for a writer to be lovesick
is my only required ethic
in creating a work of heart
so when i skimmed your
saint kissed mouth
and moonlight eyes
indeed my first thoughts were— ah! art!
there it was
cupid’s finely-poised dart!
draw, aim, fire!
o, so sweet, a sinful desire
lovesick! lovesick! lovesick!
i wish to write you a work of art, angelus dulce!
you whispered with ferocity
“love is an illusion, chèri.
but illusion is the first of all pleasures”
and at that moment
i dipped my body in your delusional paradise
and praised the saints for giving me the ****** wine to drink
illusion is the first of all pleasures.
you feel too little
and i feel too much.
you remind me of the sun
burning and brightly beaming
but if i get too close, i’ll simply
but i was always the one to take risks.
the smoke started to follow you
and this was expected
because smoke does follow beauty
and you're constantly surrounded by it
with the lit end of your cigarette
the slender cigarette is resting between your ******* and you inhale the nicotine that is living in your lungs
sometimes i want to rip it out of your mouth and squish it with my the tip of my boot
but instead, i stay put because only you can make death look so marvelous.
i tried telling my best friend at the time that i was hurting and my heart was ready to explode, it felt as if my lungs were giving up and i knew i was going to slit my wrists in the bathtub sooner or later with my clothes still on.
he laughed in my face and told me there was nothing wrong with me. i stood there in silence, trying to accept that my own best friend didn't believe me when i said i was falling apart. i cried myself to sleep that night and woke up in my own saliva, it was disgusting.
my best friend told me he loved me to death and would do anything to protect me. he tried kissing me one night and things haven't been the same since. he makes me want to wrap myself up in barbed wire and drop myself off a high cliff, falling hard onto the ground.
but if i tell him that
wrote this during a depressive episode. usually i don’t write about myself, but lately, i found myself doing exactly that.
i love you the first time
i'll love you the last time
dame tu cadena y dame tu corazón
because i'm your poet on fire
and you're my royal blue singer
i love you forever
i'll love you forever
i wrote this a few days ago, this was obviously heavily inspired by lana
ILLUMINATE ME. MAKE THE ROOM GLOW.
BREATHE HUMANITY INTO MY COLD DEAD LIPS.
DIP YOUR BLEEDING TONGUE INTO MY RIBS AND
TASTE LIFE ON MY SINEW. I CRAVE THE FEELING OF
BEING WANTED, I THRIVE OFF THE FEELING OF LOVE
AND PASSION. I CUT MY FINGERS ON YOUR SHARDS BUT
I LICK THE BLOOD OFF AND KEEP TRYING.
THEY SAY IM A HAZARD
BUT THAT’S ONLY BECAUSE THEY
HAVEN’T MET YOU.
he plays a sweet symphony—
touches as soft as silk
cherry stained kisses like
remedies to my mouth
he reads my skin like poetry
and whispers about dissolving into our skin—
it’s my soul
it isn’t yours anymore.
in the land of gods and monsters
i was an angel looking for salvation
and he had the medicine i needed
he made my blood bleed gold rivers
and my heart pump love songs
in the land of gods and monsters
i was an angel looking to be adored
liquor and love
life imitates art
if i get a little prettier, can i be your baby?
in the lands of gods and monsters
i was an angel.
you have moon dust in your veins
and i want to taste the cosmos!
take my body away
toss it onto the pile
of all your rag dolls
i'm just a vhs tape waiting
to finally be used and wanted.
you are a human blood bath
filled with destruction and wars
you taste like redemption
and i'm wondering if all the dying gods
taste the way you do.
curse my name with your serpent tongue. step back in disgust and purge all the memories of me like bad liquor—as if my name gave you a bitter taste in your mouth. act like the tastebuds on your tongue never craved any of it.
i’m clinging onto the little sanity i have left because the rest of it is decomposing like a dead corpse in the grave.
you told me i had no backbone, but last time i checked, all my limbs were a phantom.
the aeipthy feeling of this devil who devoured my heart last summer grows every morning and night. i can see still the pieces of my flesh in between his teeth when he smiles, and i never felt so empty.
i learned that love bites
don’t always mean
‘i love you.’
this was part of a full poem, but i’m editing that and might not post it? so here’s my favorite line that i had in it.
