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jude rigor Sep 2017
disembodied:
flowers with thorns
sensitive skin
i don't cut myself
these are from
holding everything

do i even exist?
i hope not
my forehead is cold
i'm shaking
car window down
the sun looks so pretty
as it rises
traffic, drifting,
i think i'm falling
asleep

at the wheel
my doctor is rl cunty about having ADD and didn't care that i have a huge *** cyst in my ovaries and told me i've over reacting about chronic pain p much so yeah **** her
jude rigor Sep 2017
my heart itches
hates wanderlust
and fake poetry

picked at fingers
fight among themselves
****** and tired
under the table

i don't know if i was born
with a self destruct option
or if it just appeared in
the right moment
and knew i needed
something

****, i'm not atlas
i'm not metaphor:
my shoulders
hurt

let me sleep
this 'not everyone has ____ susan' tiny series makes me giggle when i write the title
jude rigor Jul 2017
today exists
in movie stills
i have only
ever been
a ghost
in my
own
skin
jude rigor Jul 2017
crawl into bed
coffee stained sheets
i don't **** strangers
i don't bring tea to bed
not anymore
don't bring myself to bed
can't sleep in bed
jude rigor Mar 2014
dusting stars across
a galaxy
that never wanted
you in the first place.





**(c) 2014 jude rigor
jude rigor Feb 2022
maybe i should visit you
in that frozen wasteland
where you've waited
all these years for
warmth and spring.

or maybe i should visit
our garden of flowers.
alone i'd lay down  
on the grass,
ignoring the flowers
that beckon brightly,
desperate to be
remembered.

i'd close my eyes to
feel the soft whispers
of wind on my cheek;
words winding their way
in-between the twisting
air to replicate what
you gently spoke
lying on the
gentle earth,
both eons and
mintues
ago.

      how are you doing?
      just maybe, could you stay?
      could you be my companion?

      can we stay here for life?
      or at least until
      tomorrow?


the steady calm of night would surely
coat the ground with its coolness.
but i am fast asleep. brought
under to only wonder
when it was
i lost my winter
coat.
this is an amalgamation of responses to poems that my ex-girlfriend had written me. i recently found out that she died and have been writing about it and reading everything she ever wrote me and honestly crying a lot but this poem is pretty presonal. it references verses she wrote me many years ago so if it seems disjointed or lacking context that's probably why.
jude rigor Sep 2017
earth tone
trepidation:
we open the
hood to find
only dirt
and molting
feathers.

our wine
speak lazy
tongue
love decl-
aration rolls
into Morning
(MOURNING)
After silent
closing
gaze.

disconn-
ect your staaa
tic eyes and
restaaa
rt the engine
before the
crows can
voodoo speak
their way back
up.
oldie
jude rigor Feb 2020
i. Prodigal daughter


I flew out my mother as a prophecy.
An oracle, a sinner; girl in the wrong
place at the right time. Not who I was
supposed to be. Scripture on my arms,
coating the back of my throat, words
I’ve never wanted to read.

I crawled out my mother’s womb
with a ****** cough:
Grandmother’s handkerchief.
Some letters.
No name. Not mine.

I carried myself out my mother’s soul,
hands stained red with prayer,
legacy shattering a baby’s spine,
bearing the sin of
prophecy.

She’s always told me,
You never cried.

ii. Menace


I bury my teeth in the backyard
to stop myself from biting back.
I have a few left up in
sore bleeding gums,
burning softly
and waiting
for the day
I will speak.

A demon somewhere in
the dirt runs its fingers
down my forearm.
There are bones
molting along
with feathers. I am
buying bigger
band aids these
days: they wrap
around my arms
as vines left in
the sun to rot.

Crows
wait on my windowsill
to make sure I am okay.

But I am a burning woman
settled in the wallpaper. I’m
sure my eyes are yellow again:
I cry as she paints, sealing my
body up in the floral silhouette.
This house is as haunted
                                         as me.

