Venus

Venus 6d

my hands tremble
around something fragile—
this feeling,
us.

i don’t know
how to hold it
without destroying it.

so i drop it.

a word too sharp,
a silence too long,
a doubt
creeping slowly
up from my stomach

and suddenly,
i’m tearing at the seams
of something wonderful
just to see
if it will hold.

but every time i do,
i can feel the insides spilling out.
the stitching giving way,
as it always does.

and i hate myself
for being unable to love
without breaking
all at once.

Venus Jul 16

there is always a reason.

i stay because i’m needed.
my friends,
my family,
my cats.
they tether me gently to this world,
and i love them for it.

but still,
i’m tired in a way sleep can’t fix.
i carry a kind of grief that doesn’t come
from any one thing,
and never really ends.

i would never wish this on anyone.
but sometimes i wish someone could feel it,
just for a moment—
the weight i carry,
the quiet ache of living in my mind.

not so they’d hurt,
but so they’d understand
why surviving sometimes feels
like hell on earth.

i’m still here.
i’m still trying.
but it’s heavy.
and the weight is starting to win.

we can’t afford another funeral.

Venus Jul 9

07/04

she still looks like herself..
porcelain, yet fierce.
but there is now
something ghost-like
shifting behind her eyes.

she’s forgotten how to hold me,
the way she used to.
when i was small enough
to believe her arms
were impenetrable.

she calls my name,
but something doesn’t sound right.
like someone else
is wearing her voice.

i keep looking—
longing for the softness
she used to keep
behind her teeth.
but all i find
is bitterness
and conversations
i can’t sit through.

at times i wonder,
if she mourns me too
the child she formed
from the softest parts of herself,
who learned to disappear
the second she did.

Venus Jul 7

Untitled

my cheeks, do they feel soft?
when they’re covered by tears.
my eyes, do they mesmerize you?
when they can’t stand to look you in yours.
my hips, do they ****** you?
when they’re poking out of my skin.
my words, do they move you?
when they’re so stretched thin.

i ask, for once, that you open your eyes and truly see me.

Venus Jul 3

fuel is food

i still feel all of my hate.
twisting in my stomach,
gnawing away at my thighs,
hollowing the spaces
where softness used to live.

one more hit—
and the hunger goes quiet.
yes one more hit—
and the pain subsides,
just long enough
for all of my hate
to finally consume
the last tender parts of me.

Venus Jun 30

Untitled

how cruel it is
to be trapped in a mind
who’s only intention
is self destruction.

Venus Jun 18

Coffee

i don’t like coffee.
too bitter.
too bold.
the kind of thing that leaves its taste behind,
long after it’s gone.

but you—
you didn’t ask me to like it.
you were always patient,
while i slowly sipped it.
and somehow, it started to taste sweet on my tongue,
like something i could get used to.

now i find myself craving the quiet it brings,
the way it lingers— always soft and steady
i still don’t like coffee.
but i’ve grown to love the way it tastes with you.

i’ve started to wonder;
was it the coffee i didn’t like?
or where i chose to sip my cup.?