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The Willow Dec 2015
II.
The other woman:
She is the one we all agree
to hate.
4.0k · Dec 2015
Grief of the Unwanted
The Willow Dec 2015
The part of me that wishes more than anything to have a mother to talk to
is locked up tight.

It clangs on the bars from time to time.
Begging for attention.

It's grey, felt skin
on fire.

But when it gets slipped a key by the circumstances that trouble me most,
it burns my guts
and I can't breathe

because the brand of loneliness I inherited from my mother
is grief of the unwanted, and it is not subtle.

It is searing.
It is agonizing.
It is abandonment.
4.0k · Jun 2014
We Are Coral
The Willow Jun 2014
We are coral.
Rock polyps
Slender rock
Grazing at the feet of the master waters
Expanding indefinitely

We have holes.
Countless crevasses
Of all different sizes
And every one of us
Craving
For something

To fill those holes.

Reefs reach up
To the sun
Restlessly
We fight
But it’s not visible.
You wouldn’t see any
Trembles
Hinting at the movement
Under the waves

We are reaching up
Revealing cracks unseen
Trying to catch what we can
To fill the void
Of our own bodies

The coral catches coral
Broken off at the tips
And roots uproot
Proof
That we’re stretching to the surface
We cannot stay here hungry

Coral grabs coral
Desperate for fulfillment
We as rocks moan
“I’m waiting for sunlight,
or diamonds,
or perhaps something greater
than
what I am.”

Coral fills coral.  
and others remain empty.
What are polyps to do?

Then the realization comes that we have been
So
Slowly
Filled with the ashes
Of the mounts of fire
Surrounding
Home
It takes so long
To collect the specks
And soot doesn’t look like much.

Years pass.
Years and years and years
And corals that wanted to feel full
Grabbed at identical fibers
They lost limbs of themselves in the process
And every piece that stuck
Eventually left
On the current

Every
Last
One.

And the soot filled the spaces of the corals that waited
And they shone with time
And they shone within the spaces
In places
That were not meant for coral
But indestructible
Stone.
We are diamond.
The Willow May 2014
"I make you silky
I make you iridescent
I make you more beautiful
and valuable
than you could
Ever be without me

But stay with me long enough  
and you’ll have
Nothing left
Of yourself.

You thought you wouldn’t lose yourself
Loving me.

You were wrong."

"I'll be fine."
The Willow Dec 2015
V.
((Unforgivable?
Are we really the ones to determine what is unforgivable and
what is not?))
Thank you for reading my full journey of Prisms and the Other Woman.

It is the story about love vs. lust, manipulation, forgiveness, and respect.
And for that I am forever grateful.
The Willow Nov 2015
My dandelion boy has left, Mom.
What do I do?
My blonde boy left bruises on my ribs, Mom.
Can you see them, too?

My home is broken, Mom.
I planted flowers around his feet
and hung stars on his lashes
to make me feel more cosy.

The back of his neck smelled like the color gold, Mom.
It smelled like a home I was unfamiliar with.
But I studied hard.
I sounded out the vowels of families with my lips along his.

I thought I had found a home, mom. Because ever since you
left
I have been looking

constantly.
2.5k · Jun 2014
Forgetting Love
The Willow Jun 2014
I’m trying to shed the memory of you
Not like a light jacket that you can just put on and take off as you please
As the weather changes,
But with all the effort of removing an exoskeleton;
It only comes with time.

I’m trying to shed the very skin that allowed me to love you and to
Question everything.

The scales on my spine reminding me that I have one,
And that I don’t have to be pushed into things

Who am I kidding.

I wasn’t pushed into anything.