The demon has an alibi.
Liar, it spats.


iii. Flight of the wolves  

Moon takes me by the hand. Some
ancient light. Howls in the distance.
I dance through the edge of forest
wishing they would utter my name.

Moon calls out this time, urging me
to step closer. I prowl out to
the real world, greeted by snarls.
I bite at the air, our feral eyes
sliding into one another's.
Before I can
escape we are already
running.

The moon watches us:
In all our inhuman
humanity. we rush
through leaves and
spoiled mud, running
against ourselves
and bleeding stars.

fading as nothing
but hungry dogs
into the night.

Here, they whisper. Eat.


i.v. By the fireplace

I have never wanted touch
like this. They gather me
into their arms, one by one.
Something mysterious lingers
in the air, like an old cup of
tea. I feel as if I have swallowed
someone else’s sun, whole. I
do not let myself think of
prophecies. I cannot let
my spine feel it,
either. I want them
to stay.  

Fire has his hand in my mouth.
But I refuse to scream. Months
gather on, and I assimilate to
the fire and embrace. I’m
mumbling of prophecy
in my sleep. Bones
tremble as they realize
we’ll never know
what’s coming
next.

The future leads me to
a lavender loveseat
for just me alone.

Fire takes his hand
from my mouth
briefly, with pity
and permission
to breathe. They
wander, picking
dust and dirt from
my hair.

Oxygen tickles the
roof of my mouth,
and I realize the
settled words have
faded away. I am
warm now, despite
my barefoot stance
in the dirt.

I’m sorry, Fire mumbles. I had just hoped to help.


v. Town fair memory

They find me by the craft table
breathing in an elixir of sunset.
Shadows tiptoe around my adolescence.
Maybe they are all my first loves.
Is this a family? I’m not entirely
sure if they’ll stick around once
they find I am drenched in
divination and sweat.

Three ghosts drift across the market
and I make some sales. I wondered
what a ghost would do with coffee,
if taste and touch were really
connected.

Hours live on, and fireflies
beat against paper cups
and strong-willed
children.

l on the cooling blacktop
with my friends. The sky is pink
but not as warm as us, and we can see
the stars from here:
I have no
intention on
waking up from today.

Scars morph into smaller divets, like
scratches of clairvoyance against
ancient
oracle bones.

They drive me to an artist in a
city cottage. It’s okay, I am reassured.
She will not hurt you here.
Leaves run down the walls.
Water speaks in some foreign tongue.
I feel oddly safe. We cover up my
prophecy, which was never real to begin with.
Prophecies are a sin, of course. And though
we have transformed from monster to human
and back again
I might be the biggest sinner of them all.

A distasteful monster
hellbent on some
halfway
lack of legacy
to pass on for
generations.

I did cry, I tell myself. But I think we will be okay.
Girl, the demon whispers;
Child, the moon sighs;
Live! They cry.

And Fire says
nothing
from
his place
between our
hearts.
jude rigor Feb 2020
you breathe in tender dragon smoke–
under the sheets; I’m made of alchemy.
some summer second skin clothes.

drinking me in a 200 milligram dose,
a sweet taste in my mouth that forms a cavity
as you breathe in tender, dragon smoke.

jokingly, you laugh and it rolls into “I’m off the coke.”
it hurts, but I guess that now it’s your mortality.  
some summer. second skin clothes

that remind me I’m in bed and alone.
forget it all, radical acceptance, comfort insecurity.
you breathe. in tender dragon smoke.

you tell me that you think I’ve grown.
I smile secretly, my blood is gold. is reality –
some summer, second skin clothes?

