in a pretty party dress
Six feet under, what a treacherous thing to be seen
   At least I can still look like a beauty queen
No more tears left to cry, no more pretty little lies
I hope my children will remember me
Because they were the only ones who did really see
The girl who was really me, and not the icon you all painted me out to be

I’m finally getting off of this merry go round, this stupid carousel, and I’m laughing like a clown
Wearing nothing but my tears and my crazed smile and tearing off my ball gown

They all frown and tell me I’m not acting like a lady
Well, this lady has a name, and the system’s made her crazy
They took all of my happy memories and made my brain hazy

You took a naive little child and gave her some face paint, told her to make a mask, flawless and saint
She’ll be a teen idle, but only if she looks the part
Because being beautiful is the best form of art

With nothing but a caked face, old bruises and disgrace
I take out my hair extensions, remove my corset
Now I look like your average woman, with a face you’d forget
And I made all the directors and hungry men upset

But now I’m nobody’s princess, I’m nobody’s slave,
Nothing for the wolves to crave
No more children will idolise me, or my photoshopped beauty, and they’ll see the horrified reality
Beauty pageant girls cry behind the scenes
Sticking needles in their lips, and sometimes in their veins,
And 20 years later they’ll be forgotten and insane

Love yourself, for who you are,
You’re not a toy, you belong to no boy,
You don’t need makeup to be a shining star.
Please read this, all younglings  too
Oct 6 · 165
Your new girl
Skyla Oct 6
The apple of my eye, I think I grabbed you from the sky
‘Cause your angel wings were soft and glistening
And your smile was bright and your eyes were glittering.

You took a hungry, broken girl and made me your goddess
You wrote me love poems and gave me your promise
You said you didn’t love any of your girls as much as me
Except for one, but she was simply just a haunting
You called me your beauty, said I set you free  

I was your little enchantress, your dancing muse
A ticking bomb, whilst you lit the fuse
You made me love, but mostly you made me cry
I was only a diamond, made to sparkle up your eye

I thought that you were heaven, where the angels dwell
But the heartbreak that you gave me, only gave me hell

My dreams were filled with images of you
I dreamt of the past and the future with you
Our love was timeless, our beauty was grace
When I gaze at the sun I picture your face

Our love was as delicate as fine China,
We were walking on shards of glass
I was slowly tiptoeing around the broken pieces
But you were running so fast

My sun, my moon, mon amour, la lune,
I danced on sharp fragments for you, cutting up my feet
The blood was dripping on the floor, but I kept thinking of how sweet, it is that you love me and I love you
And you’re always so cool, everything you do

You locked me up and threw away the key
My wrists were sore and I counted to three
But you grabbed your new love, your new bonnie
And you turned around and looked at me
And shook your head and said “sorry, baby”

You said I was too late, all I could feel was this hate
For myself and everything I didn’t have that she did
You found a new bambi, a new thumbelina
And I was nothing but your bloodied ballerina
Who let things destroy her so you could love her more
You said “too little too late” and left me sobbing and sore

I was always a diamond, your Aphrodite pearl
Your other girl was a map, but wasn’t I your whole world?

And maybe we’ll go down in history
You for notoriety, and shameless infamy
And they’ll all explore the mystery
And why you chose your mistress and threw me out to sea.
I’ll never forget this.
Oct 4 · 162
Summer Lover Ghost
Skyla Oct 4
You looked like summer, your soul fire was ablaze,
Igniting passionate flames and burning up your heart.    
You set yourself on fire over and over again for me
But when you became raging and chaotic,
I desperately tried to put you out,
but you swallowed me.
I slowly suffocated from the heat, and disintegrated into ashes.  The sun just wasn’t meant for a soft, breezy flower like me.

I was spring, rose-lit evenings reflected in my eyes
Grape vines grew all around my limbs,
I sang swan-songs under olive trees about you
I created elixir poetry for you, that made me swoon.
I cooed like a bird and pranced around like a butterfly.
I spread my wings like an angel, humming with the bees, dancing like a firefly girl, madly in midnight.