I just believed the things I shouldn’t have
And distrusted the things I should.
2.4k · Dec 2015
The sound of divorce
The Willow Dec 2015
The sound of divorce is
the noise of the drills
disassembling the couch
dad bought but
mom wanted.

the touch of divorce is
the weariness whenever
a boy
kisses me
and I think about how it could never work because it
never did before.

the taste of divorce is
the tomato sauce dad has been making
every sunday
since she made that day
her own holiday.
Separate.

the smell of divorce is
her cigarette smothered car.

the look of divorce is a tight lipped smile.
but it doesn't curve.
it's just straight.
The Willow Dec 2015
III.
I have nearly always been
"The other woman"
In one person's mind or another.
Good for a distraction
But never
For anything
More.
I was an easy ****.
Perhaps it's because I believe in the decency of mankind more than
Reality.
2.3k · Feb 2018
Him and You.
The Willow Feb 2018
(There are two characters in this particular story:
Him and You.)

He never thought of me as a poet, though I have written more poetry about Him than anyone else before.
I wrote a poem about him, spent hours on it, hummed it on a stage,
I got so close to the mic for comfort
I felt I was supporting myself on His secondhand drunken breath.
I once read it out loud to him, and it got lost in His head,
and I am unsure if He was ever aware of poetry He dismissed.

But You. You considered me a poet almost from the start,
I could see it in the way Your eyes were trying to tell Your mouth the words it needed to adore me, but Your mouth fell blank,
and so chose into kissing instead.
At least, that's how it went in my head.
You were upset with me at how little poetry I had written about You,
and even to this day, though we are apart for three years,
You still read my words.

Why?
Why do you still read?
Is it to make up for the words You skipped over in my eyes when You were close enough to read my irises?
The Willow Apr 2014
A pregnancy test

A pack of beer

And a Bible

She gathered her bags,

(the alcohol and the book in separate bags

I didn’t have the heart)

I said “Have a nice day.”

Her tired eyes smiled.



I have never forgotten it.
1.6k · Dec 2015
Comatose Bay
The Willow Dec 2015
away we go
to the Comatose Bay
where the Dead come alive
but in the modern way

where the eyes once masked
by hellish Fiends
have lost their leashes
and now they are seen

by the Comatose Bay
they have tea stands, their mugs
are soaked with the leaves
of the motherless hugs

and the Culprits, they couldn't
know what they had done
there's a sting in their touch
for the Motherless Ones

come one come all
to the Comatose Bay
where the Saints come to die
and the Atheists pray
where Visionaries shrivel
and the Dreamers decay

Come, come if you must,
but don't you dare stay;
for the Comatose Bay
is dear Death's cabernet.
This was written in one of my darkest moments of depression,
a moment where you sincerely believe
there's no point in living.
1.5k · Mar 2018
Untitled
The Willow Mar 2018
Thank you, sky,
For reminding me today
That there are other shades of blue
Than his eyes.
1.4k · May 2014
Life Goes On
The Willow May 2014
L-i-f-e-g-o-e-s-o-n.

A piece of paper, a smile, a millisecond glance.

It happens.

A millisecond glace.

Please, take no more of my time.

Don't waste it.

My breaths are limited
from saying, "Yes, I will,"

I won't.
Not anymore.

Don't feel the need to pity me.
1.3k · Apr 2014
The Unexpected Intellectual
The Willow Apr 2014
Eat your brains Momma Zombie says
Eat em up real good.
She says it in her guttural sounds and vacant looks of approval

All brains?

Uuuuunnnngg.

Even kid’s brains?

Our hoard laughs in the lifeless, silent type of way.
What’s this? We got a sympathetic one.

I fear there’s something wrong with me,
When I feel guilty eating brains
And don’t find pleasure in their screams.

I tried my best to pick another career choice
A teacher
A writer, perhaps.

But there was no need for learning here
And my half-dead hands can’t hold a pencil.

If only the screamers could understand
The inner monologue that some of us have.
1.3k · Dec 2015
The Hurt Harvest
The Willow Dec 2015
There is a cruelness in me
trying to uproot my nature of soft
and it stings
it hurts

I don't want to be harming
I don't want to be harsh

where did this distaste for trust come from?
And when will it finally leave?
1.2k · Jul 2016
Blonde // Black
The Willow Jul 2016
At first, I thought you were insincere. // At first, I thought you were insincere.

