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honor Feb 2015
i think about all the lessons i have been taught. i take them to heart.

i think about how even when you want to urge "drop dead", the moment they tell you they would cut their throat if you didn't love them, the words burn up in your mouth. i love you will not roll off the tongue as easily. when i find myself throwing away everyone who excels in ways you never could.

when someone invites me to walk besides them without words, when a stranger is just inches in front of my footsteps. crossing the street, passing them, being anywhere other than behind. how i can never walk besides someone in case they pretend like you did.

when friendship was about grabbing a fist to pull your muddied self off the ground, when the hand that feeds you is the same to slap you. how you say you're sorry and when i say it doesn't matter, it means more than one thing.

what happens to me when i don't speak my mind. what happens to me when i do.

putting a name to the workings of my heart
a funnily familiar word. it comes to me, where i've heard it before, that time i heard you spit it out when i was walking home.
somehow it still doesn't come as easily as it did for you

looking at the mirror
wondering who in their right mind would, if your sick self hadn't wanted to.
and what a pity for you that you coaxed me out of my shell but not quite these intimates.
i wonder how i was too young to know better, and too old not to by anyone else's standards

i don't patch myself up as much as i do try and build over, hibernate for winter in a coffin i picked out myself.

do you think that if i had my hands in your chest like yours had mine, i'd finally be enough to make your stomach turn?
it's not really worded for beauty as much as it is "i started thinking about a lot of bad things and wanted to get them out of my head". repressed anger is fun.
honor Jan 2015
here and now, a body, pinned down by the wearings of a busy day. sunken down into a mattress, a struggle to as much as twitch in victory. not so much anything else.

it's the reward of progress, attempts to right wrongs and slay beasts with two words, not three, and a swipe of ink. the burn of lax limbs, with wide eyes left lonely in their company.

but it's a glance into a sweeter future. it's being things and doing things, claiming things, chasing things. pulling the littlest victories to your side and squeezing them for all they are worth.

a heart that bursts for the yet to come, eyes ever the explorer, even with head slack on a pillow.

it's all the energy i'm going to need for now.
so very tired
honor Mar 2014
dear, you cut me off mid-sentence.
for all my skills, techniques and terms
here's a thing i can't find a way to convey.
a narrative even beyond comprehension to it's protagonist

a girl without a simile or metaphor applicable?
somebody to leave me laconic, short in syntax, unstructured.
will we discuss possessive pronouns now?
for in subtext, i am the possessive one.

i'm so lacking verbally
but i'm sure you'd understand it contextually
to punctuate: i can be the ellipsis, the implication of my omissions
but you're in my text as the most eager mark of exclamation
honor Jan 2014
some kind of sting in my chest
some kind of buzz in yours, no doubt
like a businessman dashing after a train
i missed a cue, and i'll miss you too

is it as easy as it looks? how does it taste
to hurl your affection at someone who deserves it
than some rusted pipe dream, cloaked in pollution
stains from lovers, loathers past

if you had gotten under my skin then, and not now
ink in the creases of palms already so tainted
if i had let you get your hands on mine
wondering would i, could i have ever compared

you find someone else
you have no thread or needle, you cannot fix
only make do, trade in, replace
a better model, every part included

maybe you were right to jump ship
after all i am glad to sink with the wreckage
******* and **** him, more so, but
i do not doubt you would take that as an invitation
stupid feelings
honor Aug 2013
speculation pulls down on the body
the quick switch into panic, akin to the comedic drop of an anvil
when you realise that things aren't as simple as they seemed
it's amazing that you could even be shocked

but when has anything ever been simple?
what else is life to you but a riddle?
the questions which rush through your brain
sweeping you off your feet and onto the gravel

curiosity lunges at you, hungry and ready to feed
to claim another life, to rip each "what if?" out from your curled fists
you should have already known the murders it is capable of
but you would never take the proverb literally, would you

"things are the way they are, because they are"
do not lie back in the mud and be defeated
pull the mystery apart, unravel the string with your mighty claws
seize the day and avenge the cat
curiosity can **** a cat but maybe you'll survive
honor Aug 2013
i met a boy once with bluebells for eyes
a cold blue sparkling in his sockets
a cancer toyed with between his fingers
truth in his want but a false fidelity

manner like a court joker and name fitting of an aristocrat
were you embarrassed of me too
you were so prone to hiding things
i flowered as brightly as you

we spent such short time together
growing at a slow pace
of course i made it a tall tale
cherry lipstick across his face

like an explorer flagging the wonder of a new continent
like a killer especially with blood staining their fingernails
unable to hide their crime and their cruelty
but i guess that was foreshadowing
though you cut my stem, you never saw me wilt

— The End —