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With the songs stuck in your head,
Darling, the clock ticks down to midnight
Now, birthday boy,
Day’s over and we’re still here,
Still typing, tapping away
Like we’re running out of time
Lady, get that song out of your head-
Song out of my head-
Song out of our head
Let’s reach a compromise here
You’re not alone and never were
I don’t know how I let you think that
See, some people, they see this
As an invasion of the mind
Remember the story you told yourself,
As we finally fell asleep…
The story of the lies we kept together
Long after you were dead,
But not really dead? I don’t know, I never could tell
The crowds, the man dressed in a smirk,
Saying oh, what a shame,
to lose your sister like that
And for her tiny voice to answer,
that’s not the way I see it

Remember the defence in her throat,
The anger she gave out
To he who threatened you, and for what?
Arguing his case of a friend long dead,
That’s not how it happened,
But she’s never coming back, she doesn’t even want to
Trust us, she’d prefer it be me
Standing in her place here,
As if it ever mattered who she’d be…
But you see, the story you tell
Is a hundred years old or more,
They’d never perceive you as human again,
For all you know, still don’t.

So you sit here today,
Scared to let anyone know,
Dreaming of a time where we don’t have to be.
Broken pivot
Endless fidget
Back and forth,
Back and forth
Back and-
Back and-
Back and-
twitch
Slam down
In and out
Purple thread
Through black ribbon
In and out,
Back and forth,
Thread snap
Little knife
To Cut the ties
And into skin,
Back and forth,
Thick blue lines
Hiding behind
Skin barely transparent
Needle goes in,
Out
Press the button
Up,
Down,
Hinges swinging
No control
Concentrate
Skin is fabric,
Black nylon
On peach vellum
In and out
As string appears
In dotted lines
Pinch to keep together
openings,
Eyes, lips, ears
A wound in a dress
Keep it together
A hole in the flesh,
Into a scar with time
The aches of a button-up
Dotted scarf
Black ribbon
Stitched together
Around the wrist
 Apr 2018 Cheyanne Hopkins
Cné

Hanging like a scimitar
suspended in the sky,
the moon beside a gleaming star
is pleasing to the eye.
How desolate, this satellite
in airless ebon space
and yet, from here
‘tis beautiful
filagree & lace.

Panic, panic
hold it together
When your bones don't hold together
And you break
See yourself
Watch yourself
fly across the room
no, stop
No, stop!
Hold yourself honey
Breathe,
Breathe,
B r e a t h e
You're fine, you're fine
Hold yourself together with
String,
Hold yourself with muscles you
Wish were stronger
You wish you were stronger
Your hands shake and
clap
Anything to keep them under control
You're drawing,
You're taking notes and then
your pen, it's buried in
Someone else's lap
How'd it get there?
Hold yourself
Hold yourself
How many people struggle
In an arm wrestle with themself?
Now sit down
Sit down and breathe
Coz you've noticed it happens
When you panic
So
Breathe
You're fine,
You're fine
You can handle this
Right?
Sit down
Listen to the music
Focus, focus
You need to pay attention
You look at the guy sitting next to you
And feel your arm move
It isn't you moving it
So you hold yourself
Hands in your pockets
You're crazy enough without this
So keep yourself down honey
You're fine
You aren't flying across the room
Not yet
Your bones hold you together
Like string
Like thread
You're fine
Anything, to keep you under
Your own control
Lady
Breathe
You're fine

You're fine

I'm fine...

...right?
Me, I'd love to go
Take me anywhere
Take me anywhere but here
Coz I flicker between these
Two locations
Can you let me exist somewhere else
Give me the excuse I need
To get away
Screams,
Turn them into music
Silence
Into white noise
Anything's better
Coz solitude's only so great
In the same place every time
So give me places
Places I can know
And love
Give me scenes I can memorise
And let become part of me
Coz I've got these two locations
I flicker between them
These two states of mind
I flicker between them
I'm asleep
Or I'm running
Give me another place
In my mind and
In the world
Sister, take me
Ride our pink and blue bikes
Any manner of places
Coz you know the city back-to-front
And me,
I flicker
But when you take me
I've got something new
And I've got another state of mind
Coz stress can become excitement
Coz running can become dancing
Coz sleeping can become laughing
If you know how
If you know where
And if you stop yourself
From flickering
Between two worlds
That just
Feel
The same.
 Apr 2018 Cheyanne Hopkins
Bee
hell is a place where
you constantly love those that
do not love you back.
i used to love you sober.



               i've been high for days.
 Apr 2018 Cheyanne Hopkins
ali
to be a writer..

it’s an awfully emotional adventure.

it doesn’t mean
you’ve always got a pen in hand.
it also doesn’t mean
you’ve got too many voices in your head.

to be a writer
means to fall in love young,
and to never fall out of love.
because like a true love,
the words will never leave you
or never let you down.

to be a writer
means that you want it;
you crave the aligned phrases,
the scratch of lead on paper,
the depth of the ink soaking in.
the beauty that the words leave behind.

to be a writer
means that you need it,
that without it,
you’re not sure how you’d speak
without a voice.
it means that early in the morning,
when your cheeks are stained with tears
and your heart is trembling
within its cage
the flow of words
coming from inside
is the only thing that can save you.

to be a writer..

is an awfully wonderful adventure.
here at hello poetry, we’ve all had something in our lives, whether it be known or not, that made us a writer. i’m honored and thankful to be here, on this wonderful adventure, with you all:)
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