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Amaya K Lilium Aug 2010
It’s been a while since I’ve seen you.
        (and it’s been longer
        since I’ve been able to think about you
        without breaking down.)

I didn’t think you’d be here,
much less talk to me.
        (Worth your time now, am I?)
It’s nice to see you; I’ve noticed you’ve put on some weight,
but that smile of yours
        (the one that I love)
hasn’t changed a bit.

How have you been?
Ah, still dating him, eh?
        (and you still hang all over him,
        God that used to **** me off.)

That’s good, I suppose…
        (seeing how you left me for him, he’d better have ******* stuck around)
You two were an unlikely pair
        (I never told you what he said that night
        two months before he starting dating you)

but I guess that doesn’t matter anymore.

Do you have any close friends anymore?
        (anyone who can keep your secrets as well as I did?)
        (or did you desert everyone like you deserted me,
        too caught up in “love” to bother with anyone else?)

And tell me, do you believe that you’re beautiful now?
        (Are my words still on your mirror?)
Do you remember those things I used to tell you
to make you smile?
        (Did he ever do that for you?
        Or did he just ******* really well?)


Do you ever think about me?
        (Do you miss what we had?)
        (And does it hurt you as much as it hurts me to remember?
        I hope it does.)

Do you remember that promise you made me,
right before you told me we were over?
        (I was willing to forgive you. I was willing to believe…)
        (if you actually gave a **** about keeping me around.)

You hurt me so much.
        (Why couldn’t we have worked this out?)
        (I really meant so little to you?)

I still love you, you know.
I hate you for what you did to me.
        …I think I miss you.

                *Why couldn’t you have tried a little harder?
Two years later and I am finally to the point where I can start talking about the pain.
Italics is the part of me that still loves her.
Bold is the part of me that is still very bitter and angry.
Normal is what I'd most likely say to her if we ever talked again.
Amaya K Lilium Aug 2010
Not quite spoons
And not quite forks;
These tools are great for eating,
But they don’t have much torque.

That’s okay though,
I don’t hold it against them,
I just want to congratulate
The person who invented them.

For being made of plastic
They’re really quite resilient.
A spoon/fork combination?
Sporks are ****** brilliant!
Lacking inspiration, I asked a friend for a topic. She said sporks, so in less than five minutes, I came up with this. I'm actually pretty pleased with it, all things considered, haha.
Amaya K Lilium Jun 2010
Peace of mind is ephemeral,
drifting in harmony, then abruptly skewed.
The quintessence of humanity lost in the blink of an eye.
A gravitational pull overwhelms
Persistent
Tugs at the edges of reality
Patient
Disseminates thoughts, life
Painful
There is no escape as the jarring force draws inward,
voraciously swallowing everything in reach.

Distorting changes,
a myriad of sights, sounds,
besiege a troubled mind.

Blackness
Heavy and infinite
A suffocating contradiction to everything that was.
Ripping, tearing
Impossible void of compressed nothingness.
Twisting, rearranging
Pretentious "used to be"s into trembling trepidation,
too adrift to find the way back.

This is the point of no return.
Who is that person in the mirror now?
Amaya K Lilium Jun 2010
This morning I awoke to find
a spider crawling in my mind,
cobwebs laced around my feet,
and the closet, for once, so empty and neat.
My face feels chipped; my paint is cracking-
what happened to the flurry of the packing?
Was I was forgotten on this shelf alone?
I dream that someday you’ll come home,
dust me off and hold me tight
like you did during those stormy nights.
I knew you loved me way back then.
Will I ever see you or your smile again?
For now I’ll sit and wait and watch your door,
simply thankful I wasn’t left on the floor.
Amaya K Lilium Jul 2010
Oh this pounding in my head -
why won’t the voices stop?
Pressure builds behind my eyes,
with this pain I will surely drop.
Can I hold on much longer?
This is no piece of cake.
Someone please find me some relief
for this splitting headache!
Amaya K Lilium Feb 2011
Her body is an empty canvas,
and Oh God, how I anticipate
the red streaks my brush will leave
as it carves intricate patterns
on her pale flesh.

Her body is my canvas
and my sick, twisted fantasy -
my inspiration.

Her body is a canvas
and her screams the soundtrack
as I create a masterpiece
under the steely glint
of my art studio.