Although you were the sun, you adored the moon.
You worshiped her and loved her, her crystalline white beauty, like dew drops on a rose, or the feathers of a dove.  She dazzled you

I was gonna sparkle up your eye, be your moonlit girl,
your evening lover, your morning darling, your summer peach, but I was nothing but a spring fling, if that.  

Hot summer nights in mid-July, left me glistening and gleaming with passion, glowing like glitter and gloss.  I drowned myself in the embers of love, burning up with a fever.  

I imagined your honeydew eyes and nectarine lips, gently caressing my cherry ruby ones.  I imagined the way you’d brush my golden locks of hair, ever so gently, and plant the seeds of your warm kisses on the top of my head.  

I was a spring girl, trying to be midnight for you.
I absolutely destroyed myself, crumbled like Pompeii
Just to be your eye candy, and your heart candy too.
You were tired of my pastels and my dew-drop innocence, my frolicking Bambi grace, and my dolly mind?

I painted my big doe eyes in black, trampled the fairies and water nymphs around me, and followed the voice of the devil, a shadow vampire, the temptress voice of a siren, velvet and serene.  

I wore tight satin, choking myself in silk curtains, shattered all my Fine China, let Medusa turn my heart to stone, watching the serpent snakes coil around my body and guide me out of the garden of Eden.

Sexualised icon, beauty queen, big flirt, learning to sensually dance to Springsteen.  

And the mascara runs down my face, my wine red lip stick bleeds and dribbles into my mouth, my waist is tight with the ribbons wrapped around it.  

I loved you, I adored you, I wanted you to adore me to.
Moonlight, sunshine, spring girl, summer boy,
Your European temple, your ice cream cone,
Your French Riviera, your Italian rose-garden.

Your northern lights.

My summer lover, now ghost,
I will always cherish our divine memories
I will always be fond of the flowers you planted in me
But I will never forget the day you ripped them out
Tore them from their roots, killing them all
And handing them to another pretty garden girl.

I wept, not so much for the loss of my flowers
But for the pain that you had so carelessly caused me
I wouldn’t even want the flowers back,
I just wanted you.
Skyla Oct 4
He grabs me by my hair
And gives me quite the scare
And tells me that I’m his to keep
Backed up against the wall, I weep

I fear for my life but he says one day I’ll be his wife
So I guess it’s time to start lovin’ on him
Every day of every week, crying on the floor and between the sheets

Always making a scene
He can be cool, he can be mean
But my heart don’t mean anythin’
Because I’m his beauty queen

Crying in my Summer dress
Asking to be blessed
By a God I don’t believe in

‘Cause I’m his favourite dolly
Spins me ‘round and ‘round and ‘round
Violently dances me around the room
And drags me all the way downtown

‘Cause I’m his favourite Candy
And while he screams and drinks his Brandy
I’m writing apology letters to make him feel better
And I only feel blessed when we’re both undressed
Because lust and desire will put out his fire

He said I was Hollywood beauty and timeless grace
But that don’t feel right with the marks on my face
He says he adores me so I let him explore me
Whenever, wherever, he needs

I am his canvas, his hands are the brush  
The colours he paints on me feel like a sugar rush
He gives me some blush
and some crimson red lips
The metallic taste seeps in my mouth
And stains the front of my blouse

‘Cause I’m his favourite barbie
Likes to dress me up, and take me to town
I’m beauty, I’m grace, I cake on a new face
But it all comes melting off at night when I sob in my nightgown

But he kisses my wounds
And dances me ‘round the room one more time
Mr Rage, Mr. Love, my chaotic turtle dove
As we’re dancing I can see the heavens above
and there is no presence of time

Drink your wine, treat me like swine,
I’m scared for the future while he’s sippin’ on time

Lay me down tonight, decorate me with pearls
Whisper in my ear, tell me I’m your favourite girl
And that you’ll do anything in the whole wide world
To win my forgiveness
I don’t want this, but I deserve this.  

