i find it hard to love
the girl in the mirror
grotesque in every form
not from my iris
but from yours
your own child
agape spun of lies
raised out of spite
strangers by blood
words said with a smile
leaving a bitter taste

When we lie there, counting the stars together,
the warmth of the bonfire still blazing,
and stinging our eyes to tears,
You admit to me that you believe us twin flames.
That we were once conjoined souls, and now
we have found each other again.

The world keeps turning as I process these words.
Twin flames...
This is a proposal you are making.
To tie a band around my finger and cut off my blood flow,
suffocating me back to purple- the colour you loved.

"Stay here" the air around us begs,
"Please don't go so far, this town is enough for now"
Suddenly I feel as Aeneas did,
when tricked by Venus and Juno.
And you have suddenly morphed into Dido before my eyes.

I turn back to the stars, because I cannot bear to see your face,
as I tell you instead, that we are soul mates.
And although I love you with every inch of my heart,
we are Laurie and Jo, and I feel nothing more.

No day will be heaven,
if I don't find a problem I will cause one.
My emotions are oceanic-
unpredictable at best.
I don't speak well,
and don't think before.
I don't know if I can fully love you.
I can be obsessive and distant at the same time.
Physical contact is sometimes suffocating,
blame that on drunk men,
and I'm apathetic.

I'm shaking as I go down to meet you
and I don't like to see you in chains.
I know, I know.
Shh, listen-
It isn't time yet...
I need more time.

I know my efforts are fruitless in the end,
because the chains were never locked.

there are two sides to this coin.

The first side could be my pessimism,
and maybe its just my mind playing tricks on me.

The other side could be that this is reality.
That i truly am impossible to love.

all i ask
is when you see my weep
turn away
pretend it's not happening
the embarrassment i'm feeling out ways that of yours

when i'm angry walk away
let me vent and scream and cry
leave me alone
i will always come back to you

when i'm panicked don't touch me
don't communicate or look at me worried
it's okay to leave me and ignore
i will never hold it against you

I've was hung up on you when i was fourteen
you used to show up in cat ears
and band tee's and that stupid short hair
countless nights i dreamt of you
and that carried on until about 2 months ago
when i fell asleep and dreamt of someone new
a boy with strange eyes and a crooked smile
I've moved on and yet i feel im cheating

Nothing stings me more,
or swells the bile deep within the pit
more than the realization
that i can never be sure of anything.
I don't know you, or her or anybody.
If I drop a penny I can't be certain it will land.
I desperately want control, yet I won't ever have it.

Was probably the biggest lie I told myself.
That its normal to feel uneasy
at words unspoken,
and it's okay not to trust your partner.
Because it shouldn't matter that there are bad parts,
as long as there are small goods.

But it's all a lie.
I want to feel safe and secure and loved above all,
and it should not be conditional on my submission.
I want to be a person who is silly and laughs without fear
or withdrawal.
Because it's not commitment I was afraid of,
It was you.

It started with a relapse.
Nothing too bad, but a relapse nonetheless.
I regretted it the second I put down the blade,
and picked up the cloth to clean.
I kept it to my right foot, hidden by a sock.
A new, safe secret.

Then the bone broke,
fourth toe from the left.
It oozed and swelled immediately,
turning horrible shades of purple and black.
Every step I took was agony,
yet I couldn't speak up, and admit to the bone I broke-
at the cost of admitting that I'm fighting a losing battle.

the harsh jab of an intrusive needle,
nor the empty space which darkness brings,
nor a giant of the sea
opening up and stealing me away.
how can i place fear in such material objects,
when my mediocrity and lonesomeness
haunts my waking moments?

it's not hyperbolic to say
that i will not be missed.
When the dust settles, and the fae hide between them;
when the fire burns out to ash-
no. I won't be missed.

You met me in brown,
knew me through red
and i suppose you favoured purple.
Black and green came and went- but you never really saw those,
and brown was temporary again.

And the stinging is worth it,
to be a colour you never met.