you spend every friday and saturday night
with white dust attached and sprinkled on your nose. sometimes you’ll tell me it’s a quarter of the moon, and all of the gods have to taste the galaxy too.
you sometimes scream that i’m the worst addiction you have ever endured and sometimes you whisper that you don’t want to quit me. you tell me without me you can’t live
that my hands send you to the highest heavens and my lips make you taste it
you claim that the universe is that spot between my thighs, you also claim you know the route to the underworld and to get there is by pulling my spine
you ask me if i can save such a ******* soul
because you are drowning in my love
and i tell you it’s gonna be okay
while i tie the anchor around your feet.
they told me i'd be signing the DNR papers
if i fell in love with you
and i remember putting down my signature
i’m going to be posting some shorter poems because they need some love too
two years later,
do traces of me still
hide in the pages of your worn-out
song book, the same way i scatter pieces
of you in the crossed-out lines of my poetry?
let our radiant warm bodies unfold between the bedroom’s white sheets and sink into the only religion we know— lust; hoping it revives us from our past sins.
we drench our messy souls in kerosene
so that when the fluorescent citylights
touch our fruit sap skin, we can burn tenderly
and call it afire love! we dance in old hotel rooms and paint each other’s bodies with technicolor beats and map each other’s anatomy and build pavements of small towns from it so we can finally stop telling ourselves that we’re lost souls.
our hearts vandalize our innocence and youthful skin in each other’s name dedicated to these serene days that we will never forget because i heard that’s what lovers do.
i don't need your help. my hands are not the ones covered in crimson. yes, they're shaking, but that's because you jabbed the knife in my guts repeatedly until i could no longer process my thoughts and all i can feel was the numbing pain. it didn't hurt, only when you pierced the flesh again and again, but it didn't hurt. you threw my phone across the room and i'm on the other side, i can't call an ambulance and my blood is soaking my shirt and carpet.
all i can hear is you saying that i'm in the wrong and that i'm the one with the knife.
ouch! that hurts, your fingernails are digging in my temples and you're trying to scream hateful verses in my ears as if they were prayers. and before i knew it, i bled out on the living room floor.
this is about a toxic friendship i was in and it completely ruined me. i wrote this at four in the morning, hoping to release some bitter emotions.
you claim that there is golden power dripping from the edges of your fingertips
you can make me beg for your touch
that you’re a god, and the man above is just a pretty delusion for us to hold on to something wholesome and sweet
i laugh at your tales
because in my mind, you will never curse me like you did those other girls
we’re both immortal when we’re together
the devil and his mistress
two angels that couldn’t redeem well enough
i like to think that i’m special to you
but we all know when you promise me something
you have your fingers crossed behind your back
i’m wondering if michaelangelo has finished the canvas painted on your body with ink, because my lipstick stains just don’t do the trick anymore
your hands are not golden
and you’re making me filthy
i wrote this last night, sobbing and in the dark. this is me talking about a very toxic relationship i endured that i thought was a fairytale. hope you enjoy and let me know what you think!
you were scabbed with the bitter breath and air of december's tragedy, and perhaps it's truly better than it sounds but i can never tell. i never lived my life in violent indigos.
the sun seeps through your window in such a way your dark night eyes look like a desirable honey that drips from a bee's hive
your lips are pulled tight because your tongue is filled with secrets that are ready to spill out in the open like cream pouring into coffee.
you never tell me about the foreign chapped lips against your skin, but i remember they made you feel what i couldn't give you.
you cut my heart out with a butter knife because your tongue isn't as sharp as you would like it to be. you place it on a silver platter and say bon appetit!
i hope for you my darling, my heart tastes like asphalt and red wine, because that's what's fit for dying gods.
have you ever been in a toxic relationship? did it ever make you feel like all relationships were going to be the same? because it’s the worst feeling in the world.
you called me persephone for the first time when your tongue made a home between my lips and thighs
you told me i’d stay; chained to the hell you called your feelings until my legs snapped in half and my arms wrapped around you for support. but you never mentioned if you’d catch me.
you told me i was meant to love you
and i was never supposed to walk away
you told me the ruins we called our bed, were to never be escaped.
