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 Nov 2017 Aubrey Jones
Emmy Anne
You once called me a delicate flower. But you've forgotten that roses have thorns.
2/15/15
 Nov 2017 Aubrey Jones
oni
cut
 Nov 2017 Aubrey Jones
oni
cut
i am an artist
of my own
destruction

i dabble in
shades
of crimson

my only
canvas
is a sheet
of pale flesh

and my artistry
is to
die
for
Cut
Thoughts take over
Tears fall down my face
cut
cut
cut
"I'm doing it again, I don't know what to do..help me!"
"Just try to forget about what's bothering you!
cut
cut
cut
"Its not that easy"
"Well stop what you're doing! It doesn't make things better"
"To me it does.."
cut
cut
cut
"I find what you're doing nasty and pointless,just do something to get you're mind off of it. Talk to someone!"
(I'm trying to talk to you but you find what I'm doing nasty..thanks for the help)
cut
cut
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"I stopped"
"Good,don't do it again"
I can't promise that..
-te
Just a conversation I had with someone earlier..
 Nov 2017 Aubrey Jones
arham
Drama
 Nov 2017 Aubrey Jones
arham
It takes processing.
Every slice,
every tear,
one pint after the next.

Waiting for pain,
once again,
the cycle isn't bound to end.

Under control,
the edge in hand,
a round of jagged scars all around.

On the house,
a bout of pain,
a pitcher of grief,
can't get enough of this misery.
from the mind of an anxious depressive

from the time i, as a little girl,
dressed up like a princess
[tiara and all,
pouffy, pink dress and all]
listened to my mother tell me
a fairy tale
of a woman who finds
her prince charming,
and is rescued by him,
and lives happily, happily ever after
in a magnificent palace by the sea…
and i, as a brooding teenager,
insecure and reclusive,
observed a
[now viewed as ridiculous]
romantic film
about a woman who finds her
one true Love,
and he rescues her,
and they live happily, happily ever after
in a beautiful three-bedroom home
where they raise two,
perfect children…
and i, as a young woman,
fully aware and adept,
recognizing the world for what it is
as *i
see it,
seeing love dismantle time,
and time again....

i am fully aware that nothing can possibly last for a happily ever after.

the doubt is consuming,
the wall is well-built and
unyielding.
my heart remains too crippled
to possibly endure the grief that
falling in Love elicits.

but,
Love finds you even if you have
given up the notion of it.
it gallops in on its white horse.
has bright blue eyes.
sparks a smile that can illuminate
my somber heart.
has no regard for my opposition to itself.
is selfish and greedy and exhausting.

it is utterly impossible to avoid
being seduced
into the black hole
from which i will never leave
precisely the same.
from which i will surrender
a piece of myself
essential to my functioning.

Love sweeps in like a tornado
[destroying everything in its path]
and so the five stages of falling in Love,
and falling apart,
begin.

denial.
i feign disinterest.
i pretend as if he doesn’t
engross my thoughts
as if my heart doesn’t encroach upon my stomach
when he enters the room.
if asked by a friend,
“why does your face turn bright red
when he dares to utter your name?”
i pretend like she is the insane one
[when i am the one denying my heart.]

anger.
i become enraged.
Love has taken control.
the knowledge that i let Love
dismantle the wall,
that i have spent years building,
and reinforcing,
[brick by brick, piece by piece]
infuriates me.
i let him gradually demolish it.
and now i am powerless and susceptible,
and now he has me by the heartstrings.
he holds me in his greedy palms.

bargaining.
i avoid the fact that i am falling,
yes, i am falling.
oh, so deeply for him.
i watch myself fall from such great heights
straight into the ground
crashing through to the
center of
the world.
i even pray to God,
the one i'm not even sure i believe in.
i tell Him that i would do anything,
anything just to take back control.
to have two firm hands on the wheel.
to be the driver
instead of the passenger.

depression.
i cannot bring myself
to shove off the covers.
to crawl out of bed.
i am miserable and helpless and
he is all i can think about.
he is my first thought
when i am awake.
my last when my mind
finally tires of him,
and i fall into a
fitful night of sleep.
yet, i do not tell him any of this.
he wonders why i am so distant,
so removed from him.
what he does not know is that
he carries part of myself with him
wherever he goes.

acceptance.
when my nerves have finally worn themselves down,
when my heart has reached an understanding with my mind,
when Love does not appear as something to be grieved,
that is when i fall in Love.

never once have i
accepted Love from a man,
Love that could alter
my melancholy mind,
nor have i trusted a man with my heart.
[although i have been forced by Love itself to relinquish it.]

i have been obstinate and headstrong
and refused to give all of myself
in fear of losing myself.
but maybe one day, i will be
rescued from myself.
you are not just skin and bones
you are delicate,
a bit like glass

stop cutting yourself over
the brokenness you try to find
 Nov 2017 Aubrey Jones
Sam
Your lips made of broken glass

Leave me bleeding

As I try to utter the hushed words

'I love you'
i don't know,
how to write you in a way,
that makes you as safe as my childhood home.
i can cover you in a blanket of verbs,
i can shroud you in adjectives until it hurts,
i can fill you with nouns until you feel chained to the ground.
it seems as if there isn't even one thing i'm incapable of doing,
and then you ask me to paint you pretty.
with what, darling?
i made your eyes out of all the monstrous things i've seen,
and your legs from the darkest places i've been.
i crafted your bones out of the metal that used to cling to my teeth,
and your blood from the multicolored ink that helped me write all my gut-wrenching things.
i gave you a heart from the graveyard down the street,
and your eyes from the streetlights where we used to meet.
i formed your feelings from the jar of fireflies atop my dresser,
and your lips from the secrets i held with my english professor.
aren't you pretty?
because you look beautiful to me.
*(even if i shaped you from all my worst qualities)
you fit me better than my favorite sweater
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