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Feb 2021 · 206
you said i turned out fine
frances love Feb 2021
i feel like i’ve lost all my shine,
everything that made me feel alive
i’m alive i’m alive i’m alive
i’m all i’ve got and i’m sub-par
at best;
i don’t do anything the same anymore
and i’m so afraid i’ll never do it the same again.

i'm scared that i feel my best when i'm
pinching at my skin, piercing at my will to feel,
reeling in from the pain that brings itself
down over me and creating my own
so i feel in control;
i'm afraid i'll always want to take it in my own hands.

when really i just want to feel like everything
matters enough to title my assignments
something funny, again.
growing pains
Jan 2017 · 643
missed connections
frances love Jan 2017
you were always there
just out of touch, and i did
not know how to reach
Nov 2016 · 389
unappreciative
frances love Nov 2016
can't find the good in everything
but i'll keep looking
because end-to-end, everything
has got to begin

can't fight the bad for the
sake of fighting something.
can't fight the good for not
being good enough for
picture-perfect

you can't frame something
in popsicle sticks and call it
a masterpiece, i guess
frances love Nov 2016
i saw god and she said that science was a sin
so i asked what level of hell i'll be rotting in
she said it was going to be okay

it's like suffocating and choking
on chunks of my own guts and i'm always
talking about dying, about living
but i dye all the time to prove i'm still
alive

and, man, i saw god today
she said nice to see you again.
Nov 2016 · 334
june 11 2015
frances love Nov 2016
i sat along the shore, waiting- god knows what for, but i was intent. maybe i was waiting for you to come back, like you always do. maybe i knew you weren't going to.

i could try. i could dream.

the sky went grey with clouds looming like they were full of judgement and not water- my anxiety swelled but i would not be deterred. i was waiting. the rain poured. something was bound to happen, though, and i didn't want to miss it.

the sun fled and the crowd dissipated and the city went on, cars pulsing through its veins but i stayed right there by the water looking out. my heart ached and melted but i swear i felt nothing.

i must've found eighty messages in eighty bottles and they all said the same thing. i didn't listen to a single one. i figured i hallucinated them.

my stomach hallowed and i tried to stand up but the tide dragged me back down. i saw a dolphin chasing a boat about fifty feet away and i tried to call out but it hurt. my lungs were on fire and the back of my throat tasted like bile as if my digestive tract was working on consuming myself, as if i was drowning but i couldn't have been drowning in two inches of water. the tourists with umbrellas and neon towels were long gone and my only company anymore was seaweed.

i was so terrified.


you didn't come back, and you weren't going to, and i knew it from the start but i didn't know what else to do.

at least the saltwater was washing away all the scars you left me. at least the rain would wash away the blood.
Nov 2016 · 655
combat boots
frances love Nov 2016
scraped knees and
blurry vision;
romanticizing nothing
that really mattered,
but it doesn't really
matter anymore; you
used to take me too
seriously and now he
laughs at all my jokes.

you can hear her dog
snoring from your bed-
room; i can hear you
whining from your
rocking chair. you
keep saying you are an
artist. i don't know
about that.
Nov 2016 · 849
breaking out of this
frances love Nov 2016
can't shake the feeling that i'm not enough
and no-one else has anything better to say
on the subject;

she feels like being hypnotized and when i
look in her eyes i don't know if she's real
or not, i've been down this road before. is
she a pretty face i'm stealing glances of
or is she a figment? oh, what a shame.

god, she's like a glass of red wine sitting
against my lips, souring every kiss, and just
like wine i'm gonna disappoint my lover by
taking another sip.

i feel so full of wreckage and broken glass i
think tonight i'm in over my head.
Sep 2016 · 311
victimology
frances love Sep 2016
it feels like someone
is gripping my throat.,
and squeezing, and
it's filling up with *****
and bile as they drag
me through their mud.
i feel like everything is
caving in and the walls
come crumbling down.
the walls come crumbling
down. the walls come
crumbling down.
i come hurling down.

how's it gotta feel to
not fear every glance,
how's it gotta feel to
not have a bullet in
your chest,

there's one for looking
the wrong way,
there's one for loving
the wrong way,
here's to being the wrong
way being the way out.

