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3.0k · Nov 2013
A Dedication
Anna Nov 2013
She lends her pen,
to thoughts of him,
that flow from it,
in her solitary.

For she is his poet,
And he is her poetry.*

-Lang Leav
2.7k · Nov 2013
A Toast!
Anna Nov 2013
"to love is a dare
when hope and despair,
are gates upon it hinges."*

-Lang Leav
2.1k · Aug 2016
la douleur exquise
Anna Aug 2016
you are an exquisite pain,
an acquired taste for tears.
to love you and to leave unscathed
is like running through the summer forrest
and trying not to be torn by the thistles.
my flesh split to pieces
yet there is more blood to give
and wolves are howling in the distance,
they won’t give up.
the agony, the ache
of the almost that is ‘us’.
to graze something so wonderful
but in the end, fall short.
to love you is to give you my all
and have you still ask for more.
to drain the light from my eyes,
chasing until vanished
and I am left here, in the dark
with no way out.
1.9k · Jan 2014
the only loves i ever had
Anna Jan 2014
aaron carter
my slobbering , always smiling labrador
the words of sylvia plath
the cold metallic feel of razors
and death.

but now, i think myself might be a candidate.
Anna May 2013
darkness crept in
with his heavy feet on the floor
and his hot breath on my neck

mocking tone pierces
my vulnerable mind
and i crumble

a surface crack breaches
a sitting duck
for a gust of wind

blinded by the vision
of how things should be
and what will never happen

sitting at the fork
watching the boats pass
as i am unable to move

the light has faded
the sun has set
and i have waited hours for the dawn

but i keep my eyes to the east
and i will wait many more
for the sun to rise.
Anna Oct 2013
million tiny ants
crawling up and down my spine
hummingbird in chest

cold sweat is beading
on my burning body red
eyes dry from crying so

im not going to ******* sleep tonight
1.4k · Dec 2013
Reasons
Anna Dec 2013
I wish I knew why he left. What his reasons were.
Why he changed his mind.

For all these years, I have turned it over in my
head--all the possibilities--yet none of them make
any sense.

And then I think, perhaps it was because he never
loved me. But that makes the lease sense of all.*

-Lang Leav
1.4k · Apr 2014
The Addict, A Magician
Anna Apr 2014
This morning I awoke clutching your name
with such reckless devotion that it turned to dust,
each letter fell to the floor. I know where you went,
long before you vanished inside of your name,

long before the grave. You sank into your body
like a river, guided by the low light burning
on the horizon. I know how you found us:
the pipe is a beacon. The pipe is a lighthouse.

You wanted to know how to remove the emptiness
from yourself. We never understood it cannot be
removed. It is not a pulsing seed in the gut, or a peach pit
run into the mud. We weren't drug addicts, we said

we were scientists. We experimented each day.
Sent the smoke down into the deep mine of the chest
as though it were a rope with a hook at the end of it
to pull the emptiness back out. We partitioned ourselves
away to the dark piece by piece, we did not remove
the emptiness but further became it.

The mind of the addict is cunning enough
to convince the body it is not dying.
Houdini doesn't have **** on an addict,
he was able to convince everyone but himself
he had vanished. Addiction is the ethereal art
of forgetting that you are still here.

I know where you went, before the syringe perched
in your arm and whistled through the vein
like a steam engine, before the crack rock broke apart
in a blaze of light as though it were an egg hatching fire.

I know what it is to walk down an unlit street at midnight
and have a gun cocked in your mouth. I know what it is
to discover the gun shaking in your own hand.
The most dangerous neighborhood
is the one in my own head.

This is a game of masks.
A Rorschach test of the mind.
QUESTION: what do you see?
Anything I want.
This is the magic of perception.

The difference between an addict
and one who is drowning
is the one who is drowning knows it.
The addict will drink the sea until it becomes him.

Even now, five years sober and when I smell whiskey
from across the room my mouth still waters.
I have not fed my skin a blade for nearly a decade
for fear of what I might let out.
What sleeps must one day wake,
even when you sneak through your own life like a thief.

I having spent whole nights lying awake asking why
I made it and you didn't. I can still hear death pawing
at the outskirts of town, as you vanished inside
the needle in your arm and I swayed
from the edge of a bridge, neither one of us
was any more deserving of this life.

I feel ill to even think it, but I have to thank you,
some days your death is all that stands between me
and a drink. There were days I went as far
as to hold a bottle in my hand,
but couldn't bring myself to swallow
because your name was stuck in my throat.

There were weeks I couldn't walk two blocks
from my door without being asked
if I wanted some kush, some glass, some white,
some snow, some jack up, some jelly beans,
some dust, some rock, some good ****.

And each time I heard your voice ask me,
"how badly do you want this life?
you didn't deserve it then, but you got it,
so what are you willing to do, to keep it?"
Michael Lee
1.4k · Mar 2014
(p.s.)
Anna Mar 2014
I cannot forgive you
for your past mistakes
because they are wrapped up inside my chest,
burning like the summer sun.

I cannot forget
the nights when I felt like nothing
and I held a bottle of yellow pills in my hand
because you pushed me over the edge.

I will not forgive
this feeling of absolute sadness
wrapped up inside of me,
I will not forgive
the stab wounds to my back
that the words you couldn't speak to my face left.

I will not forgive the person I became
because you said I wasn't good enough
(and I still never will be).

I'm sorry my words come out
when I'm neck deep in alcohol,
but drunk words are sober thoughts
and I've never been known to keep my mouth shut.

You are everything I never wanted to be around,
a disease of the mind, body, and soul,
and I cannot forgive you
for being the decay that is my demise.
1.4k · May 2013
the responsible thing
Anna May 2013
Your eyes circled
With shades of black
From the late nights
Of dealing with your monsters.

Life retreated from those blues
Many years ago.
I watched as the light faded,
Casting a dark shadow over your vision.

Death consumed the soul
You claimed you never had.
Becoming infatuated with the end
Than life itself.

Living for what tomorrow holds,
It wasn’t living at all.
Sensing your absence
Even when you were right in front of me.

You told me there is no God,
That this is all we have:
A cruel world
Crawling with greedy creatures.

People who have judged,
Took you in and threw you out,
Leaving scars and ghosts
That take residence in your mind.

