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ghost girl Mar 2013
The blood on my palms is ours
It is our blood smeared on these walls
Spilling over the thresholds
Staining the sheets.
They’ll take bleach to walls and the floors
Try to scrub us away almost as hard as I did
And the grit under their fingernails will look like mine
The copper smell of us will give way to ammonia
And years from now they’ll tell the story
Of the little girl gone mad
Taking an axe to her own heart
Just to numb the thunder pace
And that boy who found her
Took the pistol to silence the bedlam in his head
And ease the guilt in his chest.
ghost girl Dec 2018
guilt inches across
my skin like thousands
of little spider legs -
pour cement
down my throat
and let me choke.
it's all I deserve.
ghost girl Dec 2014
She is electric, frenetic energy
Dancing on broken glass,
She’s the current racing through oceans.
She’s about to overload your circuits,
And tomorrow you’ll thank her for it,
Begging on your knees for just
One more taste.
ghost girl Mar 2018
i don't know what words to write there are so many there aren't enough of them to talk about this tightness in my mind and the weight on my chest there's not enough words in this language to describe the way my entire being seems to twist and twist and twist until i can't tell where is up and what is down and i feel tight and i feel like i'm unraveling and i feel like there's no ground beneath me no sky above me like maybe i'm about to see that white light or maybe i'm gonna burn or maybe just fall into eternal nothingness and that almost seems preferable a nothingness where i don't think anymore i don't feel anything i cease to be i am not and that's fine there's too much air in my lungs but i still can't breathe
ghost girl Oct 2016
the way I love you-
kerosene to flame,
poison for disease.
ghost girl Nov 2018
there are days
I want to tell you
how you broke me
and there are days
I remember
you don't deserve
the satisfaction
ghost girl Mar 2015
I just
    want
            to go
                                              back.
ghost girl Oct 2016
carry me gently;
I am something of a
fragile little bird
and I trust the weight
of your hands
will not crush me.
ghost girl Nov 2018
burns, seared
into my flesh -
every mistake,
every wrong
turn, every lie,
everything
I have ever done.
can you see it?
feel the heat of it?
I live in  fear
of the day
you touch
my skin again
and read it on me
like braille.
ghost girl Jan 4
i could hate you
i could wish you the worst
(sometimes, i do)
i could summon karma nightly
on your behalf
i could remind you every day
of the ways you harmed me,
permanently altered me

but i'm tired, you know?
tired of the visceral memories of
this night or that night
tired of the way it
suffocates me
even years later
tired of you having so many
pieces of me still, tired
of trying to untangle the love
from the violence
tired of ever knowing any part
of you

mostly, i just hope you look in the mirror
one of these days
and realize the man looking back at you
would finally make good ol' step dad
real ******' proud
ghost girl Sep 2020
i'm watching the sunset
from the parking lot after work
and all the tendrils of all
the thoughts and feelings
in my head are lost to me,
close enough to see the silhouette,
too far to grasp.
i think of all of our sunsets
and i wish i'd held onto them,
those moments, a little longer.
lived them a little deeper.
we're strangers now, all of that
come and gone so quickly,
too quickly. and that's okay.
or it will be, someday.
the winds have changed,
and i have changed,
but my regret hangs in the
air like the purple in the clouds.
the sunset of you will
set one day and the sunset
will always remind me of you
but you'll become one of those
tendrils, the shape of something
that used to mean something
but unreachable,
like you were always
going to be.
ghost girl Dec 2021
grief hangs heavy,
guilt swallows my ankles, my knees -
and sometimes i think
i'll really just let them take me under
this time.
ghost girl Jul 2019
they don't taste right -
other boys.  they put their
hands on me and my brain
is the tornado and my mouth
is the hurricane and they
don't taste right. too much
salt, not enough sugar.
like a meal, always missing
something, never quite
sure what.

I never had that problem with
you. you were always just
right, tasted like warm whiskey
and strong coffee. always knew
where to put your hands.
ghost girl Jan 2017
fits and
starts
where I end
where you
begin
the lines
are intangible
my fingers
grasp
desperate
for something
to hold
on to
for fear
that we
will start
to slip
before
we even
begin to
solidify
because
because
because
this kind
of bliss
is foreign
to me
it is
new and
terrifying
and it
feels so
so impermanent

because these good things are almost always preface to my ruin and my heart slows in anticipation, in dread, because I'm waiting for that culmination.

because
nothing
good ever
stays.
ghost girl Nov 2014
I loved you
Once.

I loved you the way
Desperation loves
Quick hearts
And shallow breaths.

I loved you irresponsibly
And without limit.

It took me a long time to accept
You did not love me,
You never did,
You never would.

You didn’t love me in any kind of way
Except the way that attention loves
Its own reflection.

For me, you were a world I desperately
Longed for.
For you, I was an audience and all you
Longed for was applause.

It took me a long time to rebuild
The walls that you unabashedly destroyed.
I was a village you thoughtlessly set fire to.
And had you wiped me off the map,
You wouldn’t have spared a thought for me.