You followed the two date curse. // You didn't want me to run away.

You pinned my imagination to the stars. // You planted me in Baby's Breath on the earth.

You broke my ribs, pushed them over Jenga-style. // You held ribs in place for healing's sake.

You were a relief of a goodbye. // You were an unexpected hello.

You were my Icarus. // You were my Atticus.

Adventurine // Amber green.
The Willow Dec 2015
I am in control
I am in control
I have my life
I have my soul

My hands are strong
I know, I am sure
My opinions are fact
And I have no fear

I know what I'm doing
There's no doubt in my mind
I'm not allowed to feel pain
Only to love and be kind.

I am in control
I am in control
I am sure of my choices
I am sure of my goal

Because if I'm not in control

I am nothing.
1.0k · Feb 2018
Aftertaste
The Willow Feb 2018
If I think about all the ways I’m losing you,
I’ll drive myself insane.

Instead, I’ll think about everything I’m gaining:

My sense of humor back
My real laugh
My productivity
Feeling like myself again
My self respect
My voice
My time
My dreams that do not include you
890 · Nov 2015
The Oldest Soul
The Willow Nov 2015
I feel both the oldest soul
And the youngest one in the world.

Phrases like
you’ll learn to face heartache better when you’re older
Speak to me
When it’s only a man a year younger than I am
Breathing his hurt.

Who do I think I am, to know how to handle heartache,
Like it’s an animal to be tamed,
A pudding that needs to be chilled,
A fire to be put out when camping
But you have to wait for the coals to die down enough
So you can go to bed without fear

Who do I think I am..

I am so much a child.
My emotions are not so much liquid explosions inside my ribs
As they are sonar signals bouncing off the walls
But they wont hold still long enough for me to get a good look at
What my emotions truly are.

And what they are not.
869 · Jul 2016
It was a fight
The Willow Jul 2016
and I was a mess

I was talking
talking
                 talking


because I talk to protect myself and try to make sense of things and validate myself and
tell lies
that I didn't even know were untrue.
I had no idea.

It was only after I had fought
(bashed myself to bite sized pieces)
did my shingles fall
they fell
they were covering a color found under my skin that
I
forgot
was
there.

Can you guess what it is?

(It's a searing sapphire. Nearly painful to look at, it's so blue. So deep you can get lost in it, and many do.)

I forgot that I am
sharp
I am
emotional
I am a whirlwind, and storm, a train driving faster and faster

I am all this
and I pretend I am a calm meadow.

I broke myself to bits
against you
to remember the color of my soul is not as passive, as safe
as light as I want to believe.
855 · May 2014
10W
The Willow May 2014
10W
I'll let the silence
speak
for what these words

won't.
The Willow Jul 2016
I realized that I was believing
words are like bait
and the more I put them out in the universe
((for you))
without even your reading them
that maybe you'd come home.

I am the one throwing the bait
But I don't wish to catch you
I want to be caught by you.
The Willow Aug 2016
If falling asleeping on my chest was a sign of affection
Wouldn't you still be talking to me?

If cradling me protected my love as much as my body
Shouldn't I not be bleeding?

If kisses were promises
Would the world stop burning?
804 · Apr 2014
Xylophone Bones
The Willow Apr 2014
Let me play on your xylophone bones
While you tug my heartstrings
Making them stretch so long
I think to myself,
How can anyone love so much?

We’ll run through the park
By my house
And when your hind legs give out,
I’ll sit next to you in the grass
Telling you
It can happen,
But I’m here.
And you’ll get the courage to stand.
In hand
I’ll lead you
But really, you’re leading me.

I was crying.
You remember the day.
You came in unannounced, nosing your way through the cracked door
Like we were playing a game of hide and seek
And you found me
sitting,
Crying about life, about boys, Mom, school.
And you came and jumped up next to me.
And you sat there and let me hug you and you held very still,
A different still from normal where you seize up and hope I get bored
And go away.