There is no escape for you
Except by the means of a needle.
Apparently chemicals give you
Far more than I ever could.

You retreat into the darkness
The hole you dug yourself
Fleeing from the light.
From the world. From me.

Going through great lengths
I tried to save you.
But you didn’t want to be saved.
And you hated me for that.

The monsters escaped your closet.
No quarantine can save you now.
Because they not only reside in us
But in you as well.

You ask, “What’s the point
To this absurd life we lead?”
Constantly kicked to the ground
But this time, you can’t regain footing.

Exhausted by disappointment
Drained of emotion
You just want to end it all.
It would be easier, right?

You just want to feel loved, desired.
But babe, you are unable to see
How the blanket of intoxication
Blinds you from what’s before your eyes.

You say you hate everyone,
That no one understands.
Then who was I?
I was nothing to you.

I could have chose a simpler path,
Spare me this obnoxious ache.
Intrigued by this dangerous flame,
I was unable to resist.

I came too close,
Now scorched by the fire.
And I am unsure of when
This pain will subside.

With clear vision I can see
How our story will conclude.
Not only destroying yourself,
I will be capsized. I will be the one that loses.

You will end me,
My darling.
Take this knife from my chest
Before it sinks any further.

I’ve tried and I’ve tried.
You kept pushing me away.
So maybe this loneliness that accompanies you
Is more self-inflicted than realized.

I love you, my dear.
And that’s what makes this so difficult.
But I cannot continue searching for
What does not want to be found.

I can’t save you from yourself,
The monster that’s inside of you.
But I realized I can spare me
And I’m afraid that’s what I must do.
falling in love with a drug addict
1.3k · Jun 2013
saturday afternoon
Anna Jun 2013
Your wine-drenched kisses
Turned tangled feet under covers
And cigarette taste
1.2k · Mar 2014
fuck buddies
Anna Mar 2014
Kisses trailing along his collarbone. Lips blanketing his golden skin. Mesmerized by the slopes, dips, valleys of his body. Fingertips electrifying trace every open space of flesh exposed. Thumbs resting on the carvings around his smile. Sweet taste on my mouth, venom coursing through my veins. Settling in the pit of my stomach, dripping to my toes. Slowing the beat of my heart. His palms burning holes into the small of my back, body magnetized to his.
I swear at that moment, the world itself ceased. The angels above, if their existence is certain, looked down in envy. For something this good cannot be true.
1.2k · Oct 2013
public speaking
Anna Oct 2013
I remember Mondays in Coach Mac's class. How I loathed yet loved this occurrence. During the period of poetry, each student was asked to write one of their own and read them aloud in class. To write your feelings, your thoughts, onto lined paper and stand in class constructed spot light, asked to peel the skin off of your body to display.

Others mastered the art of avoidance. Of detachment. They often wrote about how fall was coming or an ode to another classmate. But I was never good at running. So I wrote. Not of happiness because he is a stranger to me. I wrote of what I've known for the past five years of my life.

They told me I had talent. And each Monday they anticipated the moment that I would stand up and read.

They wanted to hear my words. They wanted to know the hopelessness of depression and the consuming sadness that I have only known. They hung on to every syllable of my heartbreak and every stroke of ink of my depression. They wanted to know. They wanted to hear. They held on because I wrote words that discomforts, subjects tucked under the rug. I wrote about the raw experiences they themselves could not verbalize. Yet they were familiar.

They wanted the words from someone else's mouth.

They fell in love with my depression but they never wanted to help.
1.1k · Oct 2013
rock bottom
Anna Oct 2013
Happiness, you liar!
Hope, you thief!
Wasting away my thoughts
And my time.

I could run miles and miles
Feet gushing blood
In pursuit of you, Happiness,
Never within reach.

As Hope whispers in my ear
Painting a world that is not there.
Building me up
Only to be blindsided by reality.

They team up,
Taunting me.
So naïve
For ever believing them.

The world can keep its happiness
And silence its hope.
I don’t desire either one.
Thoughts built on delusion.

If I never climb,
I will never fall.
And sometimes,
That seems best.
1.1k · Oct 2013
nyquil blanket
Anna Oct 2013
uncomfortable itching skin
wooly sweater clung around
my neck. closed fist around my
chest. tip-toeing, balancing
upon eggshells around myself.
unwilling to utter the two
syllables. thoughts tugging on
leash, restricted corners too
dangerous for venture. fear
of the uncomfort, of acceptance.
but there are times where
self-control is out of reach
where it strays, undetected.
heaviness of slumber suppresses
barriers, finding my way
back to you. and for those
eight hours i find me
in your arms, dancing to
jazz tunes. and for those
eight hours you lips taste
of peppermint and cigarettes.
and for those eight hours
i finally feel the comforting
warmth of your voice and
the musical tones of your
laughter.

to my dismay, the sun
ultimately rises and time
comes that i must wake once
again. brief moments of normality
and confined happiness. once again
the cold sinks in and
my chest concretes, lump
in throat and strained vocal
chords. once again i
find myself on the ledge of sanity
and hysterics. and then i
realize i've always been
this way.
1.1k · Nov 2013
failure by design
Anna Nov 2013
18* years
6,570 days
157,680 hours
9,460,800 minutes
567,648,000 seconds

is my life.

18 years I have lived,
brought up by a family
where emotions and love
was viewed as sin.
18 years I have begged
for fatherly affection
and for a mother's patience.
18 years I have lived in shadow
of the first child. of the one
that could do none but all wrong.

my life was not like most.
always pressured to be perfect
but that's been heard before.
but to stand there beside my father
already an insecure 15 year old
and have him bash my accomplishments
in front of my face. talking down
to me. to do more.
you can always do better.

7 years
you get the point
i have not known happiness.
i have lived with this heavy
presence all around me.
he became his own person.
Depression hung around my neck
like an anchor, constantly pulling
me to the ground and each time
i think this would be the final
time. the time that i could not
get up. wrapping around my
chest, squeezing the life
out of me. the breath.

4 years
i hated myself so much
overwhelmed by hate
worry and sadness
that i would go into my
room, take out my pocket knife
and carve away the pain.
let the blood flow.
scars up and down my
wrists and legs.
i would cry out in pain.
they knew.
they all knew what i was doing.
they were in the next room in fact.
but in my house, if you didn't
acknowledge a problem, it
didn't exist.
but my sickness did exist.
and i was left alone with it
for it to destroy me.
and so it did.

