Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
The Willow Nov 2018
My wings are smoothed out
I am crashing
flying to get to you
Flying home
bound by the weatherman’s voice
Saying it’ll be smooth sailing
No sign of failing
My heartbeat is failing
Favoring ailing over being without you

Don’t smooth me out
Keep me rough
So you can get a good grip on me
So I don’t lose my grip on reality
Stay with me
I am crashing
Stay with me
It’s smooth sailing to say
we’re just good friends
No repremends

Unleast until my heart gives out .
You can’t say a word to them, because then there would be consequences. But I am a time bomb, waiting for when this lack of talking on your end blows up on mine.
The Willow May 2018
There is danger in living for others
in your darkest place.

There may come a time that
those people are no longer there,

Their shadows etched to your walls,
like the images of people from atomic bombs,
are the only evidence in your glazed over eyes
that someone was ever worth living for at all.
The Willow May 2018
I know a single human shouldn’t be the reason for living,

But as my list of reasons for dying grows longer, one reason counteracts them the most:

If your beautiful soul is still here and has the audacity to exist in this world, then maybe I can too.
The Willow May 2018
Is it considered assisted ****** if I am the one that gave the
parts of the brain that want to **** themselves to my child?

Would I be condemned if they didn’t stand a chance against the one thing they couldn’t control,
Their own genes?

Wouldn’t it be
Just as much me
If they were the ones
In the battle against their brain?
The Willow Apr 2018
They say
The person who cares the least
Controls the relationship

If this is true
Than you have controlled me
For a year

But today
I am not in love with you anymore
And I pray to God
That it stays that way.
The Willow Mar 2018
From the way I slouch over
This table
Lower spine crumpling over
The weight of collapsing shoulder blades
You would think I had a drink
In front of me.

I shudder as a song comes on,
Shudder in the way that
nature gets very still after a gunshot,
as if the lack of movement
Itself was louder than any shake could make.

And as I sit silently, quaking internally,
I can’t help but wonder if this feeling
Of you
Is one of craving
Or being hung over?
The Willow Mar 2018
The thing I dream of most
Is having the times I say
I love you
Outnumber the times
I couldn’t say it but wanted to.
Next page