This was a moment where the xylophone bones and the heartstring girl
Sat and we played a song
With our understanding.
And the thunder pounded a world of applause
And the rain tapped, encore, encore
And the wind was shocked, for it had finally found a worthy tune to sing to.
The earth was moved
While the world stood still,
The inhabitants unaware of our music.
You gave me courage to stand.

And when your eyes blocked out the sun with their white spots
And you had a tendency to fall down window wells,
It’s ok.
I’ll find you,
I’ll hear your heartbeat and I’ll come and get you
I’ll save you
Because you’ve saved me
When I fell down
And no one else could hear the ground
Thud
With my entire being screaming,
“Why? Why?”

Let me feel your xylophone bones.
I know it’s been too long
And you can no longer play them
I’m sorry I went away to school

I’m sorry we won’t be able to play
Our small orchestra of muscle and bones
Anymore

Lie down, now.
My heartstrings will keep plucking,
Because you gave me the courage to stand.
793 · Nov 2015
Courage
The Willow Nov 2015
I
want
to feel
happy
again.

Even if my head doesn't agree.
I will fight it.
I will fight to live.
The Willow Jul 2016
"Why do you do that? Why do you blame yourself?"

"Because it's easier to believe that my love went wrong then to believe there was never love in them at all.

Because it's easier to believe that it was my fault, then to never trust the world again."
The Willow Nov 2016
I was afraid of heights,
so I grew to 6'1".

I was afraid of never being loved for who I was,
so I wore tight jeans and grew out my hair.

I was afraid of being too sensitive,
so I cried on the bathroom floor instead of your arms.

I was afraid of abandonment,
so I chose every man that couldn't stay.

I was afraid of the hurtful power of words,
so I wrote poetry about you.
The Willow Jul 2016
Stop
The shards of glass
Pressing into my back
From the lack of respect
For yourself
I had nothing to do with the shatter

The clatter
Of my broken bones
Rocks you to sleep I'm
Glad my lonely soul is
A comfort to you in your grief

Believe me when I say
My frame is mine alone
And alone I fought for the
Right to hold my broad shoulders
Against the sky
against my crying will
I have survived.

And it is my intention to do so every day for the rest of my life.
715 · Dec 2015
Smoldering Bones
The Willow Dec 2015
Look at me,
smoldering bones.
You are cooking inside yourself.
You refuse to let out your heat,
so you will burn up.
You will burn.
Open up,
smoldering bones.
you’re withering
wild.
why?


Come with me,
smoldering bones.
We’ll live in places
where your anxieties
die
it’ll be home for you and me.
give me the map for the
maze of your mind,
lonely soul.
I don’t care about the exit
as much as I care to wander
through your weeds
I have them too.


They’re dandelions.
children whose parents didn’t make them learn not to cry
call them wishes.

Let your wishes grow,
wayfaring one.
Your vagabond mind keeps you safe from all those
whose heads have never touched heaven’s eyebrows.


Allow me to love,
smoldering bones.
your eyes screened with your past
don’t block the color.
I understand your heart is out-of-order
at the moment,
but I’m not asking for anything.
Just that you’ll realize you’re worth
loving.
Let me love you, my dark dreamer.
And one day,
you’ll see those weeds as flowers,
as magic.
And then I know,
those smoldering bones
have stopped their smoking
for good.
713 · Dec 2015
Being Alone
The Willow Dec 2015
Heartbreak nights
Your face is cold
The air kisses it
But you're used to warmth.
Where did it all go?
696 · May 2014
Subtext
The Willow May 2014
Hey

[The red thread attached to both of our ribs is tugging
Tugging ]

Hey

[This thread can stretch through space and time
But not through beliefs]

You doing ok?
I can leave you alone if you want
I’m just worried about you.