2 years
ago, i met this boy
who seemed quite nice at first
he was my first real boyfriend
and i trusted him.
but he had a monster behind that mask
that appeared every time i
would want to see my friends
or even spoke back to him.
he hit me. simple as that.
he hit me and choked me
and knocked me down to the ground
he told me i should **** myself
and i told him i already considered it.
i told myself that he was just playful
to stop being such a ***** about it.
i was afraid to leave him because
no one else would love me.
i would look in the mirror,
bruises around my neck
and his entire handprint
around my arm. i lied to my
mom when she asked, and she
believed me to avoid conflict.
it wasn't until in september
that we got into an argument in
the school's parking lot. it
was around 4 o'clock, we stayed
for film club so the lot was vacant.
he was angry, more so than usual.
he grabbed my arms and shook me violently.
slapped my face and threw me to the concrete
and left me there.
he drove off while i was unable to move
blinded by the pain in my head
from bashing it on the pavement
and crying out for anybody.
it seemed like forever until
my friends came out from the building
and found me.

1 year
i attempted suicide. (let's forget this make believe meter) i can't specify why i wanted to die because it was everything. ever since i can remember, i've been hoping for death to come. for it to be accidental because i didn't have the ***** to **** myself off. and it didn't happen as some great event, as some dramatic turning point. it was a realization of complete unhappiness with my life. of a definite desire for death. that i had nobody. i never knew love. never had affection. that being alive was just painful. and so, by my old means, i took the razor blade from under *the collected works of edgar allan poe
and i sat on the floor. without a second thought, i jabbed it into my wrist, pulling the blade up. it wasn't long until my entire hand was coated by a crimson glove. my entire body throbbed, rocking me softly to sleep.apparently my parents found me in time. lucky me.

9 months
i have lived a somewhat different life. i decided not to rely on the love of others, but for me to love myself. and believe me, i'm still working on it. my wounds have turned to scars. nasty, ugly ones. but i'm in love with them. despite the antidepressants and the counseling, i still have bad days. i still miss the relief of cutting. i miss it more than anything. but those days no longer consume me.

you call me a mistake? i might be, but not in relation to you. others may read this, but it's you in which this matters. you wasted those days because you refused to act. i will take responsibility when needed, but this wasn't on me.

**you couldn't have possibly loved me, because you never knew me.
1.1k · Jan 2014
Untitled
Anna Jan 2014
my psychiatrist tells me to find the source of my hate in order to defeat it. in order to manipulate it back into a positive effect.
my source of hate is in myself, of myself. of the stupid, childish things that i mistakenly and purposefully do. like letting people in. getting attached to them and exposing them to...well...me. i'm embarrassed of myself and i don't want other people to be punished by my presence. i hate myself because i get to know these beautifully ugly people just to push them away...or let them slide through the creases of my fingers. i hate myself because i drove myself insane. i refused help when i knew i needed it and then lashed out because i was all alone. i hate myself because i couldn't even succeed in suicide. i hate myself because i hate living. i hate myself because i loved him more than anything. i hate myself because i allow him to continuously abuse me. i hate myself because i chose arkansas. i hate myself because i had the chance to live with him and so i'm the reason why we're not together. and i have to live with that. i have to live with wondering whether he's using again or if he returned to that *** crusted blonde *****.
but most of all, i hate myself because i can't be happy with what i willingly chose.

i love myself.
i don't need a reason for that.
1.0k · Feb 2015
sleepover
Anna Feb 2015
your skin tastes empty, my love,
sweet fallacies on my teeth
pulled your words from my tongue
how bitter they could be.

I memorized the curves of your back
and the rising and falling of shoulder blades.
what I remember most of all is the
sound of my voice begging you to see me.

the air was cold
you never turned around
scratching your spine
biting your collar
please see me.
999 · Aug 2013
rhetorical
Anna Aug 2013
Where are you?
But, my dear,
You are in my dreams,
My nightmares.
You are there
Laying in the empty space
On my bed
As I wake up.
You are in the mirror,
My tired, defeated reflection.
Every heavy footstep
Reminds me
Of the many more
I will have to take
Without you next to me.
I see you in the crowd.
Everyone has your face.
Everyone has your voice.
Everyone has your stance.
You are in the words
I write down
Every stroke of ink
In every syllable.
You are in my salty tears
And forced smile.
You are in
The three scars
On my left wrist.
You are there
In my mind
As I close my eyes to sleep.
You are in my hope
That of you I'll dream.
Where are you?
But, my dear,
You are everywhere.
You are my existence.
You are life itself.
Anna Oct 2013
The weather was quite lovely today. It reminded me of you. And I have not a clue why it had done so.
Because you are not lovely…not on the inside anyways. You are dark and twisted, a black hole of self obsession where you had lost yourself. I almost ended the same when I tried in vain to save you.
This whole relationship was in vain. We both knew it wouldn't last. Warning myself, I decided not to become attached. But you latched on like a leech, a parasite draining every ounce that I had, drip by drip. Tainted, I was dependent on you. That gave you satisfaction. Watching me reach in desperation as you walked away. Seeing me phased and confused as to what had caused this disruption in this seemingly happy facade.
And I fought for you. Through blinded eyes and bleeding hands, I gave my all when you gave me nothing. You watched in pleasure of knowing what a valued treasure you were to me. What you are to me. Things I had done are things I will still do.
It's not because I loved you.
It's because I love you.
983 · Aug 2016
yet I could never hate you
Anna Aug 2016
I could tell you what it’s like
to hold your breath for 4 years,
since I know you have no clue.
and I could tell you how it felt
when I watched you walk out that door
how the words sliced my throat,
begging you to stay.
you saw the blood coughed up before me
how it was killing me.
but it didn’t slow your pace.

I could tell you how our room looked
after you stained it red
and how the sun never managed
to find the windows.
I memorized the steps
from the light switch to the bed
because that’s where my world existed
for weeks on end.

