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Haley Tyler May 2018
Years I spent playing handyman
Fixing the cracks and the rotted wood
Of a relationship that had already been condemned
Watching from the sidelines as they threw stones in the house they built together out of glass
And I dutifully glued each shard together
Until my fingers started to bleed
And I realized I had no glue to put myself back together
and they’d just tear the house down again anyway | h.t.
Haley Tyler May 2018
There's popcorn on the ceiling,
a million bajillion clusters that I've spent days trying to count.
In the 1950's these ceilings exploded into popularity.
And until 1977, homeowners blasted asbestos covered popcorn toward the sky, letting mesothelioma fibers fall back to their floor like it was harmless dust.
I take a deep breath, letting the air settle deep in my chest before letting it back out.
My ceiling is probably not made of asbestos.
It's probably styrofoam or some other cheap, paper-based product.
I take another deep breath.
The EPA banned the use of asbestos in these ceilings.
Apparently, inhaled in large quantities, asbestos causes lung disease, lung scarring, and lung cancer.
Another deep, deep breath.
I continue counting the probably not cancer causing popcorn.
I wonder if I would be able to feel the particles swimming in my lungs like fiber glass–thin, delicate, sharp.
I wonder if it would **** me.
I wonder if my family would file a claim like you see on those old commercials screaming,
"If you or a loved one developed mesothelioma you, yes you, could be entitled to compensation."
Or, something like that.
The air tastes funny.
My ceiling is most likely not made of asbestos.
But, I probably wouldn't care if it was.
I went down a weird internet spiral and now I know a lot about different kinds of ceilings | h.t.
Haley Tyler Apr 2018
What do you do
with the curtains drawn and lights off?
In an empty house does time stop?
Do the walls talk?
Do dust motes dance above countertops?

What do you do
alone in your head,
Are you keeping yourself fed?
Do you curl up in the safety of bed?
Do you drag your feet as if they’re lead?

What do you do
with no where to go?
Do you allow the emptiness to grow?
Or do you try to fight the low?
Or maybe, just maybe, let someone know?
liminal: adjective. relating to thresholds. the state of being in between. | h.t.
Haley Tyler Mar 2018
She walks through an empty house
with fingers trailing along the walls
tracing every memory made within them
wishing time could take her back to when she was whole
and not the ghost she has become
a spirit trapped in her own body | h.t
Haley Tyler Mar 2018
I dare you to peel away my skin,
dig in my flesh and pull me out
of this ******* shell I’m in.
Leave me raw and pink,
A sunburn from your soul,
that righteous light, the missing link.
Fill a hollow heart that doesn’t beat
but you’ll find in a corpse,
it just won’t keep
I was pronounced dead on arrival | h.t
  Feb 2018 Haley Tyler
I know I'm not as quiet as I could be when I should be.
But thoughts are just perpetual graves dug over and over.
That seems a bit redundant,
but so is this thought.
Haley Tyler Feb 2018
i'm tired of treading lightly
scraping teeth against my tongue
to stifle the truth
exhausting a mind masquerading as a thesaurus
trying to find the prettiest words
to protect your heart
my lips were a dam and now it's flooding | h.t
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