Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Jayce Jan 13
i sit in the confessional, the lattice throwing shadows that in the corners of my eyes become demons.

inhale, hold, exhale.

Forgive me not, for it was not me who sinned. But *** himself, who allowed the hands between my legs when my thighs were no more than centimeters apart, those who forced themselves to invade my space even as I cried and prayed for mercy. *** who allowed their sweat to fall on my face, mixing with my tears. *** who caught my breath in my throat until it was scratched raw inside my mouth as a bird in a cage.

It was *** who sinned when this happened not once or twice, but so much that my body became a shell and my mind a mallet with which to break. It was *** who stood by as I opened my veins and looked for an answer.

Forgive me not father, because you did not protect me, forgive me not, because it was you who did nothing.

Inhale, hold, exhale.

The lattice throws shadows across my lap and my legs have stopped trembling.

Forgive me not father, because you have pillaged me through them.
Jayce Jan 12
Dropped calls and now you have ten voicemails
Garbled cries of "please pick up" and "what did i do"

Self-medicating, intoxicating
Then I'm bleeding profusely and it covers my tattoo,
the same one that she got too

An angel comes
And cries for me, stopping me in my tracks
I tell her it wasn't a matter of what, but who

The angel and I are bonded
I can feel my heart release once again
Until I find myself self-medicating again

"We never needed you"

Pavement beneath me rising
To consume my tears and stain my feet
How did I get here? I was supposed to stop at the tracks

I thought she was an angel but when she turns her back
I can't find wings

"You're just a burden"

drowning, no calls dropped this time
no messages, no well wishes
I won't have anyone to save me next time
Jayce Jan 5
i've been harboring pain for years on end, served up dishes in various ways, having to mask the disgust I feel when it arrives in droves

people make food to try and heal your despair, and lately all they can seem to make is hurt and so my heart knows nothing but the taste of it

mouth full of anguish and blood and when it opens all that comes out is garbled pleas yet no one can hear

"how are you?" but if I told you you wouldn't know what to do, how to fix it, my suffering makes you uncomfortable and yet

if i died, what would you say?
Jayce Jan 5
i could nail the door shut,
          you'd only find a window

i could seal those windows,
        you'd only dig your way out

i could fill your hole with my tears,
      you'd push the roof out of place
      
my begging could stretch like webs across the ceiling
    and still you'd find some way to steal my heart and leave
Jayce Dec 2018
I make breakfast for my loneliness, unflinching as it sits down in it's chair, grunting at me. The pain throbs in my head and my body at the feel of it's presence, and suddenly I am not in my body.
I am thinking of times when I slept in twin beds with friends, sure that one of us would fall off in the night but waking up to our bodies entwined. I remember car rides with the windows down and the sound of radios blaring but our voices louder, singing along.
I yearn for times when friends and I would take pictures, freezing moments in time so that we'd never forget that moment, and how with technology, all I had to do was press a button for them to dissipate into nothing.
I am crying over the stove and I can hear my loneliness grinning and chuckling behind me, reminding me that the inside of this prison is where I will stay forever.
Jayce Nov 2018
He used to feed you a bowl full of glass promises. You’d smile at him cautiously and chew them carefully because seeing you pretend that you weren’t hurt made him happy. Later you’d walk into the bathroom and stare at the shards coating the cave of your mouth like paintings.

He used to hand you promises that would stain. It was worth it, to see his face light up as you pretended not to notice the growth covering your palms and fingers. You’d wipe your hands on your clothes. You stopped wearing anything light enough to hold the stain.

He used to fill your head with promises that lit your brain on fire. You’d tell him your head hurt and his smile would fly away. You’d stomach the pain because you didn’t think you had a choice. You let the flames consume the last of your sanity.

He used to be so careless with your heart you were sure you couldn’t use it again. But even the deepest wounds heal.
Jayce Nov 2018
she recounts her life with the lovers she's had,
reliving adoration as she counts them off on her fingers
she showcases their best qualities
I cannot upstage her
I recount my life with prescription bottles
plastic and pharmacies
the time I swallowed all I had because I wanted to be happy
while she recounts, I relapse
Next page