I cut off my friends
because I couldn’t handle
them asking about you.
what explanation do they want?
you didn’t want to stay.
I wasn’t worth it.
our friendship wasn’t worth it.
you just wanted to **** other girls.


could you tell me how mornings are?
cause I haven’t seen one in so long.
I can never seem to wipe the sleep from my eyes.
could you share the secret to not caring?
you seem to have it down to an art.
I always hold on to things too tightly
and they end up falling apart.
do you hurt at all
when you walk across
the shattered pieces
of what we had?
cause I’ve been picking
shards from my feet for years.

do you love her?
was she worth it?
does she help you forget
the person you left behind?
956 · Sep 2013
sunday afternoon
Anna Sep 2013
The ashtray is empty now.
A hollow shell cold porcelain
from where warmth  has touched.
Sitting on the porch ledge
where you leaned against on Sunday
afternoons, touching the dimples of my
face, promising a future you knew not to
be true. Words empty as the tray now filling
with gray rain water falling from gray skies
on my now gray Sunday afternoons.
Night falls and the cold creeps
accompanying me on our porch.
Asking why I am still out here
when there is no light.
But I have to wait for morning
in case you come by. And there
will be coffee in the ***, warm
for your arrival. And the ashtray
will be there. And so will I.
We have been waiting for some time.
915 · Nov 2013
personification
Anna Nov 2013
presence ever noticeable. his heavy
feet drags upon the floor room after
room after room. hot breath on my neck
as he whispers words that are no longer
new. yet still sting as he digs his finger
into the wounds, splitting apart the cuts
and pressing the bruises. his shadow is
always there. even in the night. they
told me he's not real, but they have not
met him. up to four pills a day to make
him disappear, but he is a relentless
one. i have met a match. he knows
me better than myself and has set
permanent residence in my mind to where
he
just
won't
leave.

i don't have to check under my bed
anymore, because i've seen his face
to familiarity. he escaped from the
darkness and out of the closet.

but what is there to do
when the monster is in you.
904 · Oct 2013
my existential crisis
Anna Oct 2013
i abandoned god before he abandoned me.
his scornful eyes cast down
and furrowed brow of contempt
as i walked out of the pearly gates
into the unknown darkness.
he did not lift a finger nor called out the name
of this beloved child of christ.
purged in water and marked by oil
formed the shackles on my wrists and ankles.
lifeless words from a glorified book
empty prayers from empty hearts and thick tongues.
infinite petitions laid on deaf ears.
the throne is too high for him to hear you.

i expelled the devil from my soul
tried to cut him free
but little did i know, with each saw of the blade
he possessed more of me.
setting fire through my veins
oppressing my senses
i could taste the emptiness
hear the falsities
feel pure and utter hatred
see nothing but bitterness
in this disgusting, infested world.
he whispers in my ear and forces his way into my mind
he becomes me.
when i look into a mirror
he is staring back at me.

i closed my eyes before night fell
and the darkness crept in.
before the monsters crawled out from under beds
and the nightmares took their stage.
i couldn't escape them
there was nowhere to hide.
because my monsters live inside.

i beat death to the punch.
opened the door before he knocked.
one, two, three, sixteen
blue little fairies waiting to guide me home.
he cradled me as i drifted off the final time.
my tired eyes and my tired body
finally laid to rest.
i found no comfort in his embrace
nor in his false promises.
there is no place for me to return to.
my home is not some holy kingdom
that i was promised at such an early age.
there is nothing for me there
yet, nothing will make due.
894 · Oct 2013
my accidental suicide
Anna Oct 2013
Please forgive me for my lack of meter and form of a paragraph. Let me take you to a day in my life, of what was supposed to be the conclusion, on February 9th, 2013. I was on the floor of my bedroom, the cold wood no match for my fevering body. My hollow gaze melting into the green walls, the picture collages of magazine cutouts I spent whole weekends arranging. There were no tears. No feelings beside this hungry ache of emptiness. The clenching grip of depression enclosed around my ribcage.

There were no tears because my mind was made up.

I drew the razor blade  across the fair delicate skin on my wrist, perpendicular. I just wanted to feel something. One. Two more times, crimson paint flowing down my arm, onto the wooden floors. Steady stream, throbbing pain.

It wasn't until my head was light and vision blurry that I noticed my mistake. I cut too deep. But there were no tears. No feelings. Besides acceptance that my time has come. I slowly closed my eyes involuntarily, giving into the soft waves.

Feeling the grip loosen.
875 · May 2013
killing off the optimist
Anna May 2013
The number of letters or poems I write to you
Are insignificant.
You’ll never read them.
Never know of their existence.
Yet, for some unexplained reason
I still write them.
Maybe there’s a secret Optimist
Hidden deep within me
That’s still rooting for you.
Hoping that maybe at this moment
You actually are reading this.
That maybe this whole catastrophe
Was just a misunderstanding.
Maybe.
Maybe one day
You’ll look at me the same way you used to.
And maybe you’ll hold my hand again.
The gentle way your hand cradled mine.
Just maybe.
I wrote a song for you,
That some day you might hear it on the radio
As you drive down the dirt roads
In your light blue Mustang that I loved.
Finding it catchy, drumming your fingers
Along to it on the leather steering wheel.
Your head would bob in a rhythmic beat
And maybe, just maybe,
You’ll think of me.
Of what we had.
Of what could have been.
These are the dangerous thoughts of an Optimist.
Scrawled upon a piece of loose notebook paper
In the middle of class.
I hide this Optimist deep within the many layers of myself,
As She takes these thoughts with Her.
Maybe one day, She and those silly ideas
Will be consumed in the surrounding darkness.
It would be better off for Her anyways.
This world is not kind to Optimists.
863 · Nov 2014
fuck buddies
Anna Nov 2014
"I don't want a relationship."