Kiss me, tell me i’m your peach, don’t shake me, or make me cry.

Please everyone, if you see my colourful face, please don’t ask me why.
This is not meant to glorify or romanticise domestic violence.  I use very heavy metaphors but it is a way for me to show that the girl refuses to believe her man is bad; she only paints him to look good.  Therefore “paints me” and “dances me around” are her way of expressing that he’s abusing her.
Sep 15 · 805
Do you adore me yet?
Skyla Sep 15
Would you, If you could press reset?
You stole my heart, put it back in my chest
You hate me when I’m lifeless but I love my emptiness
I’m not the soul you once met
I just need to lay underneath the dirt and rest
All I see are silhouettes
Do you love me too much to forget
even in this mindset?
Or do you regret?

I don’t feel pretty, I feel scared

I wanna be your dolly, broken and impaired
Sad, skin and bone
In your arms I found a home
Made of glass and deeply fragile
You cradled me while I was in denial

Do you adore me, yet?

These handcuffs are tightening
Everything is frightening
I don’t feel the thunder but I feel the lightening

Just hold me, don’t scold me, I know that you worry, but I feel so lovely,
I’m lying, I’m dying, I hate that you’re crying, and you think i’m falling but I think I’m flying.  

You said that perfect don’t exist
Then why do I feel it in my emptiness?

You see my sadness and my brittle little head
   But you don’t see the gore or the bloodshed

I destroy you while I destroy myself
You don’t think I’m pretty anymore because I’ve destroyed my health

I  wanna be half, ‘cause I hate being whole
So I bow down to a porcelain bowl

You try to find my skin under the sheets
But you only find the swelling cuts and my bones, so you dig deeper underneath
But there’s nothing there.  Not even blood or muscle.  There’s absolutely nothing but air.  

And I know that’s not what you want to touch
And I’ve robbed you of the girl you loved
I’ve taken her place and I wear her face
and you miss her most, but for now all you have is her ghost.

You try to force life into the ghost of her body
How come you want the “healthier” her, but you don’t want me?

Do you not see how much I’ve done for you?
Replacing meals with fingernails and trying not to feel
Growing too thin so I can finally win
This game that you don’t even want to be in

I love you, and you love a girl who is withering away into nothing

You don’t love my body you love my soul
You love my heart, which has grown cold

I’m shivering under your fingertips in this hollow body, in this cold skin of mine
Not from your touch but from feeling no heat
No heat from your love, no warmth from your touch, just cold and sad and stuck.  

And when I look in the mirror and tell the ghost of me that she looks pretty
She screams in return and her eyes ache for me to see that I’m absolutely hideous this way

Darling, do you adore me yet?
Jul 27 · 5.1k
8 Reasons Why Not
Skyla Jul 27
1.Pain is temporary, if you give up now, it’ll last forever

2. You don’t drown by falling into the water, you drown by staying there

3. If your ship doesn’t come in to you, swim out to meet it

4. The greatest limitations of life are the ones we put on ourselves.  

5. Never confuse a few defeats for a final defeat

6.  Staying alive is the greatest revenge to spite depression and people

7.  What if you were a survivor? Rather than another tragic statistic

8.  Imagine your loved one being haunted by finding you in such a state

Bonus:  If you are strong enough to be capable of killing yourself, then you are strong enough to live. ~
Skyla Jul 27
I’m sorry I don’t have pretty metaphors
to describe my pain

All I can say is

It hurts

It hurts

It hurts ~
Jul 27 · 189
Letting Go
Skyla Jul 27
the hardest part about letting go, is realising that there’s not much left to hold on to.
Jul 7 · 330
The silence is a lie
Skyla Jul 7
When truth is replaced by silence, the silence is a lie.
Skyla Jul 7
What kind of writer am I? With all this love and no words for it?
Jul 7 · 206
Lovers in a dream
Skyla Jul 7
We waste time looking for the perfect lover, instead of creating the perfect love.