I'm not an emotional woman.
I cry scarcely and secretly,
but there's something to be said
about seeing the rain
for the first time in years,
that truly and utterly
moved me to tears.

how can i be in love with someone who put me in the hospital
who told the entire world my deepest secret
tormented me for years
convinced me i was delusional
and broke my heart more times than counted

the sole reason for my fear of abandonment
pressured me to commit to something i didn't want
blamed me when it went wrong
yet still continues to fluctuate into my life.

the fact i still let you in speaks volumes of my
apparent hatred for myself

if i cared enough
about you
or the way you think about me
perhaps i'd choose a better
synonym
for our love
but you don't deserve that
and neither do i

i like the danger of hard boiled sweets
something so sweet and innocent
has the capability to cease my breathing
and turn me violet
i'm too old to cut myself
or cry in the teachers office when i feel blue
so i **** these sweets
and hope i choke

i often laugh about it with friends
how absurd some of the scenes can be
the bizarre and the taboo
even the funny ones at times
when we are young we are taught
of how *** is nothing but intimate
and serious (and deadly)
yet in this modern age,
we find sitting on a cone will do
or dressing as a spider and perusing your prey
is just the bee's knees

I had never kissed you with such passion
you had remarked later on whilst i lay on your chest.
It was so different,
had something changed?
I smiled and shook it away
too timid to tell you that you tasted of nicotine
and i had given up.

taking pity on the drunk girl
lying on my lap
begging me to kiss her
spewing on my leg
so i sit with you
your eyes are closed
resembling a rather large and ugly baby
you beg me to call you attractive
and i am revolted as you crush me
but i hold it in
call you pretty
speak of a fictional crush i supposedly have on you
which you probably remember
but i remember the ***** in your hair

In my mind
you are in my arms
loving me without thought
but you aren't you
and i am alone.

you are the only person i feel i must apologize to,
for you were noble and kind for the duration.
I can't think of any sour words against you;
yet I salted the earth around us,
tarnished your name in our world by
speaking such ill and false tales.
I invoked such torrid guilt to stir within you,
and my only excuse could be my own twisted enjoyment.
To me you were a toy, yet to her you are the world.

back when we were fourteen
the heat blazing outside
and that stupid game was still popular
i'd lie on your lap
you'd rest your controller on my head
mine on my stomach
my chemical romance blasting in the background

your rationality makes me want to scream out blue
and throw sickles towards your already minted jacket
the world is bouncing
higgledy-piggledy
yet somehow you keep you feet firmly on the mountainous hills
ignore my pleas for the outer world
to stop blowing bubbles and snap them in half
or cause a sensation in a pool of tar
it must be exhausting to be unruly and rational

I am well acquainted with Sad.
We have performed a waltz or two,
perhaps a Pas de Deux.
And I thought I liked Sad-
but I suppose that's purely from habit.
And nothing can, nor will compare
to the ecstasy that Anger brings.

i daren't even ask how it came
that my body and soul may be thrown across the sea.
yet i know this isn't the first time
in a life previous you hurt me too

so i'm sat there
purposefully ditsy
i've perfected my laugh to be two octaves higher
my hair unnaturally straight
belly trapped and contained for now
red marks flushed against the milky white of my skin
caused by wires and hidden my clothes
but still you don't look at me

soon enough i give up
my mane is let lose
i allow my stomach to breathe and fold over
overgrown and bushy in all senses of the word
(not as a personal choice i may add, simple sloth)
the hazel in my hair now stripped and yellow
my laugh lands deep and guttural, somewhat ******

you tell me i changed and i scoff
you expect me to envy the boy who never changed?
same laugh same weight same personality
no development except for new purple haze
a drug on which your entire identity
i'd laugh if i felt anything more towards you than pity

is it selfish of me to want to go through my depression alone?
you took my mental health into your own hands
intruded without my consent
you always talked about my burden upon you
which you placed on yourself
you only heard me speak and never listened
your ignorant filter blocking out my pleas
when the thin and wiry strands on your head turned grey
you blamed me, and i blamed myself