"Well...neither do I."
847 · Mar 2014
the stoic
Anna Mar 2014
im afraid i have lost my touch.
try to crack the stone stoic surface
skin crystalized to rock of
the most expensive yet mundane
shine stolen diamond.

i find myself here, alone,
sitting in the study room of
a school i never wanted to go to
in a town i never wanted to call home.
alone, picking at the surface,
pricking the tips of my fingers for
just a single drop.
by the ax will not crack the exterior
the uniformed exoskeleton
will not harvest any value.

whatever is in here is deeply buried,
swept away in the black currents
and silenced by the quiet smile of
'really, im fine.'

expression perfected by painted porcelain.
depression
839 · Sep 2013
irony
Anna Sep 2013
people say they are in love
when they stand awkwardly next to each other
unsure of the thought of touching the other's skin.
shift uncomfortably in silence
never daring to meet eyes
or risk blush.
yet they last.
and it's so unfair
because she doesn't know that every time
he listens to oasis he thinks of her
and he doesn't know that for that
she smiles at the sound of wonderwall.
she doesn't know that every time
he bites the inside of his cheek
he is facing the demons
that have stalked him his entire life.
and he doesn't know that
when she scratches the scars
on her left wrist
she is overwhelmingly nervous.
she doesn't notice
how he wears long sleeves everyday
just to cover up the scars
on the inside of his elbows.
and he never bothered
to kiss the angry gashes
she inflicted out of hate
of herself.
she has never taken the time
to watch how his face
crinkles around his grin
and around his blue eyes.
and he never minded
the way she ground her teeth
when she was frustrated.
she never fell in love with
how soft his hair was
and how it curled at the ends.
he never traced his fingers
across the crushed velvet
cheek as he looked into
her blue and yellow eyes.

and yet we never made it.
816 · Oct 2013
sir condescending
Anna Oct 2013
all you had to do was ask. simply say the word. swallow your pride just this once. dismount your high horse and meet me face to face. admit for once that you need me just as much as i need you. all you had to do was reach out your hand and i would be right there. i watched you drown. flood your lungs. i dove and swam in pursuit of help. but you were gone. you descended into the darkness, chained by your own arrogance.

when people are gone, they are often illuminated as those sitting amongst the saints. but not this time. i see you for what you really are.

you're too in love with your own misery to every possibly love anyone else.
810 · Nov 2013
nothing
Anna Nov 2013
waiting for inspiration to strike
itching of the minute hand
drying of ink
as the seconds throb in my ears
silence rings through  the
skeleton frame of the empty shell
that is my own.
heart once beating struck still
ice enclosing the useless thing.
paralyzed not by fear
but from the routine disappointment
that had made these blue eyes glaze.
there is no reason to move.
no reason to uproot these bones
from the ground in which they trusted.
i was cut open
blood has spilt and energy stolen
and it has your fingerprints.
our house was thieved
belongings claimed by selfishness
walls caving into the hot flames
that consume.
bold and i know it was you
pictures withered away
fades into the dark abyss
where you have chose to hide.
your face dissolves into those passing by
your voice in my mind softens each day.
every mark on the calendar loosens the noose
around my neck and lets my body fall to the floor.
feet distance from your victim.  

waiting for inspiration to strike
but have none left in the
empty jar of my mind.
nothing left.
nothing left after you.
you took everything that i had
when you walked out that door.
809 · Mar 2015
separation
Anna Mar 2015
you hold me with your sweater
on lonely winter nights
Whiskey repeats your name
but it never sounds right.

and I’m no more for divinity
for this course we’ve been through
the hell that is you
what I could do to deserve this.

now your just words
an intricate design
just continue to stare
you lose meaning in time.

the girls that took my place
the title meant something then
but there’s so many of them
I learned I was never different.

and you call me hateful and jaded
which is probably true
but it’s the only way I know
to survive knowing you.

I hope their brown hair eases your pain
and their blue eyes help you forget.
and have unbelievable ***
and forget the hearts you posses.

but don’t worry about me
not even years from now.
I can look back and say
I know how a bullet sounds.
796 · Aug 2016
hiraeth
Anna Aug 2016
the hours pass like minutes now
I collect them under the covers
as their pressing persistence
deafens with each dream.
my mother enters the room
in an effort to wake me
from the dead, to try and
mend the broken bones
you yourself left.
why does she have
to clean up your mess?
my own guilt concretes
my chest, paralyzing me further.
to hear my mother’s concern,
her worry. but I have felt
this heartbreak many times
over. your fracture lines are
all over my body, some are
just easier to hide than others.
I stay in bed and dream
of how you stayed. of how
you chose me. back to
Sunday mornings under covers,
our smiles visible by the gray-lit
sky. I can still feel you skin
running beneath my fingertips.
so I stay in my bed. and that
should be none of your concern,
it’s the only way I know
to survive knowing you.
792 · Jan 2014
to love
Anna Jan 2014
to cut. to open up veins and let the reddened river rush, releasing me. to have the sobering throb of sliced skin dull the agonizing ache from within. it was my little secret. self-harming is a taboo subject. viewed as having no control over emotions or thoughts...well, i guess they weren't wrong. in the davis household, we do no have room for feelings. we were trained not to bring unpleasantries to the table because heaven forbid someone became uncomfortable. heaven forbid if someone caught a glimpse of the tiresome face behind the painted porcelain.
in middle school, the sickness started. the tumor grew inside my chest, making the task unbearably difficult to just simply live. impossible to drag myself out of bed because i couldn't find one ******* reason to pick myself up and face the day. it metastasized to consume my body. everywhere the darkness touched. blinded my eyes and deafened my ears to where i was left alone with it.
i became bitter due to the obvious state i was in. scars and fresh gashes striped my wrists and legs, razorblades and knifes left on the nightstand. few would ask and fewer i would tell, offering half-assed coverups. but they bought the weak stories because if they didn't, they would become involved. heaven forbid. and my parents didn't notice a single thing as i was destroying myself before their eyes. all i needed was for someone to reach out. someone to care enough to tell me to stop. to grab the blade from my hand, look into my swollen eyes, and tell me that i deserved better. that i was worth more. to say that they loved me. they took me to therapy because i needed to talk when i have been screaming this whole time, they just never listened.
so uncomfortable in my sobriety, i searched for any escape. anything to distract me from myself. and i sought for love, because i thought that was what was going to save me. but all paths, rocky and disastrous, led to dead ends and i found myself more alone than ever. i needed love. but i looked for it in all the wrong places. i would not find love in the stranger laying next to me. i would not find love in the meaningless touch of another. i couldn't. i had to find it in myself.because the love of yourself offers the sturdy foundation on which others can build. without that, the wall that they had constructed would be in vain, collapsing with the slightest gust of wind.
we were taught that to be alone is a failure when in fact, the real failure is being unable to be alone.
778 · Oct 2013
vain
Anna Oct 2013
where did you go?
you left me here
alone and in the dark
blindfolded by despair
and poisoned by contempt.
running, running
i cannot catch up
no matter how hard i try.
i reach and i reach
to grasp your hand
but you are worlds away.
come back to me
please?
that's all i want.
all that i ask for.
i threw away my pride
and trashed my dignity
in pursuit.
but that means nothing
and nothing means anything to you.
you are blind
cannot see
the blood you have spilt.
you are deaf
cannot hear
my constant cry.
you cannot feel
have no emotion
as i crumble.
you are not human
and you do not love.
you do not care.
simply that.