The only lover she had ever wanted was a lover in a dream.
Not mine.
Skyla Jul 7
If you love a flower, don’t pick it up. Because if you pick it up it dies and it ceases to be what you love. So if you love a flower, let it be.
May 26 · 983
Girls Made Of Glass
Skyla May 26
There are girls made of glass
With bones that can shatter
Be careful when you touch
For the shards may just scatter

Their eyes are glassy and broken
Their mouths are sewn shut but their wounds are open
Their skin is a suit that they hate to wear
They claw and they bite and they viciously tear

They silently scream and pull at their hair
Icicles pierce through their throats
But they don’t seem to care
The more they starve the more fragile they become
They live in the darkness of winter, and never see the sun
The light is forgotten and they ache and they and shiver
Their sore spines quake, and their lips violently quiver

They live in puddles of misery, they beg you to touch
The fingers of the sun just burn too much
The fingers of helping hands can never reach quite enough

There are girls made of glass
With bones and hearts that can break
Be careful when you get too close
For death comes closer every breath they take.
Skyla Apr 20
Am I beautiful or am I sick?
   Am I disgusting, do my eyes play tricks?
I grab my skin with a **** and a pinch
       I feel my body with every nitpick
Thousands of things that I need to fix

Shaking, I open my eyes to face the mirror
There is so much pain, there is so much fear.
There’s nothing but porcelain glass
         with maybe a smudge
And a girl staring back with a body to judge
My vision is blurry, as my eyes well with tears
As flashes of all of the wasted years
Run through my mind, and inside I find,
That maybe I’m the one who can’t see
Maybe I’m the one who is blind
Softly, I touch the glass, and I continue to stare
And a feeling overcomes me, a feeling so rare
That my body doesn’t look the way I thought
The desire of self-love, I viciously sought
I don’t see fat, I don’t see skinny,
I see ache, I see empty, I see hurt, I see fake
I see insatiable hunger,
but I don’t see a number
I see tears, I see bone, I see fear, I see alone.
The mirror doesn’t show a monster
It shows a ravenous daughter
Hungry for love and hungry for affection
Connection and affection achieved through perfection
Maybe some attention
Sobbing mother, angry father, hurting girl
Melancholy, resentment, crashing world

The thinner isn’t the winner,
To heal is to finally feel real
Smiling mother, affectionate father, healing girl.  
Numbers slowly disappear, and blossoms a colourful world
I try to feign disgust but I cannot fool myself
So I begin to trust the light inside of myself

Abandon the habit of starving out of spite
Climb out of the darkness and into the light
There is nothing that I cannot try to write
The hands around your neck in a chokehold
                 tries to squeeze tight
             But the fingers, they loosen,
          and your body begs you to try.  
    Looking at my food, I think that I might
               Lips aquiver, I take a bite.  
           Everything is going to be okay
              One bite at a time, slowly,
                   each and every day.
Feb 20 · 1.5k
My body is a poem (NSFW)
Skyla Feb 20
I’ve written so many poems
But all of them are irrelevant
Just meaningless words thrown together
By a meaningless girl in a small town.
She writes about her suffering from sickness and disorders.
She writes about how deep the knives in her chest go and how many times she’s been stabbed by grief.
She writes about how sharp her monster’s teeth are and how deeply they bite.
She writes about the devil and why hell is actually our current world.
She writes about demons and angels of darkness and numbers and dancing skeletons with aching bones.

She writes about dead, rotten girls. Who died in a choke hold at the hands of a scale or drowning in a toilet bowl.

She writes so many poems but the ultimate poem of all is her body.  Her body is the one true poem.  Scars that line her ribs where she sliced with her mother’s bone-handled knife.  Scars on her thighs from being cut with shards of glass because she shattered so many mirrors with her aching fists.