when you got into a relationship of your own
i'll admit it was hard for me to let go
but i tried
and it was unfair that my temper often turned sour
when you bragged about your healthy relationship with a bigot
but i tried
you tried to place jealousy into my anger
over him taking your time
when in reality, it was my neutrality which truly upset you

i was sixteen when i decided that
i needed to be a big girl and make my own choices;
codependency never suited me, i'm an archer at heart.
i kept a secret affair from you
not out of spite, you never crossed my mind
but simply because i wasn't ready to tell you
that was my choice.
you took that from me.
now i've always been a bad liar
it's lost its effect at this point
but as my friend i would have expected you to respect that
turn away, let sleeping dogs lie.
give me a month and i would have come to you
you took that from me.
your screaming voice still haunts me
but not as much as her teary eyes and the aftermath that followed.

guess what? i lied again
and you knew, again.
it wasn't me who had the second chance, rather you
be a good friend
i'm begging you to turn away
but, of course, you didn't.
my relationship shattered (or at least it appeared too)

my actions turned fox-like
we met, we smoked, we fell in love again.
5 or 6 times that summer at least.
i'm not sure you knew but i don't care anymore.
yes, the relationship failed
but guess what?
it ended on my own terms.
the liberation of that was inexplicable.

i still see you sometimes.
we take the same bus and its unavoidable
i still sneak around even though my need for that charade
ended a long time ago
and i suppose you still hold the world on your shoulders
no one asks you to but still you persist
we're just strangers now
and i can truly say from the deepest pits of my heart
that losing you as a friend will always be my happiest memory.

you can tell because my wrists are healed
no marred scar now.
except,
you've noticed an influx in inhalation
in regards to tar in my lungs,
as well as a freshly pinked scalp
from where the hair is white.
you've noticed i pause when near the road
or comment on architectural structure without prompt.

i am getting better because my wrist is healed
but i'm getting worse because my actions are subdued.

It's a promise they make to you.
Just after you do it.
When your lungs are freshly pumped,
and your wrists bandaged up.

The age old lie,
"It get's better, give it time."

How much time must I give to you?
You insistent slime.
How dare you claim to have an answer,
when there was no question at all?
Only a solution.

I wrote my oath in my blood and scarred my skin,
in my meek desperation to find something.
Anything!
I've cursed my organs and raptured my throat.
If I dare let myself think about it, then I can still
taste the bile I swallowed.

And yet. Still.
I am here.
I have been cursed to wander this world for eighteen years now,
and not one thing I have found has given me my answer.

It's not a sign, It is a burden.

every detail is etched in my brain
the sense of entrapment following my school teachers
dear old mum was there too
surrounded in a sense
the photographs were placed in front of me
dread soaking my (so far) untainted lungs
i admit it was me

the car journey was awful
cheery songs plague through the seats and i let the tears flow freely
**** the hospital for being so far
sympathetic glances are shot my way
and i hate each and everyone of them
i get several prep talks about my existence but all i can focus on
is my stupidity of getting caught
and my burning hatred for you

monday rolls around and i am released
more glances and harsher whispers
i don't know who told and i don't care
"is it true?" *******
you don't care about what i would have done,
you just need new gossip

their idea of help isn't helpful
years of bottling doesn't get fixed by kind words or well meanings

the torment worsens
yet i get punished for biting back

I want to tear you off,
cauterize the wound,
and never think of you again.
How dare barbarism overcome
something that has grown upon me?
Turned from child into tumor.
One part of my body I actually
had grown to appreciate,
soiled by a sober man
to a drunk teenager.

a girl who should not have seen
the turn of her 16th birthday
is facing the consequences
of actions chosen for her
and now she waits 6 days
maybe less maybe more

so you're sat in your car
dope coursing through your veins
or not, i neither know nor care
and you notice a girl across the road
ageless probably
all you know is she is built like a woman
and that is enough

so you roll down your window
smirk across at your friends
knowing glances shoot between you
"hey lady!" you roar
"give us your number then!"