i destroyed myself
for nothing.
766 · Mar 2014
Aziza hypnophobia
Anna Mar 2014
I am not afraid of the night; I am afraid of its obligations. That tight fist of knowing that I could not have been born this way. For every fear there is said to be a triggering effect, someone holding the gun saying, ‘this may be my fault, but it’s still your story.’ A fear of sleep is a fear of losing control. In my hometown, there was a boy up my street that knew every part of you is a mouth. Look at you, how open you are. How your body can only say ‘yes’ to me. Look how your fight forgot you. I can never land a punch in my dreams, never can rip my attacker apart, nail by nail and see how helpless that house was. I’m not a fair fight, I don’t know a lot of words,  I don’t know how to say I slept with every man after you and woke up on fire. I don’t want to say everyone in my dreams is born out of you. I don’t know how to say you cannot have me. Not now. Not again. Don’t sleep by yourself. There must be some part of you that doesn’t trust the rest of you. Try to find someone who don’t want to gouge out her eyes just to make sense of the dark. This was never about finding a savior to share the bed with.

I am not lonely. I am not the weak calling my sickness the tyranny. What I feel is what I can’t hold, what I would win the world for.
Anna Sep 2015
1.You are the mistress. ****** had been there long before you and courses through his veins. She has his heart.

2. Kiss his scars and show his yours. He spends so much time intoxicating his faults that it is easy for him to think he is the only one that is flawed.

3.Don’t be offended when he offers to help you shoot up. He wants to share a part of himself with you. It will always be a part of him.

4.When borrowing his coat, check the pockets for spare needles.

5.****** will always be the most intimate experience for him. *** will become basically non existent.

6.You will need to buy him new belts often.

7.Get the number of his dealer. They usually have an adrenaline shot handy for when he overdoses. Also, he will usually know the location of your boyfriend that has been missing for three days.

8.When calling 911, speak clearly. It is hard to tell the dispatcher that he is not breathing when you’re having trouble doing that yourself.

9.They won’t let you ride in the ambulance with him.

10.Time freezes in the hospital waiting room.

11.Don’t take it personally when he yells at you for not letting him die.

12.Try not to cry when he tells the nurses to escort you out.

13.His parents know you tried your best. They did too.

14.He will beg for you to come back. And you have every right to walk away. You did not fail him, you are just deciding not to let him destroy you.

15.You will still love him. You will wake to the thought of him and fall asleep whispering his name. Every time your phone goes off, you will hope that it’s him even though you blocked his number months ago. You will still feel his hold on you. And every time you’re alone, crying in your room you will remember that you chose not to be with him.
But that’s okay. You chose yourself.
736 · Dec 2013
closure, finally
Anna Dec 2013
This is my final goodbye to you. And I'm so sorry. I know I said that you would always have me. I know I promised that I would be waiting right here for you to come back to me. But outside, as the seasons passes countlessly, the air chilled me to the bone and the wind howled into my ears, shaking and beating my body into havoc. I'm not retreating; I'm moving forward.
Maybe I waited so long because I'm used to the abuse. It's all I have ever loved. And up till now, I believed it was all I deserved. I grew up never knowing love and so I ended up searching for it in all the wrong places. I'm afraid you're another misguided destination. But I don't really mean that. I guess. We were somewhat good for each other. If we hadn't met, neither of us would be in existence today. I still remember how you convinced me there is a reason to live on my 17th birthday. I was the one, despite your anger and will, that saved you from the damage you inflicted on yourself.
It's rather upsetting how clearly I can remember all of the good memories. How you were so truly in love with me before you even knew it. You treated me like the most beautiful and fascinating girl and for once in my life, I believed it. I really believed it. I miss it all. The nights that we stayed up, endlessly asking each other questions because we wanted to know every little detail. At 4 a.m. you apologized for keeping me up on a school night and I told you that I would much rather talk to you than sleep. And by your reaction, I knew you were not used to that and so tried from there on to make you feel as special as you truly are. Our first date, exploring downtown, you never let go of my hand. I had boyfriends before but...they never held my hand in public. And I thought that was the loveliest thing. And when you kissed me for the first time, or rather every time, every atom of my body electrified. The early mornings, under covers, you touched my skin so gently....But ever before we knew each other, when we just gazed at each other across campfires and crowded rooms, I knew I wasn't through with you. However, I'm afraid that time has arrived. I knew this time would eventually come, but nothing could have prepared me.
The happy moments may exist in distant memories, but this overwhelming pain, hatred, sadness, and desperation is constant proof of the reckless and apathetic wreckage you have inflicted. How you chose every single thing over me. Over us. Our relationship was such a joke. You will never love anything more than those **** chemicals in that ******* needle. I could never be close to you because that blonde *** covered ***** was between us from the start. And in the end, you acted as if this relationship was too much effort for you.
When you said goodbye, I knew it wasn't for the last time. We always find our way back to each other. But I have to close the door. I can't allow you to enter  my life again. Although I love you to the ends of the earth, I have to start loving myself. No matter how difficult that may be. I'm sorry.

*Te amo, mi novio.
728 · Dec 2014
winter
Anna Dec 2014
The bed is cold, my love
Space drifting farther along with time
Your breath only bites my skin
Of where your lips have been.

But your touch burns red in streaks
Kiss pollutes me with this disease
Of codependence on absence.

Your voice is different now, a change in pace
As I run out in hopes to save the last remnant of me.
The masks are on, words are drawn
Into our backs.