here's to being the next
headline, the next facebook
debate, here's to being a
social commentary and last
but so very least, a human
being.
Jan 2016 · 739
skull split on the road
frances love Jan 2016
ad hominem in utero;;
stuck in a hole just out
of grasp, you are the
shell of the boy that
you've been-- i am the
shell of the kid she
knew for all those years

and im sick of textbook
readings and im sick of
wasting your time trying
to breathe when youre
still hooked to an inhaler
and i'm sick of wasting
my time because i spend it
doing math while you are
wasting away, somehow-

i wish you were here, oh,
it feels like i've been
asleep for years in this
pouring rain and it feels
like i am the setting sun
even as i pour cup after
cup of coffee; the doctor
said he saved me, but im
still dead, im sorry.
Jan 2016 · 416
your passion, snapping
frances love Jan 2016
there are ghosts
in my eyes and
they scream into
my ears; there
are ghosts in your
touch and they
feel like all those
years but i think
we can shake them.
Jan 2016 · 1.0k
i'm an eternal flame, baby
frances love Jan 2016
textbook-romance;
one-sided and sickly
sweet i'd take you
into town and tell
you all the places
i've fallen and every
time i've ran from
the cops (read:- security
guys in neon shirts)
if you'd let me,,
and i'll doodle on
the margins of your
notebook and we can be
fawning-gushing high
school lovebirds until
i get sick of you just
like everybody else.

i am self-destruct i do
not care at all i am so
sick of this.
Jan 2016 · 369
i used to be so young
frances love Jan 2016
every day is a vigil
on being who i am not,
on existing where i don't
feel like i belong and
every word is a struggle
to get the hell out of
dodge, each line is a
fight.

a monster, they said, is
someone who burns their
ashes on your face and
spits to but them out-
a monster, i said, is
someone who lets you
down.

a monster, i said, is
someone like you and i.

you asked if i trusted
you and my response was
a lie, i can't even trust
myself- you asked me if
i loved you and my response
was a lie- of course i do.

for the first time in a long
time my exhilaration with life
is rekindled, my breaths come
easy again and i will not shut
myself out- for long-

for the first time in all of
time i catch your smile more
than just by chance...

they told me not to pick the
flowers so often if i loved
them, but that's a rule i'll
have to break--

i hope that doesn't stop them
from growing
writing about writing
Jan 2016 · 380
a pH of -1
frances love Jan 2016
the morphological differences
between you and i are that
i keep dividing and you keep
swallowing your tongue

not everything in the same skin
goes by the same name

the closest thing to my definition
is that of the drugs you hear about
on the television and how your
sixth grade health teacher feels
about them
on being no one to nothing
Jan 2016 · 501
frances intergalactic
frances love Jan 2016
i don't remember what it's like to be
fifteen or fourteen or thirteen or twelve;
i don't remember what it's like to be petals,
stomped upon, sometimes i don't remember
what it's like to exist before today,
anything other than otherworldly.

i started thinking in terms of galaxies and
solar systems where there should be dirt and
rain and i've tried to keep grounded with a
garden and with flowers but they all died; i
wasn't made for this.

there's probably a little bit of earthly me
waiting to be unlocked but i've lost(swallowed)
the keys and there's probably a little bit of
supernova me waiting to be unlocked but the
keys are on the top shelf (i am very short).
there is a whole lot of in-between me just hanging
around and i don't know how i feel about that.

she told me the world would be darker without me
but i have never been a star. i have always been
a planet. a comet. dust. maybe she is a dreamer,
maybe she is seeing something i cannot. i guess
all stars started out as something else.
Jan 2016 · 319
how to: today
frances love Jan 2016
i. eat spaghetti at 2am
with chapped lips and ****** knuckles
that you refuse to mend; don't
answer when people ask what
happened

ii. fall down the stairs
and wait until somebody notices to
finally get up

iii. shove studs through the shirt
you stole out of a backpack and
then bury it at the bottom of your
dresser; throw it away later

iv. climb under the computer desk and
sleep on the floor until somebody notices
but chances are they realize that you
must be pretty far gone to sleep under
the computer desk.

v. walk home in the rain and don't
jump in the puddles, but do watch
the frogs in the ditch and try to
catch them. appreciate the grey.
not knowing how to function and other fun things
Jan 2016 · 647
oceans from tidepools
frances love Jan 2016
dreamer; you might feel
lost at sea but guidance
has always been within
you; you will find shore
soon enough.

you can look to the stars
all night but they may
never hold the answers,
you can pray to your gods
and to your earth but
they might never write back

because, dreamer, you are
your own force of nature
you are the captain, and
you have never been lost.
Jan 2016 · 726
sunken in, drawn out
frances love Jan 2016
oh how the stars bloom
in your eyes like millions
of fireworks on the fourth
of july;

i dig my heels into the dirt
and i call out like the ground
to the rain and the ocean
to the moon-

i say,
"i will cry for you
until i go crashing down,"

and i don't wait
for a response.

— The End —