Her body was a canvas,
now a beautiful work of art
to add to my growing collection

of still life.
Amaya K Lilium Feb 2011
Do I get to say “I love you” second?
Because I’m always saying it first,
And even though you say it back
As you kiss my forehead goodnight,
I can’t help but think that kissing me on the forehead
Gives you the chance to avoid my eyes.
Amaya K Lilium Jun 2010
Wings beating at the air,
pushing bodies from the ground,
intrigued me as a child.
Birds
   Bats
      Angels
         Dragons
            and other winged creatures
beckoned me to join them
through pages and fairy tales I held dear.
I wanted to be like them;
to have wings and fly
to places only imagined.
But life is cruel,
and I got my reality check
sooner than I was ready to let go.
I know now
that humans will never fly
    with wings of bone
        and skin
            and feathers.
I am forever bound to the Earth,
this place.
                  And yet…
                                  I still dream.
Amaya K Lilium Feb 2011
I've long stopped wondering
why you don't answer.
There's a part of me
(an arguably stupid part)
that still wants to hear your voice.
Some days I catch myself
staring at the phone –
Listening and Waiting -
or looking for the postman –
Watching and Waiting -
with great anticipation
for an answer from you.
I know you won't call
and you probably haven't read
a single one of the many letters I've sent.
Still, I will patiently and loyally wait
for the phone to ring,
with your number glowing
on the caller ID screen,
or for a letter to appear,
with your messy handwriting
scrawling my name across an envelope.
I got an idea and started writing. Before I knew it, I had this. Opinions and suggestions are welcomed.
Amaya K Lilium Jun 2010
I sit outside your house, lights off.
Life goes on but I'm still here.
I followed you on your way home
so when I've lost myself I can sit here,
pretend you'll come find me,
and wish you could be the miracle
that would save my broken heart.

Wait, what's this?
To my surprise you walk out your front door,
through the yard, to my car.
You open the door, come inside,
and you find me.
Your hands roam across my body, my soul,
and your lips meet mine
You breath life into me; I am alive!
But I know this isn't real -
or at least it won't last for forever -
so I close my eyes and savor
this moment in time
that is yours as much as mine,
where loneliness is nothing more
than a long forgotten pain.
Amaya K Lilium Jun 2010
Would you mind if tonight I cared not
for the events to surely come
and those who have passed us by?
Forgive me, I cannot find the strength
to push these apathetic thoughts away.
I know it's hopeless, so make me care.
I feel the Gods have fallen into slumber
and I the only one left
to hold the weight of the universe
in my human hands.
So forgive me for my lack of sympathy
or my display of unnerving weakness;
I am only human.
Amaya K Lilium Jun 2010
She paces the floors of that empty house
like a feral animal - caged.
Alone in darkness
the hours drag on; nothing stirs,
or is she the one truly sleeping?
Wandering through solemn shadows, dreaming
there is music carved on her walls
as forgotten as nails
left behind -
by whom?
None shall know.
Her morose, hollow voice sings along
with no tune and no ending.
Detached notes strung together
run across the wallpaper,
through the floorboards,
but never through the door.
Her body dances in rays of moonlight
like a marionette controlled by chains.
She longs to join the stars,
flickering sparks of light in a sea of dark,
if only she could reach.
Restrained, she flows in free pattern
faster, faster
until imagination gives her wings.
Her spirit stretches then,
reaching for those stars.
Amaya K Lilium Jun 2010
Tonight I'll fight beside my anger;
daring to scream these words I feel.
Admitting these, a heinous crime,
but release feels so surreal.

Tonight I'll cry with my sorrow,
lay my fears to rest a while,
and attempt to gather the tiny fragments.
Don't touch me - I'm fragile.

Tonight I'll bleed with my pain
until I am left drained and hollow.
I search for a feeling of contentment,
knowing I'll be better by tomorrow.

Tonight I'll speak my mind.
You are a stranger to me, no friend;
but your attention and silence comforts me,
until I may resume my life again.
Amaya K Lilium Jun 2010
Remember the scars, remember the date;
Everyone keeping the promise you hate.
Minutes, hours, days crawl by,
Every single second another chance for goodbye.
Mourning the lost of what you long to find,
Being forgotten, always left behind.
Everyone still keeping that promise you hate,
Remembering the scars but forgetting the date.
Amaya K Lilium Jun 2010
The closer you
     pull him
The further you
     push me
          Away.

The more you
     kiss him
The less I
     fake each
          day.

I can't keep this
     heart beating when
All I know is
     Pain.

I said no
     for you
You wouldn't say
     anything for
          me.

Your feelings for
     him shown
Mine I can't
     let you
          see.

A blood stain on
     my shirt the
Only thing to
     give me Away.

The promise you
     made me
The promise I
     can't take
          any more.

What I gave
     up for you
Only for you
     to shut the
          door.

You are so
     blinded by this;
I am so
     sick of this.

For you I became a
     Sacrifice,
But this act I won't
     commit twice.

