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archives Mar 2016
nights rang with slamming doors
days half empty
like her creaking king sized bed
mirror reflected regret
poured down the sink
along with her budded cigarettes
the memories
she tried to forget
building bridges
that were burned for twenty years
with her matches
that he gave her
slept-in cars
driven over
the crossing line
of arguments that reoccurred

mornings rang with silence
air filled with tension
thick enough to start a forest fire
if the lighter fluid's out
put the cigarette to your mouth
it'll burn more than
your love ever did
archives Feb 2016
the birds will eat
have a place to sleep
water to wash
their feet
yet, i've stood up
one too many nights
contemplating what makes them
any better than
me
i've flown to the highest branch
over every green pasture
counting every flower
that i keep

the grass is withering
and so am i
archives Jan 2016
loseen the grip
that's in your finger tips
wrapped around your neck

for it can not take back
the words
you never said
in your head

loosen the tape
that binds
around your irregular waist

for it won't mold your shape
deep enough
to change the state
of your breaking heart

loosen the chains
that have been broken
from your ankles
instead of holding them
in place
with your unforgiving hands

loosen me

until i am free enough
to fall at your feet
archives Dec 2015
maybe if you didn't
walk with your head hung so low
fixed on the feet of people you know
leaving as if you had somewhere to go
wrapping your arms
around your chest
constantly worrying
if your skin shows
they would-

look at you the way
they look at them
if you would try
include you in
their exclusive lives
if you would try

maybe i
walk with my head so low
because i'm carrying their burdens
on my back
gazing at the ground
because my eyes are tired
of looking for faults
in myself
running
from the silence
in between sentences
that i tried to fill
with my appearance
i will-

leave my nest bed head
the way i had it
when i woke
be heard
without shouting words
that i spoke
love my body
the way it was made
all curves and marks
that wrap around my waist
unapologetically carry the bags
under the eyes
on my face
i will-

continue to speak love
from my unfilled chapped lips
i'm not trying

i'm living.
archives Nov 2015
how can a hollow heart
feel so
heavy
rusted bones
in dusty spaces
between ribcages
that's where you
used to be
i don't know
who lives there anymore
the walls are empty
from the borrower
who didn't try
to knock them
down
but
stole all the frames
that hung
in my scars
instead
the pit of my stomach
was engraved
with your name
like a welcome home sign
so won't you
unpack those bags
under your tired eyes
and
stay
archives Nov 2015
i think
i've forgotten how to swim
but i'd rather drown
than reach for your hand
don't let me
pull
you
d
o
w
n
i've dug a hole
too deep
to climb out
save your ropes

it's a nice view from down here
archives Nov 2015
eve-ry syllable
that comes out of your pretty mouth
makes me uneasy
daggers covered in roses
but the thorns won't heal my wounds
how can the same person  
say something
that can make you feel  like
for once
you're going to be more
than "okay"
but can tear you apart like
the page in your journal
you tried to forget
your lungs are meant to give you life
but they're surely taking away mine
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