With every deep wound
comes the gushing blood
; and with every drop of blood,
comes the ink for your poetry

these painkillers
do nothing
about the chills
running down my spine
every few minutes

these painkillers
don't help
the pain my gut feels
as my heart jumps up
and down

these painkillers
never eased
this hollow pain
in the back
of my brain

these painkillers
don't help
and maybe

just maybe,

I don't want them to

he said
the words
couldn't have
faded more
gracefully

like tea,
infused his brain
with memories
of sweet nothings

Your eyes.
Ooh those eyes!
The gates to my soul
They melt my tough disguise
They reveal my lies
For I cannot lie to those eyes.
Those eyes.
They hypnotise
leave me paralysed
and small in size
Those eyes.
Oh when I look into those eyes
I am instantly stripped from my disguise
And my ego dies.
Ooh those eyes.
They **** me.

The biggest excuse we tell ourselves is
"I don't have time"
We have 24 hours in a day.
We have nothing but time.
It's the skills to manage it that we lack.

In the midst of anger,
In the epitome of sadness,
In the clench of regret,

You called me

And I wasn't there to answer

I don't want to say sorry
for not hearing my phone ring,
because that wasn't my fault.

But I do want to say thank you
for calling me first,
entrusting me
with your love

Click click
Light that cigarette
Take your mind off the woman
Who took your heart away

The first time you saw her
She felt like sunshine on a rainy day
But everytime you were close enough to touch her
She would fade between the clouds

And everytime you were close enough to hear her
She would forget what she was saying

Blame not the ones
Who haven't learned how to love
All their lives
They have lived in a shell

Try to remove her
Without breaking her shell

Our brains might mistake some actions for rudeness
when really the other person's brain is completely unaware of the capability of being misjudged.

If you want it,

                                                                                              you can have it.

                                                           But know

                    
                                       that                    I'm                      not                

                                                                  *it

He is so mean to her for no reason.
She always wonders why...
Until one day,

she found him crying and asked what's wrong
boy: "nothing that you can help me with! leave me the hell alone!"
girl: "why do you hate me?"

boy: "I hate you because I can't have you"
girl: "why can't you have me?"
boy: "because I love you too much to accept you being with someone like me."

You told me you loved beautiful things
And it hit me hard in the back of my brain

Pieces of advice
Consist of memories shadowed by perception

I could be wrong at any time I think I'm right
But the blood in my veins swears that my brain is telling the truth

And the aches cannot be described
I try to call them by your name because I also don't know what to say

There are the passing fleeting thoughts that you never remember
And then there are the ones that you are holding on to because you think they
Define you
They do not define you

So all the pictures you're afraid to burn?
Maybe you should just throw them away
Burning is too dramatic anyway
Just throw them in the trash
So calmly
Passively

You don't need someone to tell to you what you should do
But most days,
You need someone to remind you of what you want to do

I keep going back
and I find myself incapable
of motion- of change
without it

and yet
I don't want
to move

Turn off the lights,
don't wait for me

Don't wait for me
I'm a weight

Putting you down

Staring at the ceiling
wondering how fast
it got so wrong

Felt like speeding
on an empty highway
only to crash
into nothingness

And I wonder
how fast
It got so wrong

Out of
The blue
Thin air

Were there any signals?
Besides my beating heart?
Any signs?
Other than my shaking limbs?
Any symptoms,
Apart from my heavy breathing?

Remember the time,
you stood beside me
watching the milky orange sunset?

"Waves are warnings," you said

And what, may I ask, were our waves?

The lonely afternoons?
Or the empty glances?
Were they the motionless emotions?
Or the spitting of unsaid words?

"Waves are warnings,"
But viewers see them as natural blessings

And who's to say warnings are not?

Charles Dickens wrote in Great Expectations,
of a Miss Havisham, who stopped her clocks
at the exact time she was left at the altar.

We were once waiting for the elevator;
once it reached the ground floor,
it indicated that it is at the 3rd floor
Wittily, you said, "maybe he lost his love at the 3rd floor"

I don't think you understand how poetic you are.

We are a nation made entirely of greed.
Oh, and a bit of love.
But mostly greed.
On money we feed.
To many, a subliminal creed.
But at least we love...
the things we need.
And we need money.
Which brings us back to greed.

Only people with potential
find potential in others.
For it takes a lot of potential
to admit in other people's competence.

This life is finite
like a passing by train
comes and leaves.
This life is a moment in the spotlight
it will last forever, she once believed
but this life is a kid's kite
if you get lucky, you get to fly it right.
This life is a girl in a lost boy's sight
unpredictable, scary, or maybe a guiding light.
Because this life is whatever we perceive.

Don't ask me which pen is best
for writing

Don't ask me which font is best
for typing

Don't ask me which fabric is best
for running

Don't ask me which thread is best
for flossing

Don't ask me which shoes are best
for walking

I'm not saying it doesn't matter
I'm saying: START
I'm saying: CONTINUE

I'm saying: DON'T OVERTHINK THIS
I'm saying: **Consistency is key

Isn't it funny

How we interpret things
based on our perception
and feelings

and reading things
at different times

Is reading different things?