you called me persephone for the last time
when i grabbed my phone and walked out the door and into my mama’s car
you said persephone and hades would be forever
but oh, my hades, i no longer want to live life in darkness
i don’t want to taste the charcoal in my throat and choke
you no longer have control over me, my hades.
i’m ready to be set free.
this was written in a very sensitive time in my life where i was finally letting go of someone who hurt me so bad and left that part of my life behind. hope you enjoy and let me know what you think!
i wish i was normal.
i wish the chemical imbalance in my brain didn't control every move and thought that i make. it seems as if my disorders are written across my forehead and my colored hair is a sign of my illness. but last time i checked, i thought if i dyed my hair, the chemicals in the dye would seep into my brain and give me a spare of serotonin.
i mean, it works. for a few days at least. then i'm back wishing i was dead and praying for a solution. i never ******* pray unless it's for my own benefit. i should probably find my peace because i thought i had it.
i told myself i wasn't going to write this because i didn't want anyone thinking i'm a lost cause. but maybe i am. maybe there is no hope for me. i'm happy, genuinely happy, don't get me wrong, but i'm numb too. undeniably numb.
i don't care about what people say, i don't care about their feelings. i don't care.
i may be a water sign
i feel like fire.
this is also another very personal one. let me know what you think!
i licked my lips and sat there while the pastor preached the word of god, but i was too busy staring at the boy sitting next to me with his arms crossed. he was five years older than me, but i was a lifetime better than him. at least that’s what i think.
he had a pearly white smile and his heart on his sleeve, his irises didn’t look away as i caught him staring. he always liked to observe, and i happened to be the one who his eyes loved to prey upon.
his name was like toxins, decaying on my tongue, but i loved saying it anyway. he listened to dubstep and said that was his favorite kind of music while i loved the head banging rock music. we were so different but that meant our love was one of a kind.
but he felt like splinters in my fingers; the ones you ripped off harshly and watched the blood prickle up while you felt the sting. call me a *******, but i loved every second of it.
eyes are windows to the soul, and if i ever saw his eyes again
i would rip them out of their sockets and keep them as my own.
this is about my first ever boyfriend who i still care about deeply. you never forget your first love.
my tongue was red from the jolly ranchers
and my lips were glossed with tangerine *****
we stripped down bare
and i could see your smile
when you saw me exposed
flashes and lipstick stains on
i cared for you
until i stopped caring for myself
the pictures are buried deep somewhere
in my room but your image is imprinted in my brain
remember when i said if the bottle landed on you, i was yours?
i’m still yours.
i can only imagine what it would be like to be in the hands of a god.
maybe the closest i'll ever get to heaven is when i'm standing next to you in front of a coffee shop and we're about to have an hour long conversation about the meanings of the world and what we plan to do with our lives. and if i'm being honest with you, (i'm never honest) i'm scared of the future. i'm scared of what happens next.
you said let the rest come easy, but easy for you to say, you have something going for you. you're the human embodiment of success, the embodiment of euphoric nature that i crave to feel.
i wonder what it's like to be touched by a god
can your finger tips graze my shoulders until they run down to my hips? can you touch me all over because i want to feel holy.
i've been feeling sick ever since i found out you exist.
i write about a certain boy who doesn’t know i exist, and that’s okay! maybe one day the universe will be kind. but till then, i’ll admire from afar.
i’m now breathing the air that you stole
and it fills and spills into my heaving lungs
baby, why does your love hurt so bad?
you said everything that’s beautiful comes with pain, and darling, you’re a true masterpiece. i should’ve known.
i’m swallowing the lump in my throat
while you’re swallowing pills one by one
we’re not the same anymore, my love
you’re far too broken
and i am healed.
“please kiss me until i can’t breathe!”
“show me the afterlife
show me the forbidden fruits that eve tasted
show me the eagerness and the aching pain that you feel in your chest
hold me for eternity throughout this lifetime
we can forget about heartbeats
because they’re so painful to feel
we’re just taking breaths to stay
we can count stars instead
you can taste the stardust on my tongue if you’d like
we can go to mars and slow dance until our feet are nothing but ash
can we be in love until there’s nothing left?
let’s lose everything there is to have!”