Too close to what I love the most
He told me to stand on my own two feet
When he broke every bone.
Cornered and scared, I could only dare
To find my way out.
To find myself again.

It’s so cold out there,
You closed the doors.
Taste of what I’ll never have
To leave me wanting more.
All I needed was warmth:
A smile, a touch.
But you said
I loved you too much.
713 · Jan 2014
idol
Anna Jan 2014
so maybe this whole thing was my fault, from the start
For falling for someone that cannot love
for giving all to who had none.
I gave you my heart.

and I close my eyes
to escape the world
where you're no longer mine
to hold you in my arms, to feel your warmth
'til the morning light.

And all along you knew that I
would follow you into the night
All along you knew that I
looked at you as if you
put the stars in the sky.

You said it was best for this to come to an end
before we are both hurt
How could you ask me to
walk away from you
when you are my life.

All along you knew that I
would follow you into the night
All along you knew that I
looked at you as if you
put the stars in the sky.

And all along you knew that I
would follow you into the night
All along you knew that I
looked at you as if you
put the stars in the sky.
704 · Feb 2014
Marvin's Room
Anna Feb 2014
I've been up three days
adderall and red bull
this call is a mistake
there's something strong in this water bottle.
I hear you've got a new chick
a dancing little barbie doll
i feel so pathetic
but you still haven't heard it all.

**** that new girl
that you like so bad
she's not crazy like me
I bet you like that.
I said **** that new girl
that's been in your bed
and when you're in her
I know I'm in your head.

I'm just saying you could do better
I always turned you out every time we were together.
once you had the best, boy, you can't do better
baby, I'm the best so you can't do better.

I ran into your homeboys
they're all ******* idiots
you're not even my boyfriend
but they're trippin cause I'm in the club
yeah, that's right, I'm dancing
and something cool is in my cup
Imma send a **** picture
to remind you what you've given up.

**** that new girl
that you like so bad
she's not crazy like me
I bet you like that.
I said **** that new girl
that's been in your bed
and when you're in her
I know I'm in your head.

I'm just saying you could do better
I always turned you out every time we were together.
once you had the best, boy, you can't do better
baby, I'm the best so you can't do better.
696 · Jan 2014
my first visit
Anna Jan 2014
"when was the last time you were truly happy?" she asked, finally looking up from her notebook. making eye contact, i discovered i much preferred her nose buried in whatever she's writing.
i looked away to break the tension, but that only did so much. her beady eyes bored into my soul, trying to pick apart the girl that sat before her.
it would be an exaggeration to say that i never felt true happiness. i'm sure when i was young, naïve, and unscathed by the world, that i was a happy child. however, to be perfectly honest, i could not remember a specific instance.
in middle school the sickness started and grew inside my chest. concreting my heart in its paralyzing notions. it metastasized to consume my body, everywhere the darkness touched. blinded my eyes and deafened my ears to where i was left alone with it. and it owned my life.
granted, there were days where the sun had managed to peak through the thick blanket of clouds. and there were times where i would smile, i would laugh, i would forget about life for a while. but its presence was constant, following me wherever i went. when i would get lost in daydreams, it was always there to tug me back to reality.
when was the last time i was truly happy?
"i honestly don't know."
688 · Jan 2014
from Prozac Nation
Anna Jan 2014
"Some catastrophic moments invite clarity, explode in split moments: You smash your hand through a windowpane and then there is blood and shattered glass stained with red all over the place; you fall out a window and break some bones and scrape some skin. Stitches and casts and bandages and antiseptic solve and salve the wounds. But depression is not a sudden disaster. It is more like a cancer: At first its tumorous mass is not even noticeable to the careful eye, and then one day -- wham! -- there is a huge, deadly seven-pound lump lodged in your brain or your stomach or your shoulder blade, and this thing that your own body has produced is actually trying to **** you. Depression is a lot like that: Slowly, over the years, the data will accumulate in your heart and mind, a computer program for total negativity will build into your system, making life feel more and more unbearable. But you won't even notice it coming on, thinking that it is somehow normal, something about getting older, about turning eight or turning twelve or turning fifteen, and then one day you realize that your entire life is just awful, not worth living, a horror and a black blot on the white terrain of human existence. One morning you wake up afraid you are going to live.

In my case, I was not frightened in the least bit at the thought that I might live because I was certain, quite certain, that I was already dead. The actual dying part, the withering away of my physical body, was a mere formality. My spirit, my emotional being, whatever you want to call all that inner turmoil that has nothing to do with physical existence, were long gone, dead and gone, and only a mass of the most ******* god-awful excruciating pain like a pair of boiling hot tongs clamped tight around my spine and pressing on all my nerves was left in its wake.

That's the thing I want to make clear about depression: It's got nothing at all to do with life. In the course of life, there is sadness and pain and sorrow, all of which, in their right time and season, are normal -- unpleasant, but normal. Depression is an altogether different zone because it involves a complete absence: absence of affect, absence of feeling, absence of response, absence of interest. The pain you feel in the course of a major clinical depression is an attempt on nature's part (nature, after all, abhors a vacuum) to fill up the empty space. But for all intents and purposes, the deeply depressed are just the walking, waking dead.

And the scariest part is that if you ask anyone in the throes of depression how he got there, to pin down the turning point, he'll never know. There is a classic moment in The Sun Also Rises when someone asks Mike Campbell how he went bankrupt, and all he can say in response is, 'Gradually and then suddenly.' When someone asks how I lost my mind, that is all I can say too."
684 · Sep 2016
gifts
Anna Sep 2016
whispers wrapped with good intentions
are delivered so easily. the silver specs
of the paper to distract what’s underneath.

I will take your words cause they’re all
you will ever give. but I have to move on
from your grasp to learn how to live.
Anna Dec 2014
The bullet cracks your teeth, your tongue burns against
the hot metal, cooled down by detached touches and
mute denial. I have never felt such pain as when you painted
my cheeks with your fingertips. The blood still stains your hands.

I hear autumn calling me and I wish to go her way, however
though miles away your hands still hold my waist, asking me
to stay. My mother always said the devil was near.
I never expected him to have such blue eyes.

No amount of bourbon could erase the scars your
lips left behind. No matter how many words pile
on top of each other, your voice remains clear.
And even when I sunk into my old habit, he wasn’t you.