-

So how many words can you really read?

(Reading this + feeling that = infinite words)

-

If words are the same said,
as read

does that mean

"I love you"
is less
when
I am
talking
to you
you,
you,
you,
you.
Because you
never
loved
me
too?

Now did you?

-

I shall read this poem
again and again
and wonder
who
I wrote it
to.

You.

So many times
I've slept
with the words
still inside me

I thought I was
letting go

Now
I wake up
with reflux,
burning like shame

I was too unwilling
to ask for forgiveness
so I slept
with my mistakes

Feels
like a volcano
on the verge
of eruption

Sadness
fills the gaps
of your teeth
as you smile

Mixtures
of epiphanies

And the scariest of all
is extreme loneliness,

The fact that you will
live through everyone
leaving you

Emptiness
feels a lot
like acceptance

Expectations
May be the root
of all heartache

And heartache, to me
Always felt like heartburn
My body screaming words
I never said

You run your fingers
down the sulci of my brain
and read my all
like I'm written in braille

Its funny how poetry
likes to be written in black
when often
it needs to be in yellow

sometimes
it isn't about loss
haunting regrets
or hollow sadness

sometimes
its about the way the sun hits the window
and wakes you up after a good night's sleep
sometimes
its about the smiles your muscles show
before you can control them
sometimes
its about a hopeful moment
in a near future
or newly changed bed sheets
or a chuckle with a baby
or the smell of freshly baked cookies

sometimes
its about the gratefulness
in words you can't begin to speak
sometimes its about a hit
thats such a near-miss
sometimes its about a hug
or a look
or a feeling

sometimes its about
a beating heart
a functioning liver
and a ...

sometimes its about a speechless tongue
that cannot speak these blessings
for it will take too long

I wraped myself around you
and prayed the skin between us
would melt,
so our hearts could finally be together

your smell haunts me
in taxis and airports,
my heart is not made
for moments like this

my ears bleed
on the Wednesdays
they play our song
on the radio
but I can't
make myself
turn it off

ever since you left
I've been taking half breaths

I want to be able to tell you
I didn't breathe a full breath
without you

Do not let
them
overshadow your beauty
with
misconceptions.

Everyone is beautiful,
believe me-
I know.

Why did I say
"you are forgiven"
and not
"I forgive you"

Because
you are not forgiven by only me
but by my eyes, and my heart too
by my neurons and synapses,
and by my cheeks and fingers.

Because
you are not forgiven by only me
but by all my pieces too.

.
.
.
.
.
.
The challenge I created. Check it out #bookpoemchallenge

Well of course  I love you sweetie
but I  just love  my friends more, that's all

And lets face it
we both know who's gonna kick your sorry ****

when **this relationship ends

I'll be an empty canvas
as long as you're the paint
adding color to my madness.

I'll be the midnight sky
as long as you're the fireworks
and it's the fourth of July.

I'll be an empty stomach
as long as you're the butterflies.
I'll be the void
If you'll be the cries.
The ketchup to your fries.

Can't you see?
You fill me up so perfectly.
Like you were made for me
like you and I were meant to be.

You are...

The feet to my socks
The juice to my box
The tic tok to my broken clocks.

You are...

My reason being.

Your home has red tiles and broken windows
Your home has scratched sheets and soaked
pillows


Your home has green curtains and wide spaces
Your home has hard grounds with shoe traces


Your home has a star-view, late at night
Your home has a helpful crew, working right


Your home has a loud thumping rythym,
I guess your neighbor Arthery is a musician


Your home?

Your home is my heart.
Your presence is its state of art.

© Ellie Hughes 2014

You left your white T-shirt at my house
and it smells like you, every inch of it

I run my hands on it,

try to hold onto its well-knit threads
harder than I held onto you

I examine its V-neck
and try to make the same angle with my thumb and index
as I used to do when you wore it
hoping that my hand can still feel your heart beat

I rub my fingerprints against its sleeves
and gently reach the armpit
hoping you'd be tickled
and you'd tickle me back

and I'd sigh, as deeply
and desperately
as I ever could

when I remember,
when I realize
my hopes will never come true

and I'd never feel your heartbeat
or touch your skin through the softness of its fabric
I'd never tickle you
or punch you
or hurt you

I would never be with you

and when my tears fall on your shirt
I hold it as close to me
as it can be

It hits me
this shirt... your shirt...
it smells like me now

and I could never take that away

My arms wrap tight
around my waist

my toes clenched
muscles contracted

my hands in fists
throbbing wrists

I feel trapped
but I'm not claustrophobic

my arms wrap tighter
and my lungs cannot expand

this breath I need to take
is slipping from my hands

my arms
loosen
my lungs
expand

this breath
I take
is the sigh
I make

every
time
I think
of
you