so she ignores you
your masculinity scorned
ignorant rage replaces the dope
hurling abuse is all you know so you throw it
you also throw a can for good measure
how dare she ignore your compliments?

two spoonfuls and a dash of honey
it changes but its this for now
my only dependency
and it isn't even sentient

i have rough days quite frequently
and it's nice to come home to the bitter
yet homely taste

at this point in my life
you're more of an obsession than a love
no
not obsession
addiction
like a ritualistic inhalation of smoke just to feel dizzy
i'm at peace
with how i don't love you
now it's just a habit

there is thunder outside my bedroom
it used to make me think of you
the time when we hid under a bridge
or out in a tent
curled up with only each other on the mind
this was the first in a while
where you crossed my mind
instead i find myself
just enjoying the storm

its underwhelming if im truly honest
you read about it
as if its some giant monster
immediately taking control
poor sad little girl staring out into sea
fragile tears cascading
no hope for survival
only the strong can survive
we bury the weak at dawn

its gradual
seeps in through my pore and never out
we move together as one
i barely notice it
and i guess that makes it more dangerous
things that were one-offs become habits
sleeping late, eating too much
forgetting to shower
im weak for letting it in so much
but i can't imagine life without it

you cradle me
causing me to ****
and twist in front of you
you melt away in order for me to flourish
its all for you
i do this all for you
all things aside you're burning me

I held the moon in my hands today,
and I wept a little.
He asked me,
"you do you weep?"
and we shared the burdens of the world.
Mister Moon is not wise,
but he is reliable.

Whether it stings or collects honey,
it is always a bee.
And you are a bee.

To grow is to develop,
as we all do with age.
A seed becomes a flower, a tadpole into a frog.
But you, you are a bee.

Yes, I'm denying your change.
Because to change is to show and you only
seem to tell.
To tell me, of all people, you've grown.

A bee is still a bee,
whether it stings or not.

For the first time, in a long time
I lost myself.
no, no. Not lost...
Indulged myself.

How foolish of me to think that it was you
who was red
Ha!

It's not lust or love that surrounds you,
but rather the pure, unfiltered wrath
which engulfs and consumes me.

I do believe I have found a new mistress,
and I am loving the red.

darling, let's not bicker tonight.
hold my hand for just an hour longer
and we can waltz around this edge.
you shan't tempt me tonight,
although my defense is slipping.
why don't we kiss away the light
tonight,
and step into the dark?

From my fathers stomach,
untimely ripped
did you cast your eyes upon me.
Betrothed by blood and you beat your wings
against my breast
to steal from me my youth.
My consent was reaped with guilt,
yet dare i ask fidelity from you?

You foresaw your brothers actions,
mimicking our romance
stealing youth again and providing
a queen for all dare enter.

She was younger than I,
summoner of spring.
A babe that still begged for a mothers touch,
Oh her mother!
The soul that even the sun cast out...

it starts with setting plates down
just enough force to make a sound
then it goes to talking
with less filter then usual
the worst is the silence
my mind can do more damage then you ever could
and you let it reign free
your gaze blank
yet somehow piercing
dread building

i noticed that my poems are often
how should i say it?
accusatory
but what can i say
i'm the hero in my own story

I could not hold Salvont
in the same way I clutched the moon.
Instead he asked me for knowledge
and my intention of my placement.
It's easy to ignore Salvont,
as I can simply step away.

everyday is a test to convince myself to not hate for eating
and its one step forwards two steps back
i try to feel empowered or fierce or something other than awful
yet you always loom with the sly comments
its my fault for being too fragile
but its a **** hard truth when the women at my job
taught me more about self love
then the woman who bore me

although i often claim to miss you
let me make this clear
i would rather bring a sterling blade to my throat
or pop my eyes out with a spoon
and die all alone with no family or friends
than ever belong to you again