feels closer, even though we’re on the phone.
to you I hope this is a keychain of me,
some summer second skin clothes.
you breathe in a tender dragon smoke.
jude rigor Sep 2017
you are sleeping in a world i can't see:
there are
clouds
holding hands
over my head
and i only ever
dream of you or
nothing

study in a city
smog in my teeth
stale mint air...
...but you're always
in this forest
i keep in my chest -
silence and kissing
there's something
strange and soft
and
missing

dumb hopeful
lonely girl in the mirror
it won't stop
raining

it won't stop
wow i miss him and i'm okay but that doesn't mean i can't miss him
jude rigor Aug 2017
i. prodigal daughter

****** cough
great grandmother's
             hankerchief
   letters, no name,
      not mine
  
                              i ruin a lot
                              you can't see
                         red hands together
                            prayer. maybe.
                                   not me.

ii. menace

burning woman
settle in the wallpaper
your eyes are yellow
again: i cry while
you paint over me -
        this house is as haunted as me.

iii. flight of the wolves

her eyes
    slide into mine
until eventually
                 the moon takes me by
                            the hand
                 we are running
                  against ourselves
                  and bleeding stars
                               fading as nothing
                               but hungry dogs
                               into the night

iv. ancient light

you have never
wanted touch
like this  
                   a mysterious something
                   is in the air
                   someone else's sun
                   swallowed whole

      fire has his hand in my mouth
                   i am screaming.

v. town fair memory

my lover in a dream
finds me by the craft table
it's sun down
             tiptoes around  my adolescence
                  he knows he is not my love.  

i lay on the trembling blacktop
with my friends. the sky is pink
but not as warm as us, we can see
stars from here: we're not waking up
                 from today

                    his name
                        still
                    eludes me
i used some nice prompts for this
jude rigor Jul 2020
i had these dreams for a while
after that night.

you said my eyes were pretty
while we laid in bed
just staring
sharing
secrets
under my
softest blanket.

you whisper
an insecurity
and i tell you
that i have
three
toothbrushes
and somehow
slowly
we're
kissing.

we pause
to keep
looking
at each
other's
eyes.

"you're so beautiful"

i'm not
used to
feeling so
special -
we're naked
but suddenly
i'm so very shy.

you leave in the
morning and i
drift away to
you in my
mind.

the next night
i dreamed we
were holding
each other. your
form eventually
begun to twist
and turn beside
me. you morphed
into trauma and
shadows, black
shades running
up my arms
and i can't
breathe
icantbreathe
icantbreathe
i
can't
breathe.

when i wake up
my chest hurts
i curse my brain
and i miss
you.

it went on like that
for a few weeks.

looking back,
i guess this is
healing.
this is super rough, didn't proof read it a ton but i want to post it
jude rigor Dec 2017
summer quietly creaks open the back door
slips from beneath your skin records shattering
as you stare down from the attic, questioning
everything. it's gone before you can remember
what warmth even is
sadness warps
an old yellow novel you used to love
holding it close as it twists and moans
rip the best chapter out because
it belongs to you
a bunch of feels in my heart u feel me
jude rigor Feb 2020
summer quietly creaks open the back door
slips from beneath your skin
records shattering
as you stare down from the
attic, living in
slow motion.
it's gone before you can
remember what warmth even is.
sadness warps an old yellow novel
you used to love, holding it close
as it twists and moans.
  now,
  rip the
  best chapter out
  because
  it belongs to
  you.
revision of old poem
jude rigor Feb 2022
my bedsheets won't stop
strangling me
each night,
twisting around my
legs and arms and neck
until i cough myself
awake.

i'm breathing blood
once i'm finally up.
it's 5am and i think
i've been dying in my
sleep.

i turn the fan on
and the heat up
praying i can
fling my sheets
to the floor while
i fight with slumber,
waving it like a white
flag in the
dark.
jude rigor Feb 2020
in an ancient forest                      a chalice somewhere raises
dirt ridden murmurs                   in a temple of fire
caress the roots of                        beeswax begging
the trees                                         for raw sin
no one kneels                                at the foot
where there is flame                    in the palm
seal the sarcophagus                   we break bread
into the immortal night              binding books
we meditate                                 in holy dreams
for medicine                                we won’t need
honey burns                                us dogs of hell
gentle call                                    in the light.
something from my poetry class
jude rigor Jan 2018
temptation:
pretty boy with his
hands around my
throat, if evil is an
******
color me in
blood
and name me
'angel' or 'sweet
heart'

i'll respond to all three
pretty boy takes his
atlas hands to wrap
me in a hug just as
i start to scream
for more.