I've learned my lesson.
Amaya K Lilium Jun 2010
Stepping in the footsteps
of mistakes made long ago;
I can't seem to stop myself
from trudging through this snow.
I cannot see the light ahead
or any from behind.
My thoughts have seemed to disappear -
there's nothing here to find.
I feel like I'm running in circles;
around and around I go.
Forever trapped inside my head,
there's no where else to go.
I don't know why I'm stuck here,
but there's one thing that I do know;
if you ever think to look for me,
you'll find me buried in the snow.
Amaya K Lilium Jun 2010
What does it matter to you?
My screams mean nothing to you.
Clawing, scratching, scrambling
for something, anything to cling to.
****** fingers and blind eyes;
no one else can hear these cries.
My mind: shattered, broken, defeated,
smeared on the floor for all to see.
The only voice I hear in the dark -
my Demon with his painful remarks.
Words ring off the walls; he speaks
velvet Lies into my ears for weeks.
Humanely malicious;
he tears my mind asunder.
Lusciously venomous;
he drags my broken body under.
There is no cure, no escape;
he is my twisted fate.
When I am vulnerable, he crawls to my side.
There is no one to tell me otherwise.
So what does it matter to you?
My screams never meant anything to you.
Amaya K Lilium Feb 2011
Wings beating at the air,
Pushing bodies from the ground,
Intrigued me as a child.
Birds
   Bats
      Angels
         Dragons
    Other winged creatures
Beckoned me to join them
Through pages and fairy tales I held dear.
I wanted to be like them;
To have wings and fly
To places only imagined.
But life is cruel,
And I got my reality check
Sooner than I was ready to let go.
I know now
That Humans will never fly
    With wings of bone
        And skin
            And feathers.
I am forever bound to the Earth,
This place.
                  And yet…
                                   I still dream.
I wrote this about four years ago back when I was in high school. I don't think I'll rewrite it, but feel free to point out any flaws if you'd like.
Amaya K Lilium Jul 2015
Every time I hear your voice
come to me like static from bad radio,
"You should sleep."
"Why aren't you eating?"
"You do this to yourself..."
I would like to tear through your skin with my fingernails.
"You're only making it worse."
"If you'd only change your attitude..."
makes me want to scream until my throat is raw.
I don't have to be bleeding from my wrists
to be fighting back the consuming numbness
and I wish I could claw at your place in my heart
until it matches the emptiness I feel.
When will you see that it's not for lack of trying
when I am driven to such neglect?
I am succumbing to the hollow pain in my chest.
Amaya K Lilium Jun 2010
What is that red stuff all on the floor?
I don't recall it being there before.
Could it be from this gaping wound in my chest
where you ripped out my heart and claimed it was for the best?
Then you spoke those words that shook me to the core,
"I think it's very clear: you're not wanted anymore."

It's too bad that the only touch
I'll ever know from your hand
is the sharp sting of your love.
This couldn't be what we planned.
Teetering on the edge of a broken smile
and not knowing when the pain will end.

So I stand and scream my lungs to the sky,
"I will not allow my love to die!"
Help me finish what I couldn't start,
because I can't stand to fall apart.
I can't think of a title for this poem, so it gets the generic "untitled" title.
Amaya K Lilium Jun 2010
What's the point in breathing?
Her toes grip the edge.
What's the point in breathing?
Her arms stretch out wide.
What's the point in breathing?
Her eyes close slowly.
There is no point in breathing.
She lets go
Amaya K Lilium Aug 2010
It's one of those nights - again.
My hope drips away, but I don't want to
Stop The Bleeding.
A scream claws at my throat
and I drown it down with another shot,
preceded by my medication.
Love Is The Movement
but no one has ever said to me,
“Wake Up, You’re Alive.
We’re On Your Side.”
So I'll fight this on my own
because here's the thing:
I have a whole list of people
who tell me I should just
Pick Up The Phone,
but they don't really understand
this sick obsession of mine.
I'm so tired of all this
pretending-to-care *******
everyone keeps feeding me.
"You Are Not Alone"
is nothing more than another lie.
Sure, I guess for some people
Rescue Is Possible,
but part of me has already died.
I am not glorifying or condoning the act of self mutilation. If you are thinking of harming yourself or committing suicide, or know someone who is having those thoughts, please reach out for help and contact someone you trust.

To Write Love On Her Arms is a non-profit organization to help those struggling with self mutilation, suicide, depression, and addiction. The phrases "Stop The Bleeding", "Love Is The Movement", "Wake Up, You're Alive. We're On Your Side", "Pick Up The Phone", "You Are Not Alone", and "Rescue Is Possible" do not belong to me, I just borrowed them for this poem.

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