Bruises that line her legs and her arms.  Iron burns caused by her own hands because she just wanted to feel something.

Bags under her eyes, wrinkles corrupting her youthful face, dry and ****** lips.  Don’t even get me started on her teeth.
Oh, what eating disorders do to teeth.
She doesn’t smile much anyway.

Deep, red scabs on her knuckles from purging too hard, to the point where her teeth scraped off chunks of skin.

I am a girl.  I want perfection, I want affection.
But all I have is depression, and numbers and mirrors and food and shards of glass and my bones bones so many bones ;

Hollow eyes and on her way to join the rotten girls club.

How do people think this is beautiful?
Are dead, rotten girls beautiful?
Are they glorified because their bones stick out in places they shouldn’t?
Are they romanticised because they can fit into a size 000?

Does no one see their bloated corpses?
Does no one see their grey-green skin?
Does no one see their stitched up mouths open wide, with blackness and abyss pouring out when they’re in fact, trying to scream?
Maybe your lips are glued shut and you have a blindfold on.

Dead rotten girls should be your worst nightmare, not your dream look.

As unfortunate and tragic it may be, am I the ultimate poem? ~
Feb 19 · 1.3k
Shattered image
Skyla Feb 19
Shatter the glass, and see my reflection separated by shards.  Like I’m viewing myself through a kaleidoscope.

Writing “no” on the mirror with lipstick
Or rather screaming it
Can you scream in writing?
No vile words or forms of violence could express the uttermost disgust I have for myself
Fires don’t burn nearly as much as my rage
Knives aren’t nearly as sharp as my fingers
Poison isn’t a match for the words I spit
Not even pure hatred can measure up to what I feel
“Hate” is merely a soft, child-like term compared to what I feel
Not even the devil himself can compare

I would burn in this skin in flames for eternity if it meant that I could feel my body melt away until I’m bone.
Having a bad body day.  This poem is anger.
Skyla Feb 17
~ what if the devil doesn’t know he’s the devil? ~

What if the way he loves is painful?
What if his love bites?
What if his love has sharp teeth and gnaws at you when you’re asleep?
What if he embraces you with hands squeezed tightly around your neck?
What if in the midst of a fiery passion, he puts you to sleep with a knife in the chest?

What if there’s something that he’s trying to tell
He’s trying to save you from burning in hell
But hell is on earth, and the devils are us
And he lusts to end where he finds the disgust

Condemned are our souls, for all things we deaden

The blessed knife in your chest is your one way ticket to heaven ~
Skyla Feb 15
We aren’t afraid of ourselves ~  
We’re afraid of what we’re capable of ~
Feb 15 · 590
The mirror is the truth
Skyla Feb 15
~ maybe, the mirror isn’t our enemy at all.  
We are the monsters.  Our own worst enemy.
The mirror simply shows it.  We are not afraid of the mirror, we’re ashamed of it
Dec 2018 · 1.2k
Funhouse Mirror
Skyla Dec 2018
When I look in the mirror, I see a demon.  A monster.  Sometimes I see me, sometimes I see nobody.

I see a weeping girl with salty tears dripping from her cheeks to her lips.  Her bruised bones sticking out in places where they shouldn’t.

I see an evil girl, black, gaping holes for eyes, and a smile that spreads to her ears, sharp, pointy teeth sticking out, and blood seeping from her mouth.  She puts a hushed finger to her lips.
Then I see me.  Purple bags under my eyes, sore and swollen lips, *****, brittle hair, hanging limp in my face.  Bones dramatically sticking out, but not quite enough.

I grab my neck in a chokehold to stop what I’m seeing.  I can’t see me.  Not now, not ever. I can’t just yet.   I don’t even know if I see me, or if I don’t, because i don’t know how to look, or what to look like. ~

What if the monster in the mirror is actually me, trapped in the mirror, and the demon is possessing me now?