angel sweet heart
don't touch me again
only pretty boy can
see me here

temptation:
i'm bathing in it.
uh well. it is what it is. i'm in an awful mood and really overwhelmed. i'm sick of this ******* crazy cult-like people telling me they can cure my mental illness with prayer, i'm so tired of my mom telling me i'm going to hell, i'm barely living. i'm looking into inpatient programs for bpd and seeing what my insurance covers but yeah if i disappear for a week or two it's bc i need to work myself out and get better and hopefully that happens soon.
jude rigor Mar 2022
i used to lay on the snowed-in flowerbeds
of nan's backyard. once it snowed enough,
you couldn't tell that a ****** of perrenials
slept peacefully there: all crushed
and crooked beneath
dirt and ice.

some days she'd come and join me
if the ground was soft enough:
we'd stargaze up into the cosmos
of pine trees overhead and listen
for the stillness of winter - the hush
of silence that lingered in the air.

ivy and henbit writhed
gingerly underfoot:
a quiet dogfight
of frozen earth
that begged a
sluggish spring
to come out of
hiding.
i wrote this an hour or two ago for a contest on allpoetry! the prompt was a video covering the spring snow storm that occurred in the northeast recently. it had to be less than 100 words and i'm pretty proud of it. cheers. (if you're interested, my username on there is @opheliaswam).
jude rigor Jul 2017
you are as soft as sunlight
as yellow as summer night:
hold onto this freedom.
jude rigor Oct 2017
let me touch our souls together once more:
comforting insecure heart breaker pocket lover,
be mine - i show up to class but i'm
still in your bed there's
no time for sleep
only dreams of
pink hands and red tea
unconditional
keychain
of
me.
i loathe rhyming poetry so much but still wrote this so??
jude rigor Jul 2017
laser surgery
private browsers
endless self doubt
regret
hurt
betrayal
facebook memories i don't remember
empty coffee mugs
heartache
pushing too far
a tea collection
goodwill dresses
inherited jewelry
a stranger's home
mismatched socks
silent heartbreak
drugs
no drugs
secret thoughts
of nothing
jude rigor May 2022
softer kind of tea;
flower beds roll
over scars in the road.
winter is my home but
i'm always so
cold.

the weight of
my own thoughts...

...all i feel is everything:
self-sabotage is
art.

there are no main characters.
so i exist out in the misty blanket
that lingers after midsummer storms:
stuck in that apathetic draft
that betrays humidity and
its ethos.

chasing an ego in the snow:
appalachia turns it all to ice
and watches me scramble
to an unsteady stance.

i've never caught frostbite,
though i reckon she was
trying.
jude rigor Apr 18
i’m just like my father

  attraction
compels &
   rip s   me   a
  part

destroyed by
what made me
into him

you call me a
self fulfilling prophecy

i read your cards
after telling you to close
your eyes: shy divination
trembles and wrestles itself
into the dirt as
i collect each one

my intuition or
my ego    (maybe both)
rush beneath stretched skin,
an ache that unfurls into
the division between each  
of my fingers, breathing with
the tension of a starved mutt:  
                                         i whine
   at the bottom of
      your front door
                       step:

                                  i mirror you do
                                           not let me
                                         in
jude rigor Jul 2017
****
suicide note
written to my
**** blog,
**** if i'm
not free,
i don't have
wet dreams
in the snow
anymore, i'm
a summer girl,
i'm dead and alive,
i sleep with the
cryptic ghosts
of my own
sadness.
jude rigor Sep 2017
mountain patio
laughing tremble gut feel-
ing, we're dancing and
you hold onto my hand
familiar scent of pine
cigar smoke in our eyes
men don't scare me here
smiling at you
music, forever
echos through
the forest
and this
short breath slows
secrets scribbled on napkins
in a fancy bathroom...
... whisper and hot mouth-
our friendship
is yellow and
soft
i'll always love the beatles.

night so dark i'm scared it
might end
   gold light in your hair
driving home to
a lake of obsidian and fire
        rose quartz flowering from our backs
              i miss you
          we dive into a painting of the sky
                 water is warmer
i once had a really good summer before i used to get super manic and empty in summer and yeah we went to this post celebration for a golf tournament they host every year in memory of my deceased uncle, they have a band that does beatle covers and it's in between mountains and there's old people smoking cigars and for some reason i'm never afraid to dance there
jude rigor Jul 2017
goodbyes and lost feelings
mix together. summer makes
fools of us all, but all i wanted
was for you to hold me. take me
by the hand.

i'll love you eternally, i guess.
my teeth grind together
in my sleep. bleeding gums
drag me by the heart to my
therapist's door and stare
until i let myself in.
jude rigor Jul 2017
my lover comes from a town where
every image triggers the memory
of a memory : everything is new and
overgrown, even the trees. but it feels
as if he has been here forever.

the sky floats in my rearview
as a reflection against an old,
white dodge neon, sun settling
into the hollow hole in my
stomach
like
melted peach frozen yogurt.

last bit of sunlight sleeping somewhere
in my skin, i put my brights on halfway
down the highway, smiling into the
shadow of today (the shadow of him),
i can't help but love the way
his eyes smile before i
leave.

i roll my windows
all the way down
so it will feel like
i am flying
all over.

stop light red moon
i follow
where the sun sits
home into the
night

slow driving
i have time to think
take pictures of tree
-lines so i won't
disappear

our words trail across
the sky as airplane exhaust
fade before i blink
i still feel them
in my skin

i feel him waiting in
every forest
every second
every foot more of pavement
until i am home

and he is smiling as i drive away
**** any god, i pray he follows
im gay
jude rigor Feb 2014
he rolls in
mint leaves
and cigarette
smoke,

standing up
to waltz out
the back
door

and out to
the moonlit
streets of
our urban
nightmare

before i have
a chance to
whisper, i miss
you -
          don't leave
.





**(c) 2014 jude rigor
jude rigor Jul 2017
your tongue
was all over
me
when i realized
i didn't want to
**** my friend:
but i'd never felt
your skin on mine
so closely, i felt
braindead, you
had been my
romantic interest
for two weeks
already
and there we were
******* in your bed,
so i asked you to
be with me
while i came
between small
breaths and moans
and you said yes

and then we
****** some
more, fell in
love a little  
more,
and i'd
never been
more thankful
of speaking.
storytime ****, always **** on the second date y'all, you'll get a long term relationship outta it maybe
jude rigor Feb 2022
sappho greets her as she
would a reflection:
hand against hand, staring into
her eyes. silence dancing
around them as a long-lost love-
r.

enheduanna sighs at the contact
and the quiet shifts as
her fingers close:
as there is no need for language
when her
inanna will grant them
a holy diadem.

-----

eternity reeks
of nights out on the lawn
daisies growing with the weeds
pillowing beneath the two
dwindling women -
hands clasped tightly,
their eyes closed.
...lapis blooming
within the petals
of the undergrowth...

gods slumber amongst
worthy poets occluding,
heart-soothing each
other without words
or sonnets
or divination.

sappho dared to
look out from
heavy-lidded
lethargy,
for she was
yearning:
at dawn

...her honeyvoiced,
    mythweaving
    enheduanna:
    a sweet-shelter
    of temptation
    and goddesses
    who wage
    tender war and
    drink from pools
    of sun...

at dawn
the ancient
divine
poet
gazes
again

and sappho
forgets she
too is nearly
as old

for her lover wears
an invisible golden-
crowned circlet
of springtime
and illuminated
lands.

but she can hardly think
anymore, when
the songsmith of
glory and prayer
is kissing her.

laying in the basin
of heaven and skies
she pours restless
eternity down
her throat.