September has always been kind to me.
But this year seems so cold. The miles stretch
me thin. I feel myself drowning, they are saying I can only save myself.
But I still find myself here, drinking the sea.
677 · Dec 2013
secret
Anna Dec 2013
i must confess something that neither my parents nor my psychiatrist knows. one of the most important moments of my life that i have been too afraid to even speak aloud about. the darkest yet most positive instance, the turning point on my road to self ruin.
i was fed up with life, but that was nothing new. i had given up on people long ago, decided to go detached from anything and everything because losing them was inevitable. and overwhelmingly painful.
i swallowed a total of eighteen pills. there was no trigger to this suicide attempt, i was just following through on a decision i had made long ago. at first i was upset because it wasn't working. i was still conscious.  i was still alive.
then they hit like a ton of bricks. waves shook my body so hard that i collapsed onto my bedroom floor. the weight of the pills was pulling my body to the ground. anchored down, unable to even lift a finger. the world was spinning and pulsing, my body covered in a cold sweat.
it was the most beautiful moment of my life. why?

because for once in my life, i was scared of death. for once in my life, i wanted to hold onto my life. in those numbing hours, i could feel my life slipping out of my fingertips and i wanted so desperately to hold on. i couldn't even call out for help.

that was the moment i decided that i wanted to live.
676 · Sep 2016
spoken for
Anna Sep 2016
I could feel your bones as they ache
and fell in love with the sound
that they make, stretched over mine.

their moans and their whispers told
all I’ve ever wanted to know
without a word escaping your mouth.

could you love me, bare and true
without the reflection of you
etched across my forehead?

could you take these broken bones and
fix the mess that was never your own?
Because I would love to be yours.
657 · Nov 2013
Untitled
Anna Nov 2013
it was me, peering through the shattered mirror, leaking fresh crimson flowing down in steady stream.
it was my lap in which he laid, the glazed blues gazing lifelessly into mine. touched his dark brown hair, now long enough to slightly curl at the ends. soft as usual, rich in depth.
it was in my hands that held the means, the balance to the situation. my revenge. and so i claimed it. over and over, sinking it into his chest to truly find out if he ever had a heart for i could never tell. over and over as the blood hallowed his body like a **** god. over and over, wanting to hear the screams, the sound of agony that i have only internally known. but there was nothing.he gave nothing.
and so i laid with his lifeless body, but he was dead long ago.
655 · Aug 2016
spindrift
Anna Aug 2016
navy blue tides
tracing the outline of my body.
sinking further with each wave,
the world grows softer
the more detached I am.
its edges easier to grasp
but fingertips away.

you, a violent wind,
uprooted me from all that I knew
and left me in this new, this foreign
state to bend me at your will.

when the tides take their toll
after so long, my back
is forever bent. Forever formed
into a function only you
can benefit from.

you are the storm
that wrecked my sense
of normality. you leave me
in pieces, scattered across
the sand, never quite fitting
together ever again.
you left me here.
you’ve never been known
for cleaning up your messes.
Anna Mar 2014
Elementary days colored in sunshine, filled in its rosy shades. We were just two kids, you and I, running around the playground. Playing tag and soccer and more so often, sitting underneath our favorite tree in the graveyard, picking the wildflowers that grew around the cracked exterior of the headstones. We were just kids, inductees into this crazy role of life. It had just begun for us. Two young kids laying underneath the shade of elders, cozy in the resting place of those much older than we.

Another turning point, a fork stuck in the road.
Time grabs you by the wrist, directs you where to go.

In middle school you fell for me. And to this day, I am not sure whether that was good or bad. But we filled our days in classrooms of Catholic Schools, passing notes and mix CDs, filled with Green Day songs. Sneaking into PG-13 movies and playing guitar at your house. You were honestly one of the closest friends I’ve ever had because everything felt so natural with you. I remember my father driving me home from swim practice, American Idiot blaring from the radio. I still have that CD to this day.

So make the best of this test, and don’t ask why
It’s not a question, but a lesson learned in time.

In eighth grade, you began missing school quite often and I found myself lost amongst the crowd. I had no one to sit with during lunch. No one to entertain me during Math and Reading. You said you had the stomach flu. How I wish that was so. A month later I received a phone call from your mother, informing me that you had been diagnosed with a brain tumor. My end of the phone was quiet, and she waited for a reaction, but all I could do was fall to the floor. Shocked. My dad caught me and answered the phone. She told him everything. I silently got up and walked to my room without a word. And so I laid in my bed that entire weekend, no emotion, just this terrible numbness freezing my veins and paralyzing my mind. Now that I think about it, that numbness never did leave.

So take the photographs and still frames in your mind
Hang it on a shelf in good health and good time

I didn’t see you for an entire year. You practically lived in Kansas City. You practically lived in that hospital. And the thought of you, confined in those four gray walls, assembled with wires and tubes, killed me. Because that wasn’t how you wanted to live. Every night I prayed for you and every night I cried. I begged for it to be me, because you did not deserve it. And when you came back to school, you came back with a victory and I was so happy to see you. But something had changed. You were not yourself and you didn’t want anything to do with me. Your parents told me it was natural for behavioral changes in your condition, going through as many surgeries as you had. I just wanted my friend back.

Three years later that ******* returned, trying to claim your life once again. And this time, it won. It succeed and I had to do something that horrified me for the past 4 years. I perfected my stoic facade. And I sat in the back row at your funeral. But then Mrs. Durbin, our Social Studies teacher, sat next to me. Embraced me, weeping, saying how sorry she was that I lost my childhood friend. And then your father came up to me and hugged me. He asked me how I was and I said “okay” because it would hurt too much to say the truth. But then he held me at arms length and looked into my eyes and knew. I crumbled, breaking the emotionless mask I had been hiding behind, and he held me as I sobbed.

Tattoos and memories and dead skin on trial
through what it’s worth, it was worth all the while

That night, I had laid to rest one of my own. My childhood friend. My brother. And as you would like to know, they played your favorite songs, ranging from the Ramones to Green Day and I couldn’t help but to smile. I’m not a religious person, but because of you, I hope there is an afterlife. So hopefully I will be able to see you again.

It’s something unpredictable, but in the end that’s right.
I hope you had the time of your life.
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