The question isn’t who is going to let me, it’s who is going to stop me?

Why whisper, when you could just scream? ~
Dec 2018 · 524
How to murder me
Skyla Dec 2018
******* me

**** me with a compliment
**** me with a smile
I promise you that it will be worthwhile

I have forgotten love and kindness
And human touch
One small dose of it is lethal, and I want it very much

Poison me with kisses
Choke me with your love
I’m sick of being reminded that I’m not enough

Burn me with your fingers
As you gently hold my hand
Drown me with your lips
Make my finale extra grand

This world has left me cold, leaving me forever haunted
****** me with kindness because it’s all I’ve ever wanted.
Dec 2018 · 855
Winter Girls
Skyla Dec 2018
There are girls who are stuck in the snow
Embedded deep in the frost
Icicles form inside of their hearts, like sharp, glass blades
Frozen in time, lost in the winter. Lost in the cold.

When you try to show them love and warmth,
They’ll push you away with their burning fingers, keeping their distance from the heat.  

Their tears fall like frozen snowflakes from their frosty eyes.  
Their lips are frozen shut.  They are nothing but numb.

Winter girls have icy veins and icicle blades
Winter girls have snowy smiles that wither and fade
Winter girls will cut you open with one piercing look
From their bittersweet eyes

They only know their blue and black hues
And you don’t have a single clue
How they shiver on the internal
Their winter is forever eternal ~
Dec 2018 · 300
I want to die a poet death
Skyla Dec 2018
Rip me apart, tear me to shreds,
I want to die a poet death

Slowly peel off my skin, reveal my true form
Try hard not to scream, try hard not to mourn

Carve until you get down to the bone
Then you’ll see why I never felt like home

Crack open my jaw, pull out all the lies
I want to die the way a poet dies

Don’t forget all the lovely words I’ve said to you
Because those, darling, were always true

Scrub the ink off my skin, of all the words I failed to say
But I promise I will soon say them one day

I can smell the lovesick on your breath
I want to die a poet death

Close your eyes, as you watch my demise
I want to die the way a poet dies
Dec 2018 · 2.1k
skip dinner, get thinner
Skyla Dec 2018
I’ll put the fork in my eye, and the knife in my heart.
Not the best beginning to a meal, but it’s a start.

Cut the food into tiny pieces.
Nibble on the smallest morsel you can find.
Oh no! Too much! Press pause, and rewind.

Do the only thing you know how to do:
Shrink shrink shrink your food.
Cut it all up until the pieces are so small, you’d need a microscope to see them.
This may take hours.  But at least it will last for the entirety of dinner.

Dinner conversation, make the first initiation.
“How was your day?”  and
“What did you do?”
Whistle for the dog, and “oh no! I dropped my food!”

“School was quite interesting, and my day was great”
You smile as you quietly scrape the demons off your plate
Your hands almost pick up the bread, with a tug and a pull
“I’m buried in homework, thank you mommy, I’m full”

Those lies will send you straight to Hell,
You’re rotten with sin.
But a girl’s gotta do anything to stay thin.
Finally, another night, and another win.

An angel’s gotta do a devil’s work to stay looking like an angel, outside and within
Dec 2018 · 2.0k
Anorexic birthday wish
Skyla Dec 2018
A memoir:

”~Happy birthday to you ~

“Go on, honey, make a wish!”

You close your eyes, your thoughts are tight.
Give it a second, for the voices to unwind.
Don’t get too comfy, but sit back tight.
Tense, emotionless, walls go up, prepare to fight

What could you wish for? What could it be?
Perhaps a new body, or un-broken eyes that see clearly?
Perhaps the willpower to fast longer, or to purge harder than normal,
Or maybe for the eating disorder to disappear,
But that would be too informal.

Only fifteen, but your thoughts are so mean.
I’m guessing your sixteenth won’t be so sweet.
Always shiver and feel cold, but for me, feel the heat.