“please kiss me until there’s only an us.”
she pulls out her marlboro pack cigarettes and takes the slender cancer stick out and puts it between her lips
sparking the lighter, she throws her head back and wonders what all went wrong with her and her hades.
the bitter nicotine was filling up the emptiness he left inside of her hollow chest when he ripped out her heart and crushed it into a liquid crimson mess
she couldn’t pinpoint where things went wrong, but she knew things went downhill a long time ago. if she focuses, she can still
hear the rolling of his suitcase when he left her in that **** motel at 4am.
4am. it’s always 4am. and now she’s trying to **** some air into her heaving lungs when the clock hits 4’o’clock because all she sees is his silhouette.
yank on my spinal cord before you rip it out of my bare back. before you get my ***** crimson blood on your hands and you have to wash and bleach your dna off the crime scene.
it feels as if i'm paralyzed from the waist down because all i ever ******* do is lay around, and if i move, it aches. everything aches.
i'm begging for you to swap some bones with me because i'm tired of this soreness on my hips and thighs. please tell me you're listening.
nobody ever ******* listens to me. am i on mute? does someone have the remote controller that is connected to my mouth and has it on the lowest volume? how do i get it back and turn it up?
the static in my ears is far too loud, i bet if you said something right now, i wouldn't hear a thing. wait— did you say something?
i'm in love with a boy whom i've decided to call apollo because ****, he's a modern tragedy. he's enchanting and extraordinary, i'm nothing compared to this god in human skin.
i'm nothing but delusional intoxication and hair dye, but i guess if there was something good about me, it would have to be that i love unconditionally.
his noceur soul leaves me wondering if he’s ever tired of the same **** thing. the endless sleepless nights, the fireball going down his throat as he inhales nicotine. i’m waiting through his phases, but the paroxysm in my heart and soul is overbearing.
i could write a thousand poems about how your eyes look like galaxies and i’m simply born a stargazer or how your smile makes my tongue taste stardust
i’ll paint a picture of how you turn a hurricane mess like myself into something so sweet. a beautiful rainbow. and i’ll paint a picture of how you make my hands tremble and how you make a lump in my throat every time you speak.
you pull the trigger just for fun
forgetting i’m a loaded gun.
i’m literally fuming and filled to the brim with anger but i’m NOT going to let it destroy me.
we lit the flower petals on
fire because we wanted to destroy something beautiful
i didn't know i was beautiful
until you destroyed me.
“i’ll burn your name into my throat
and i’ll be the fire that’ll catch you”
people told me it’s good to pick up the pieces and put them back together as a whole
but what if i don’t even want to?
he had a moon tattooed on his arm because he loved the night
he told me i reminded him of the sun and he was ready to burn
but i don’t think he meant it because when my flames ignited, he was the first to run
or maybe those ashes on the floor were his.
i stopped my habit of stealing flowers from graveyards when i found out you were giving them to someone else.
i really am struggling with my writing and inspiration. please give me ideas of what to write about. it can be anything.
there was salvation in his smile.
an undeniable warm feeling
that would trickle in your crimson veins
like cold tears on radiant burning cheeks.
he looked like one of those crafty handcrafted
statues in those expensive-looking art museums. you can’t help but admire him and his scenery. god could return on earth in a
mortal body, but all i will see is my apollo.
golden honey hair and fresh water hazel eyes— eyes that could bring you to your knees in one simple glare
sun kissed bronze skin with rose and sword tattoos, my oh my, he’s blessed with michelangelo’s paintbrush! he’s a painting on god’s favorite art wall!
all i see is him.
all i see is art.
we loved each other so violently and relentlessly
we danced with each other’s demons
and kissed each other’s scars
we were so utterly consumed by each other
that we both forgot we were in hell.
he was warm and his torso was wrapped with moonlight cologne, sweat & ink. he’s a filthy boy who loves being bruised up by innocent girls who don’t know any better, my hands are on his chest and my lips are touching his neck.
2. he was older. wiser. he made me forget who i was and i no longer knew myself because of him. but i loved him. so i got used to it.
3. i guess you can say he taught me how to make all of the pretty boys cry in euphoria and cry tears of neediness.
4. he had fingers that felt like acid, but also felt like a god putting me back together again after breaking me. his words cut me like a blade, but he kissed my wounds.