----

lapis melts
to pink clovers
of fowlerite

no mortals notice

two bodies blending
between poems
rustling tunics
maidens casting
away their  
fruitful

sobriety.

----

poet
dreams
a woman
of verse.

hardly expecting
shallow-breathed
kisses of burning
solstice and
unrequited
love.
for this piece,  i wrote about sappho and enheduanna. both ancient poets, both incredible women who achieved a lot with their poems and lyrics. i allude to some phrases/words from sappho's fragments, as well as verses from enheduanna's poems.

i also referenced quite a few letters from open me carefully, a collection of emily dickinson's letters (what remains of them) to susan huntington, her close friend and eventual sister-in-law. the references are honestly vague and you might only catch them if you've read at least the first chapter of the collection.

also the title is a fragment from sappho, featured in "if not, winter"

here's some info on all of that for some much-needed context.

sappho: (l. c. 620-570 BCE) was a lyric poet whose work was so popular in ancient that she was honored in statuary and centuries after her. little remains of her work, and these fragments suggest she was gay. her name inspired the terms 'sapphic' and 'lesbian', both referencing female same-*** relationships.  

[some phrases/words from this piece were taken/inspired by "if not, winter" - a collection of fragments of sappho's lyrics and poems].

bio source: wordhistory . org

enheduanna: (pronounced en-hoo-d-ah-na)  was an akkadian-sumerian princess, poet, and priestess who lived around 2285 BCE. not only was she the first author on record - she was also daughter to king sargon of the akkadian empire, a powerful woman figure, and the backbone to a synthesization of two newly unified cultures.

she is acknowledged to have penned the first known example of poetry, and wrote 42 hymns that were read across the akkadian empire. additionally, she was the first named poet to refer to herself with the "i" perspective. through her writings, she combined the akkadian counterpart (ishtar) of the sumerian inanna into a single goddess that brought akkadians and sumerians alike together. though this first served as a culturally-conscious and politically driven move, it morphed beautifully into enheduanna's lifelong relationship with inanna.

enheduanna's success and works as the high priestess at the temple ur helped bridge a gap between self-discovery and religion. many of her hymns and poems - especially "the exaltation of inanna" gave a human connection to gods; something far more powerful in the long run, compared to the old ways of gods growing the land, mixing the sea.

[i ripped all this out of a research paper i wrote a few years ago. enheduanna is my niche special interest and i find her life and story so utterly fascinating].

open me carefully: emily dickinson's intimate letters to susan huntington dickinson

susan huntington gilbert and emily elizabeth dickinson were born within days of each other in December 1830. they may have known each other from girlhood; they certainly knew each other from adolescence; and they had begun to correspond by the age of twenty. their relationship spanned nearly four decades, and for three of those decades, the women were next-door neighbors. together, susan and emily lived through the vicissitudes of a life closely shared: susan's courtship, engagement, and eventual marriage to emily's brother, austin; susan and austin's setting up home next door to the dickinson homestead; the births of susan and austin's three children, and the tragic death of their youngest son, gib.

in open me carefully, we see that emily was not the fragile, childlike, virginal "bride who would never be" writing precious messages about flowers, birds, and cemeteries from the safety and seclusion of her bedroom perch in amherst, massachusetts. dickinson was devoted to her craft, and she was dedicated to integrating poetry into every aspect of her day-to-day life. she was engaged in philosophical and spiritual issues as well as all the complexities of family life and human relationships. she knew love, rejection, forgiveness, jealousy, despair, and electric passion, and she lived for years knowing the intense joy and frustration of having a beloved simultaneously nearby, yet not fully within reach.