I won’t let you off that easy,
so don’t keep your hopes up, sweet-pea.
If your family knew what you were thinking,
They would be horrified, that you’re mentally sinking.
Don’t you dream of shrinking?

Your mother probably thinks you’re wishing for something innocent, like happiness or peace.
Instead, a new shell to inhabit or the strength to not eat
Don’t you see, a simple wish is your reward?
Realistically, you should just wish to be in a morgue.  

No more kissing boys or sneaking out late
No more dinner dates or birthday cake
No more dancing in your room, or eating ice cream
No more memorable laughs or sugar-sweet dreams

So, blow out the candles, honey, make a wish
Lick off the frosting, be sure to clean your dish,
Or your secret will be out, if you don’t finish

So, come on, birthday girl, give it a go
Conceal, don’t feel, don’t let them all know
   Put on a show, don’t be exposed
I am your voice, but a friend or a foe?

“Did you make your wish, honey?”

Your eyes glisten with sadness.  

“Yes, mommy, I did.” ~
Skyla Dec 2018
I hear the same, bitter word on repeat
And it still shakes me to my very core
  “I loved you once, but nevermore”
His veneer of love had fallen apart
And now I am left with a knife in my heart
    Do you know how much I ache?
I’m shattered and cold, and now I quake
“Beyond the sunrise, ‘tis you that I adore,
     But our love shall go on, nevermore”

I wept for a love that is beyond repair
I wept for my heart, shaking in despair
I wept for a man with a smile so rare
Who destroyed the heart of a maiden fair
So faithful was I, for I would never forswear
A man with a love that left me gasping for air
Wouldst thou ****** me? wouldst thou dare?
You left my love bleeding, raw, naked, and bare
I said that I’d die for you, or go to war!
But once again, you said “Nevermore”
My wounds gush blood, and my soul is sore
But thine eyes and lips said “Nevermore”
Thy words are scattered, running hither and thither
But filled with such compassion, leaving my lips aquiver
Was I just an object of lust that your body outwore?
But still, you shuddered and said “Nevermore”
I will give you money and gold and diamonds galore!
But still, you scoffed and said “Nevermore”
Now, I sit here forlorn, and feeling heartsore
“You make me melancholy, darling”
And then he left, without another word, and I sat there and quoted “Nevermore” ~
Inspired by Edgar Allen Poe’s “The Raven”
Skyla Dec 2018
If you could travel back in time
And meet yourself as a little child
What would you tell yourself?

If I could travel back in time
And meet myself as a little child
I would tell her, that she’s perfect just the way she is. That she’s fine.  She’s so fine, that she doesn’t need to be anything else.  Her small, growing body does NOT deserve to go through years of starvation and self-induced vomiting like it did.  She didn’t need to stick her fingers down her throat to look like a runway model, because she’s just fine.  

That little girl, laughing with big, doe eyes
And dewy lips coated in sugar
******* on lollipops and eating too many cookies with her friends, didn’t deserve this.  If only she knew that her happiness would be very short-lasting.  If she knew, she would’ve savoured those moments very dearly; but instead, she went on giggling in the sunshine, unaware that she will be lying on her death bed a few years later.

I would hug her, and hold her little 4’8 frame, and tell her that she needs to grow strong.  If you never eat, you never grow.  She needs to make sure her bones are iron-strong and her mind is sharp and fierce, and if she wants to chase her dreams, she can, and she can chase her dreams and achieve many things without needing to starve herself.  

Instead, she believed that skipping meals meant that she could conquer anything.  The only thing she would conquer is a near-death experience from malnutrition, and an almost trip to the morgue.  

