Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
 
  Jan 2015 Ellie Shelley
Astrid Ember
Get high with
your boyfriend.
Realize he's an ***
as he ignores you for
3 hours playing on
his phone.
Realize you don't love him
as you sit in a McDonalds parking lot
for those 3 hours
writing someone else's
name on the foggy window.
Realize you like writing
in pen because it's more
permanent than you'll ever be.
Realize you can't tell your
mom your dream occupation
because she sees writer and
failure in the same hand.
Just because my hero is Allen
Ginsberg does that mean I'll
grow up to be like him.
Tons of people love Superman
but none of them can fly.
And I love you a **** ton
but that doesn't mean I can
have you.
He says he loves me
But he never hears
the hollow echo as he
knocks on me at night
His ears are not tuned
to the belly flop
of my "I love you too"s
"too" because I'd be too much
of a liar if I said it
first.

He wonders why I whisper
to him in Cherokee.
It's so I can pronounce
the last syllable wrong
and the foundation of
the word crumbles and
it now means nothing.
So I can whisper sweet
nothings in his ear and
it still sounds sincere
because he never
hears me choking around
the syllables.
Because he is still deaf to
the dead pang of the words
as they fall and shatter
around us.
My words are counterfeit
and he somehow still doesn't
see the light catch on the
false foggy lies falling out
of my mouth like stones.

My tears spelling out "liar"
in my running mascara
and he is still
blind.

He keeps saying that I've
been "quiet"
It's because I know
if I opened my mouth
my entire being would
spill out and he'd see
all of the disguises.
I am made up of
empty truths and
stuffed to the brim
lies.
And if he could /really/
look into my eyes
I'm sure he'd soon
be able to hear
the heavy echo
of my mind screaming
someone else's name
as my body screams
his.
But for now,
my little moans
cover the emptiness
and clearing my
throat will have to do
for covering the false
"love you"s
And the poorly lit room
will just have to work.
Because if he saw my eyes
screaming "I'm sorry"
He'd go running too.
  Jan 2015 Ellie Shelley
Astrid Ember
Don't **** me hard
enough that I forget
my first name,
or even my last name,
or my mother's name.
**** me hard enough
that I forget his.
  Jan 2015 Ellie Shelley
Astrid Ember
Don’t tell me that I don’t
care
because you weren’t
there.
You weren’t there for my
sleepless nights.
You weren’t there when
my showers turned pink.
You weren’t there when
I sobbed in the kitchen
writing really ******* sad
poetry.
You weren’t there when
I couldn’t breathe because
your name was stuck in
my throat and shattered in
my teeth.
No…
You weren’t there for the
empty embraces I felt
sick for committing.
The empty words
I had to spit out of my mouth
along with ****** teeth.
No…
You weren’t there
for when I cried
myself to sleep
when “I’m sorry”
was all I could mutter.
And your name went
along with it perfectly.
I’m sorry.
You weren’t there
when all my fingers
could do was scroll through
my newsfeed looking for you.
You weren’t there when
all my hands could do
was hold my head as I
was sobbing
when all my hands could
do was curl up into fists
and hit the wall
when all my vocal chords
could do was scream
"I’m sorry!"
You weren't there.

You don’t have enough
evidence to convict
me of not caring.
Next page