5. he didn’t love me, but i loved him. he claimed to, but i knew better. he was older. wiser. rougher. i was too soft for this man, but i got used to it.
i’ve been writing a lot of poetry in this kind of way (numbered) so you’ll probably be seeing a lot of poems in this format.
they were both broken.
but the only difference was
that he took his anger out in music and alcohol
and she took it out in poetry and blades
two broken hearts
and two hurt souls
can’t make a whole
but oh, they tried.
they really did.
it’s crazy how two years ago, we were calling every night just to see if we could see each other because we genuinely missed each other’s presence.
now we only call because we’re alone and filled with lust.
baby, come get drunk off my sins.
i’ll whisper your holy name with words
from the bible in french and kiss your scars
before letting you ******* honey mixed with poison.
red laced button up shirts and long shoulder length golden honey hair
he was carefully handcrafted, and i knew god took his time on this sunkissed angel. i just hope he had me in mind when he made the sun angel’s soulmate.
sun baby can play the harp with my ribcage and it’ll still sound heavenly because anything he touches will never turn to stone; they’ll simply be crystalline.
i wish to be as enchanting as my sun angel, but he doesn’t have any beauty to spare, he’s very greedy. he likes to absorb all the light from the sun, and keep it for himself. baby, i may like the dark but i like you even more.
i feel like i have summer’s guilt chilling my bones, and i can see him in the rear view mirror with his brightly beaming aura
so hold your breath, we’ll be just fine.
they say eyes are windows to our souls
so why hasn't anyone seen the beauty within mine?
he smelt like cologne and regret
but tasted like cherries and cream
every time we kissed, i had a new memory
our first kiss.
eager lips and touching before he got me into bed, and took what was mine. i woke up with aching between my thighs as he told me he loved me while i laid there wrapped in silk.
our third kiss.
it was in a tour bus. everyone was loud, but i could still hear my heartbeat. his breath was shaky and i felt it on my lips before he pressed his on them. his brothers and friends cheered us on.
our eighth kiss.
this is where things got tricky. we didn’t kiss to love anymore, we kissed for lust. he stopped kissing me as an act of care and affection, but started as a way to make me beg for his touch. he knew how to get me eager and ready for him, and he took advantage.
our last kiss.
it was rainy, and i was sobbing as he screamed things that were aching my heart. he was walking out the door when i grabbed him and gave him a final kiss. that’s when i tasted the cigarette ash and liquor. something that tasted bitter.
he no longer tastes
like cherries and cream.
me looking back at my past with my past lover, hoping this could help me get over him. if you’re going through a rough time with a lover or even a friend, just know you’re not alone! and i’m here if you need to talk!
i’m slow dancing in a burning room
and my faults are on full display
as the smoke fills my tar black lungs
the song is getting louder and it feels
as if i’m entangled with the ghost of who i used to be
these may nights are lonelier
than they once were
it’s as if they’re telling me
“here’s the knife!”
before jabbing it in my insides
where they know it hurts the most
i look for my soul
but i don’t know where it’s gone
where did i bury it?
can somebody tell me?
— i hid my feelings so well
that i forgot where i buried them.
cut me with the petals of your favorite flower
let your fingers glide gently on my skin and carve the letters of your name into my flesh
drench me in your favorite perfume so it becomes my permanent scent
the one you adore and look forward to when you see me
there's blood staining my teeth and gums
i wipe it off and it stains my chin
but you still think i'm beautiful
so cut me with the flower petals
and drench me in your favorite perfume
while you wash the blood out of mouth
and carve your name into my flesh
because i finally want to be the one you adore.
if you understand the meaning behind this than props to you! because everyone i read this to, didn’t understand haha
he was always a moment too big for me, everyone knew that. he was magnetic and electric, and my heart and entire being couldn't contain such a man as magnificent as him.
he was always torn with choosing me and his dreams, but i guess he finally had enough and decided to burn the bridge that connected us to each other.
sometimes i still find the ashes of the bridge's remains on my shoes and clothes from when i tried to get to him. i'm just speaking in metaphors, but no matter how many of them i use, they will never show you how miserable i truly am.
remington leith is and will always
be the bittersweet death of me.
yes, that’s his name. the man who broke my heart. but anyway, hope you enjoyed.