Little girl with bright and peachy eyes,
Now that you don’t have to perfect, you can be good.
Skyla Aug 2018
Every day feels like Winter. Sad and dreary, and cold.
You’re young and numb, but you feel so tired and old.
Summer isn’t Summer. Spring isn’t spring.
Seasons don’t matter, now they're just a dreaded thing.
The virus has devoured your mind, you aren’t even alive.
You used to walk hundreds of steps, but now, barely even 5.
Your heart is slower than your thinking.
Your sunken eyes are tired of blinking.
You want to give up, but the disease says no.
You wish that this deadly thing would just go.
All you are is skin and bone,
and you beg your voices to leave you alone,
but they won’t.

Your hair is dead and just dry straw, but you didn’t need it anyway.
Your fingernails are breaking off, but you didn’t need them anyway.
Your teeth are rotting one by one, but you don’t smile much anyway.
Your bones are next, since they are brittle and breaking,
What will it take to stop this internal aching?
As the virus eats your flesh, in your week old sweater,
you remember what it was like to be… better.

The sad thing is, you’ll continue to decay and let the voices rave,
even if it means that you will soon be placed in a concrete grave.
because at least you’ll feel pretty and alone,
proud of what’s left of your skin and bone.
Except you won’t be alive to be aware of yourself.
how sickening and skeletal you have made yourself.
you looked no different when you were alive,
except you were just living, but still dead inside.
You wear death perfectly, since this is who you are
and what you wanted.

At least no one can look at you.
At least no one can make you eat.
At least you can’t be tempted by a delicious treat.
At least no one can bother you, and let you rest in peace.
No mirrors to look in for hours and cry.
No more complaining that you wish you would just die.
No more worries, or sadness, or pain.
Your mind is gone and you're no longer insane.
You can sleep forever under the stars, and i suppose,
you can finally turn into nature, while you decompose.
And the best of all, is that you're no longer in your own skin.
No longer in your pitiful body, so technically, you win.
You’re a fresh soul who can no longer grieve,
and everything has left, and what’s left will leave.
Until you’re empty. Like you've always been.

But that hasn't happened yet.
Your mind is fading, and you always forget,
That you're still real, but you hate feeling real,
because you can still hurt, you can still feel.
You wish you could unzip your skin and set it on fire,
and watch it perish, in it’s disgusting attire.
At least you can disintegrate in that bed of yours.
Give in to all of your vicious wars.
But when it leaves temporarily, you still beg for more.
That’s how you know that you're sick to your very core.
You’ve been suffering this all alone,
You never leave the house, yet you feel like you aren't home.
And when this weather gets worse and hits you like a stone,
And the rain has fallen and the wind has already blown,
And this Winter climbs up your spine, and chills you to the bone,
You were once human. You would’ve never known.
This last day feels like Winter. Sad and dreary, and cold.

I hope that the broken disordered recover one day.  There is beauty through the broken, but you shouldn’t need to be broken to be beautiful.
Aug 2018 · 11.3k
Pretty dying girls and boys
Skyla Aug 2018
It doesn’t really matter if you’re hungry
You’re not even going to eat
You aren’t a loser, you’ll win this game
It’s a game you have to defeat
It’s hot outside and you’re really cold
Your young, small body is feeling old
You feel so starved down to your soul
Keep it up honey, you’re on a roll
You want to be half but you are whole
You hate this game but you’re in control
To feel in control you must pay the price
It doesn’t cost much, just your life
No matter what, you’re always alone
It’s you and me, it’s written in stone
You’ve lost everything that you love and own
But at least you have your beautiful bones
Your body hates you but that’s okay
Everyone has left, but I’ll always stay
That was my goal all along
To make you feel guilty, to make you feel wrong
Everything I say is helpful, everything I say is the cure
You don’t want to feel disgusting, do you? Don’t you want to be pure?
Tiny, Angelic, Dainty and Delicate
Everything else is completely irrelevant
You’ll never feel shameless, you’ll be the greatest!
Listen to me darling, don’t you want to be weightless?
Tired, gaunt, pointless and twisted
The girl you’ve been talking to never existed
It’s all in your head, but your head is her home
You’ve got nothing left to control, but your brittle little bones ~

— The End —