[The basic core of human beings is the same
Made out of the stars
Formed from flares of
Heavenly dust]

Im ok

[But when the beliefs are different
and one has to say ‘no’
and the other has to say ‘why not’
the thread has a precarious chance of
snapping]


Ok

[Maybe this is the moment where
Our red thread will finally be frayed]

But ill talk to you soon, i promise.

[It would be best, but our ribs would always have the indent where
the string lived for quite some time]

OK. Take all the time you need.**

[Maybe we can begin again.]
696 · May 2014
Unlikely Love
The Willow May 2014
Do I dare? Do I dare?

Do I dare disturb the universe?

There’s a door. A big giant door.
With a big giant lock,
That you can’t unpick.
But the door has the possibility of being unlocked,
Just the possibility.

And so you stay
You lean against the door
Your check against the wood
Wondering what’s on the other side.

You hope, you wonder, if he has his body leaning against the wood
Just like you.

He said he’s been waiting there, so much longer.
How did you not realize?
Or did you?

Did you always know?

Do I dare? Do I dare?
Do I dare disturb the universe?


You’d like to get close, so close.
Touching
Touch me.

I want to touch you.
I want to reach through the knots in the door
To touch your fingertips.

But the knots are so small
And if I reach through my fingers might get stuck.

I’m so stuck on you.
I’m stuck
My face has been against the door for three and a half days
But it feels like the door has an imprint of my face
I’ve been there so long.

Can you hear me?
Can you hear me reaching?
Calling?
Crying?

My stomach doesn’t want food
It won’t let me eat
It won’t
Like a stubborn little kid
“Mommy! I don’t want FOOD, I want HIM!”
“I know honey, but you need food.”
“NOOO!!!!”

I can’t eat, because my stomach is just filled with the butterflies that are drawn with your
words.


And my stomach doesn’t need anything
Else.
The Willow Jul 2016
I couldn't tell you why I miss you
when there is no expectation
no future speculation,
only a deep care for you.


I couldn't tell you why being near you is the most comforting thing in the world,
when I can't measure your affection, trust, or intention.
All I know is, though we are near the same size,
I fit perfectly next to you.
You are my shelter.


I couldn't tell you why you had such a big impact on me.
I couldn't tell you why I said
"I'm afraid you're going to leave again,"
because the first time was hard, but it wasn't
that
hard.

(maybe because it was time.)

[maybe because I felt broken, and you can't sell something that was damaged during shipment]
[the shipment that took me from his face to yours]
[yellow to black]
[you could always take me back and get a refund]

{maybe because there was someone else I couldn't stop thinking about.}
{I didn't want him in my head either.}
{It would be another six months before he left.}

So why can I not stop thinking about this.
When will I stop needing an explanation?
The Willow Dec 2015
I.
When I was a kid
I had this idea that
if I loved
an animal, any animal,
with all my heart,
it would sense that I meant no harm and it would
love me back.
I thought this because I believed
Even an animal
could not hurt something
That loved it so much
And wouldn't do
Anything
To harm it.
The Willow Sep 2017
You think you are the only one you hurt
By calling yourself trash
An idiot
Stupid

You are not.

You hurt my hands
They are reaching out to you
You have put up electric fences
But I still try to reach out

You hurt my heart
There is a place carved for you
The outline of your blue face is buried there
Please, don't be afraid to look out again.

You have my breath
For every day
I pray to God that you may be
Happy
That you may see your beautiful blue and orange soul
And unapologetically
Wear them around your neck

Every day.
Every day.
Every day.
667 · Dec 2015
These Hands
The Willow Dec 2015
Making hands
breaking hands
You can’t seem to stop shaking hands

Lines notched in palms
from grabbing the wrists of the given up
the fortune teller was wrong
your palms are the future’s roadmap
but it’s not just yours
it is ours.
All of ours.

i know about your slamming hands
knuckles white
teeth promising you’ll be all right
these
breaking
aching
hands.

