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isabelle saloom Jun 2017
there is something inside of me that will always burn for you. it’s like my bones are embers; and every day since you left me, they burn less and it hurts less. i have scars from the times you got too close, burns all over my body that remind me that your idea of love is pain. i still can’t catch my breath from the oxygen that you stole to keep your fire ignited. you are an oxygen thief, your quick hands and charismatic smile. i didn’t realize that i had been holding my breath until the day you disappeared and the air surged from my mouth. it’s been three months, fourteen days, five hours, and twenty-one seconds since you left. and i am learning how to keep myself warm. but some nights, i look desperately for a spark in the pile of ashes that you left at my feet. because even on some nights, it is hard to stay warm on my own.
this is what i imagine losing someone you loved would be like but realizing that they never loved you the way you deserved to be loved. NEVER accept less love than you deserve
isabelle saloom Nov 2016
you told me of your secrets, and i whispered mine back too. though, i dont think you heard me over the sound of your own words. i caught every secret you throw at me and buried them all with my own, but my share of secrets bounced off the wall that you had built and tucked themselves further into my expanding heart. i tried to tell you that i wasn't very good at catching things, but you didn't seem to notice my lips part and spill out words. no, you just carried on spitting secrets off of your tongue and expected me to keep them for you whilst i got nothing in return. yes, it's true that you made my heart grow bigger, but it wasn't full of love; only of the secrets you forced me to give a home to. and i kept these secrets for you, i gave them a place to stay because i thought that is what friends were meant to do. it's funny, i never asked myself but who's friend were you?
isabelle saloom Aug 2016
pain spreads like a pandemic, infecting even the kindest of us. sadness is a painful bruise evident on the surface of our skin. we wear emptiness like it is the latest fashion trend. the contagion spreads through our word; it reaches the depths of our hearts. during times like these, we ask God, "where are you?" only to be met with a cold silence. our own twenty-first century plague. we are the rats that carry the virus. the few of us appear who asymptomatic eventually succumb to the pathogen. we overdose on pills and drown ourselves in alcohol to escape pain only to learn that it is inexorable. our words are pernicious and our actions are even more so. we create a false image of unity in the light of unfavorable times, which seem to come more frequently than in the past. we hold each others hands and hold our own tongues hoping that submitting to our government will save us this time. we are wrong, but we choose again and again to hide from the perilous truth; we are not safe from each other or from ourselves. any detriment that we suffer is entirely deserving.
isabelle saloom Jul 2016
the sky opened up and rain spilled onto my fractured back. drops of water slipped through the tiny cracks, traveling through my body to mix into my blood. the thunder clapped in my ears with a loud thud, shaking the organs shielded by my rib cage. the lighting struck with intensity and rage, sending jolts of electricity through my veins. heavy pellets of water slammed into the windowpanes, shattering the glass and leaving cuts on my hands. the trees crashed to the forest floor right where i stand.

and in all of this catastrophe, i only thought of you.
of your lips against my neck,

your hands on the small of my back,

your eyes meeting mine in the darkness of night,

your i love you’s which were spoken without any words at all,

your beautiful smile that bandaged my bruised heart,

but most of all, i thought of how you used to carry some of the weight too.
i miss you.
isabelle saloom Jul 2016
and suddenly the ocean roared with life, waves crashed into the coast,
washing over our bodies as we lay in the sand,
(your lips tasted of salt water taffy
and your breath against my neck felt like an ocean breeze
your hands tickled my skin like the sand against our feet)
i closed my eyes and let myself sink deeper and deeper into the shore
the saltwater filled my esophagus
and i screamed your name
but you just watched me sink further until i was no more
isabelle saloom May 2016
I can't escape you,
for your name is carved into my bones
and your smile is sewn into my memories.


I can't escape you.
there are scars on my skin where your hands
       have been.
there are blisters on my lips where you have
         kissed.


I can't escape you;**
I saw you in the school corridor today,
and I felt myself gravitate toward you.
I wanted to feel your hair between my
         fingers;
I wanted to feel your lips against mine.
being safe in your arms is the closest to
home I've ever been.
I could feel my muscles ache to reach for
           you.
I was close enough that the smell of your cologne hit me hard.
your arm brushed mine,
and I tried to play it cool.
but all that I want is you.
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