Emily Dickinson Archive

NY Times Archive
jude rigor Sep 2017
marina tsvetaeva's "poem of the end"
clear umbrellas
soft and cold rain
mountain smoke
old photographs
books i want to read
dandelions
gas money
voices
dreaming in foreign languages
timelines
hanging ferns
natural light
"to emily dickinson" by hart crane
almond milk
apologies
poem or list? don't really know. when it rains i tend to dissociate more. can't write for **** when i'm like this.
jude rigor Feb 2014
atlas, you man
of a monster:
why have you
laid my mother
out on her back,
across the earth?

i swear to you,
fail to keep her
heartbeat trembling
and i will shake the
universe from your
shoulders.

no more smoking
breaks in the
lavatory.

you're made
of stone anyways.





**(c) jude rigor 2014
scraps from band class.
jude rigor Feb 2014
.

    i'm watching
    the universe,
    fog creeping
    up the glass

  i press my face so
far into the wall
that it cracks

              stretching its
      limbs freckle
                   to freckle,
        branching
                   across celestial
          skies:

                                  and suddenly
                                        i can breathe.





                                    **(c) jude rigor 2014
jude rigor Aug 2017
show me you love me
in a dream you can't
control, we collect crystals
and give each other tarot
readings - but i always
wonder what you are thinking,
laid out between judgement
and queens in my pink floral
bedsheets. not real, i'm
seeing it all the same.
this is one of my favorite cards, i get this a lot when i do readings for myself.
jude rigor Feb 2022
you're
crushing up overwhelming silence
and mixing it into my drink. your
voice slurs: baby, drink this.

your hands envelop mine
pushing elixir into my blood.
when i wake next week
you are beside me, naked
and hibernating despite
summer's grip on
your throat.

i remember
the softness of
hands

the lull of your touch
a slow conviction mixed with
twisted hope
sloshing around together; twisting
to form alchemy and promise and
spoilt wine.

there is no
magic in
waiting.
this is the only title i can think of but i feel like it's a no go still: "that summer you made me drink xanax in a baja blast"
jude rigor Aug 2017
you're leaving
again, and i can't
process anything
right now, can't
even write good
poetry right now:

you sleep in a silent world
of therapy and speak clearly
into the phone to let me know
you still love me and you promise
this time to change

i'm scared to trust you
baby i'm not perfect
you can't hold me from
rehab and i don't know
if i should trust you again

i'm already so lonely
please change
my boyfriend is going to rehab again and im glad hes getting help but it hurts inm so lonely and i need him but he doesnt need me
jude rigor Jul 2020
being with you is such a pleasant feeling
i'm scared to write poems about us
you're so precious
i don't want to
romanticize
you
might make this into another poem
jude rigor Sep 2017
overshare
sad *****
pretty in
profiles
ignore
everyone
you feel
empty
no one else
can feel
fire on skin
post about
it online
though
HA MY MOOD SWINGS ARE BAD LATELY i miss my love he needs to come home im going even crazier. i'm listening to the song 'kyoto' by yung lean on repeat and it's a Big Mood
jude rigor Jul 2017
I AM NOT FLEETING EMOTION.
I AM NOT YOUR ******* BACK UP PLAN.

GO FIND YOUR OWN SHADOW,
FIND YOUR OWN SOLO CUP.
'east coast hiding' by dounia is my mood rn
jude rigor Aug 2017
i'm laying empty in your eyes
baby please make me smile
into the phone one more time before
i slip up again and you can't catch me

iloveyou
yourtouchmakesmefeelalive
imsorryiamdissociatingrightnow
butinee­dyoudontleaveme
pleaseholdmeuntilifeelbetter

dollar store tape
piece me to what
looks like me

**** me into the
honeymoon matress
we used too early
please i want to
feel

you don't love me anyways

i'm sorry i'm always
so scared

— The End —