broad shoulder blades
hand holding blade
i would have rather been dead at that moment so i could have been with you
in your dark place
i couldn’t have known then
that you wouldn’t have known
me

I am so glad you exist

These waking hands
moving hair strands
clinging prayer hands
always stay with me
hands

I am so glad you exist

Freckled face
It’s the place i am both entirely stripped
and completely covered
you can see the holes in me
hold me up to the light
your insight will heal me as i am held
in
those hands

This wasn’t the plan
But i don’t think i can ever really leave

These hands.
Dedicated to a man I thought I loved
and wrote poetry about.
But isn't it pretty much the same thing?
665 · May 2018
Nuclear Shadows
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.
647 · May 2014
Mixed signals
The Willow May 2014
I should be my own individual.
Being shut down shouldn't hurt as bad
As it does.
Is it because I'm out of practice
at showing people the real me?

Is the real me what I write on paper, and not
the loud laughter,
the awkward legs,
the easy to talk to, always accepting
me?

I'd like to think that's me, but at this point I'm getting mixed signals
from relationships around me and the relationship between
my external and internal self.
647 · Apr 2014
A mime in love
The Willow Apr 2014
I am the clown whose words got taken away
traded in my voice box for an invisible box
that’s the real joke
The everyday sounds rock my world
footsteps
coins tossed at my feet
mild clapping
laughter
her laugh

You are the face that a black-and-white painted
has been waiting for

She stopped and watched
one day
her feet turned out
as if she were a ballerina
dance with me
move with me
no words are needed
I’m no good with them anyway


I’d peel off every one of my stripes to make a trail
for your daily path
so your feet don’t get wet
and it would lead you right to me
perhaps you’ll stay awhile


And yes, I’m no Charlie Chaplin, but
I would raise a big-top tent for you
complete with all your favorite animals you could
touch
and ride, we’d ride together
dance together
ballerina and mime
atop an elephant
because our love would know no
realm
I cannot do this for real
I haven’t the money

my coins aren’t enough
but I do have my gloves
and with them
I can create worlds
Your imagination is a must
our love would know no realm


You understand how I feel
because we are both movers
we communicate what we cannot say
through our bodies.

You must know
But without words I am simply an act
an interesting act
to mix up your day
I wish you could take this clown seriously

J. Alfred Prufrock
You’re the only one that can speak for me
you write braille on my veins
As they pump blood I can feel the words jumping
“Do I dare? Do I dare?
Do I dare disturb the universe?”



I traded in my voice for a reason not to speak
Would I break who I am if I broke my word?
632 · Aug 2016
An Enabler of Love
The Willow Aug 2016
I hold everything I could want from you
in the palm of my hand,

everything,
but the love that would make me special, and not just
a drug to take
a nutrition shake
a screen
a meme
a thin line of white
I can see you're not all right

You are addicted to something you've never taken
and I could be your release.
The Willow Jul 2016
I think I fell in love with you then.
But you're a different person now.

And you can't expect to look at
old photographs
To see what the weather will be like tomorrow.
The Willow Jul 2016
What is my complete honesty
without you watching the walls come down first?

What are long kisses
without long absence?

What are the endless conversations of "Calm down, you're overthinking this,"
without the moments of complete bliss powerful enough to trigger weeks of stress?

What are these emotions that have been let loose on the world,
without the doubt that I wasn't allowed to feel these things?

Because what is my poetry
Without you?
The Willow Feb 2018
Fight back,*

he says.

When those thoughts come of ending it, you have to fight back.

       my brain is addicted to sabotage,
      conflicted between overdosing on dopamine and
      self actualization.

     My wrists hurt from the work of self-loathing,
     careful girl, your evil soul is showing

     my pacing complacency faces the fact
     that he's not coming back
     I don't know how much he was ever here to begin with.

     Hide your evil soul, my child,
     complaining only puts the brain at it again,
     explain to me again how you were ever thought to be
     beautiful.

fight back, my love, fight back.

