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Faith Turnage Sep 2017
you said you loved me
then you left

you said you loved me
then you left

but your love was based on a condition that lacked appreciation, but rather possession
and when it occurred to you that i could not be plucked from the ground and hung upside down to dry from your ceiling
you said you loved me
and then you left

your desire for my life outweighed your desire for my heart
i let you see into my core, underneath my skin and my bones
to my undertones and i loved you more

you said you loved me, but when I decided that I was my own, you lifted your eyes above me, and decided your love was meant to leave me alone

you were my best friend
you said you loved me
and then you left
Faith Turnage Sep 2017
im wearing the hoodie that you paid for
but im still cold
i hope your mom is doing okay
you keep showing up when i sleep

god im so *tired
Faith Turnage May 2017
i haven't written much these days
because i can't find anything to say
about these dark days or my odd ways
of thinking
in a way that actually conveys anything
better than a blank page would
so, it should be understood that this essentially
is an empty journal entry and
says more than i can, today
Faith Turnage Mar 2017
"Tell me something nice," I type. Send. Wait.
You're busy. That's alright. Okay.
Moving on to the tough decisions such as "Do I eat or do I a shower?"
Because I really only have the energy to do one.
Lifeless hours.
Suddenly, I'm crying. And I promise I'm not lying when I tell you
that I cannot pinpoint why my words taste so sour
inside my mouth.
You see, my mind is never black or white, day or night, it's a constant gray, a fog in twilight.
And I'm sorry that I cannot explain my brain to you or either of us and that you're the receiver of what thoughts spill out of me and tarnish the mood of the room.
I'm sorry that I'm telling you how I feel now because you always in turn feel the need to somehow repair what brokenness you assume is there. Right above my throat and behind my confused eyes.
(1) New Message - tell me something nice.
Faith Turnage Mar 2017
and I keep searching for poems to say the words that I cannot, but the poetry inside my head does not exist underneath the pen of anyone else.

So, I will keep writing until I run out of thoughts or breath - whichever comes first.
Faith Turnage Mar 2017
I'm ashamed of my last name
I'm ashamed of the strain that I put on myself when feel that I've gained nothing from a day, except another day
thrown away
It breaks me apart inside, stomach to heart when even a second
seems wasted
I'm not creating enough, I'm just debating my bluff with you
I'm okay today, all under control
the story's old, I know, self.
when I'm not moving my feet, defeat hangs over me like impending failure
and I can't stay here, I'll fail here
I have to look myself in the eyes, it's do or die
Get out before it's too late to create the life that you know belongs to you.
Faith Turnage Mar 2017
I do not know why I'm writing now
But the words run off the screen in a blur
the voices, disturbed
silence for a moment as I own them and make them immortal
a portal, these words are my version of an excursion through my psyche
I'm a bit dizzy, mind busy, my eyes dilating
as my lungs are deflating and filling with rain
the thunder is in my brain and the flowers that grow up
we're all insane, it's a shame
thoughts of somewhere else, in a book somewhere on a dusty shelf
that we visit from time to time to remind us of who we were.
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