Who is it that is talking? Who is it that is wanting me alive, that has done everything in the power to keep me here?
There have been days where the sky itself was holding up my shoulders to keep my closer to the sun than my grave.
613 · May 2014
Is love real?
The Willow May 2014
Music
Movies
Books
Poetry
Breathing
Life

It all makes so much more sense now that I’ve been exposed to this
Real
Love.

Is it real?

If it isn’t necessary,
convenient,
or ethical,

Is it real?

It’s as real as the ten pounds I lost
Because the nerves in my stomach confused infatuation with sickness

It’s as real as the days and days I spent in bed with my phone by my side
Just waiting
Because I couldn’t stop thinking about him

It’s as real as the smile I taste when we talk
And the anxiety I get as I hear
“I have to go”
and the seconds I wait after we say goodbye
As I hear him press the button to hang up
Because it is my way of being able to touch him
Because I sense him hanging up
And that makes me feel more whole.

Is this love as real as him being able to touch me through the phone
as he presses the "end" button?

Or is it all just as invisible as the electrical currents that connect
my voice to his?
611 · Jul 2014
The Love Fighter
The Willow Jul 2014
When I was young
My mother wouldn’t let me watch
Wresting on TV
She said it would make me want to fight
For a living
And she didn’t want to raise a daughter
Like that.


So instead I strapped
Kindness to my fists

And pushed beautiful words between my teeth
a vow of never leaving anyone to the lying voices in their head.

I chose a stance where my neck was available
In case someone in their war decided they need to hide for a while
In my arms
And bury their face away from the world
allowing our fung shei of friendship to arrange furniture pieces
of our humble home
which our relationship created together.

I chose this world
Of quiet starting bells,
where the only coach was my consciousness yelling
Did you fight the very best you could?

And I would say
Yes sir
Or
No sir

And regardless of the answer,
he’d get in my face and yell
Work harder
Train fiercer
Be bolder

And I’d nod and say,

Yes sir

Of course sir.

But I didn’t expect someone to enter the ring,
Put a mirror in front of my face, and say

Go.

And I didn’t expect blood to fall from my mouth
In pools spelling out the words I never dared to say

I didn’t expect my bones to shatter
Turning quickly to powder from only
The light refracting off a piece of shined glass

My shoulders born to hold lost souls were
Useless
In this fight

Don’t get me wrong;
I had been beaten before,
But no one who had left me this damaged,
No one who made my coach shake his head,
No one who brought me terrified at the thought of entering the ring again
And the only enemy I had fought was myself.
602 · Jul 2016
How do you say help?
The Willow Jul 2016
In the questions repeated
Or the questions unsaid?

The connections rekindled
Or the ones left for dead?

Is it in the way I speak to people too much
Or the way silence has left a mark?

Is it in the way I can't ask for help at all
When all I want to do is ask and ask and ask and ask and ask
How you are.

Do I ask for help every time I color my hair red
Or the way I cut your hair?

I need help
But vulnerability is a vice too dangerous to carry around
I didn't get a concealed carrier permit for my loneliness
So I just plan to never use it against someone.
They'll never have to know as long as it never shows.

I showed you. But vulnerability is a vice:
Too dangerous to fake,
And too unrewarding to be real.
How do I heal?

How do I scream yell fight bite cry out that I'm feeling things but what are they all for?

Love.
Love.
Love.
How do I care for it?
Where is the instruction manual to this creature called love and how do you get it to not **** you when it turns to night?

I just want to make things right.
To not be deceivable
To be believable to even the critics of the show in my head.

How do I ask for help
When I don't even know if you're the one who can help me?
The Willow Dec 2015
My nails
are grating against
the cliffs of
reason and sanity.

I don't want to fall again.
Please.
591 · Jul 2017
You remind me of the rain.
The Willow Jul 2017
It poured today. Lightening
Perpetually
Sporadically
Making the sky simmer.

Not unlike the way
i smiled
And laughed
(I glowed)
Around you.
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