But here I am, rebuilt, whole,
And my foundations are so much stronger.
So for that, I thank you.
I thank you for recklessly destroying me
And showing me what love is and what
Love should never be.
ghost girl Feb 2015
I see you, sometimes, between the lines of now and then,
a sentence I could never quite finish, never quite erase.
still on paper you remain, smudged and
barely legible now. you are the poem I have never quite let go of.
and still, now and then, I will catch the smell of your shirt
hooking into me like barbed wire;
god I hate to be reminded of you,
hate to be reminded how there was a beginning
a half-written middle, and no end - just a comma, waiting for finish.
and I am still grudgingly hoping that someday
you will slip back in and finish it my sentence, my poem,
give me my goodbye, and I pray you do not leave your scent behind.
you stopped writing and so did I
ghost girl Oct 2016
a dance of sorts,
caught in a driftless sea.
fragments of memories
and the people
we used to be.
ghost girl Dec 2014
the light brings shine to surface
but darling, remember

-all that glitters is not gold;

the radiant sea will keep you afloat
as quick as it will claim your life.
ghost girl Mar 2017
when I let go,
universes fall away.
I found myself in
this sort of abyss,
floating somewhere that
is and is not. I am
no longer broken bones,
severed spine. I am
transcendent, I am
luminescent, omniscent.
I am everything,
I am nothing,
I simply
am and this
weightlessness
is more than divine,
it is the universe coming
to its conclusion, it is
beautiful combustion
it is starting over.

I am clean.
ghost girl Nov 2019
Denial
     things were never supposed to end
     like this.
     my body remembers you,
     like surgery, like scar.
     the imprint of loss doesn't fit
     when I was never supposed to lose you
     in the first place.

2. Anger
     the hands.
     the fists.
     screaming to skies that don't listen.
     apologies are nothing when you've
     shoved me into the villain role
     knowing all along you broke me in the first place.
  
3. Bargaining
     i'd give anything to have you back.
     i'd given anything to never
     want you back.
     and it's always right there in the middle.
     knowing you're no good for me,
     knowing that you could have been.

4. Depression
     the whole body ache. the
     imsorryitsamess I am doingmybest.
     the way they hold your hands and tell you
     it gets better, you get over it, you stop wanting
     you stop wanting. one day it just stops.
     it's the way they can't see the bruises, the battering
     because the outsides look fine. the outsides smile.
     the outsides are a good employee, a good friend.
     the outsides are a much better actor
     than i give them credit for.

5. Acceptance
     it's like marking a page in a book,
     setting it down, never picking it back up
     again. tragic. the movement of life. it sits
     on a shelf, months, years. you forget the plot
     the characters, the motion. your fingers run
     over its spine every so often, thinking you'll
     come back to it. it's how you never think the end
     is the end, how it burns, how you forget the last
     kiss, the last I love you, the last everything. how
     eventually, the sting of those lost memories stops
     stinging. how you forget you ever started the book
     in the first place


and it's how someday you do pick up the book
again, you do, and it all comes rushing back to you.
the circle of the stages, how each one becomes
a familiar visitor you welcome in with warm coffee
and ask how they've been. they don't ever really
ask you. for awhile, it's like getting hit in the stomach,
lost for air. eventually the visitors go elsewhere for
coffee, and you never realize when you've finally
put down that book for the last time.
ghost girl Jul 2013
Could I crawl out of my skin for a little while?
I’d like to go for a swim in far away universes
Doze in the Garden of Eden
Maybe plant some roses on the moon
Watch a year or two, maybe three, float by without the
Fistful of blades, the bleeding lips
And someday I can return to my body unafraid
And the mess life makes of me will not bother me
So much as it will fascinate me
The small things will not create chaos
And when I feel that unforgiving, angry fist
I’ll think of Eden and those pools of stars,
I’ll look up and see my roses on the moon.
ghost girl Feb 2020
i wish i could remember the
day everything popped, the
day the fissure ripped me in
two - broke me into pieces of
Feeling and
Unfeeling.

or maybe it was just like
poison in the water, not
enough to destroy but enough
to sicken - to warp the
sensations, the perceptions -
hot, cold, hate, love.

how happy and empty
seem to be the ends of the
extreme with no in between.
how it can change in a moment,
how the turning of the planet
manages to yank the ground
right out from under me.

how quickly the fruit sours,
the heart hardens.
the gardens turn graveyard
and i am left once more
with the wreckage of all that i
once loved, burned to ash.

maybe i am the villain.
maybe i am the virus
infecting all that i touch.
ghost girl Oct 2016
the hesitation
between mind and body
here and now,
now and then.
the taste on your lip,
the fear in your eye.

it's the apprehension in this hello,
the distress in this goodbye.
ghost girl Nov 2014
I carved myself a hollow in your chest
Called it home.
It’s something else to be encased
By your bones, to listen to the
Absolute lullaby of your heartbeat.
Your fingers crawled into my ribs
Tattooing your fingerprints into
My bones and I am yours, entirely
Utterly yours.
ghost girl Oct 2016
our little hearts break
under the weight of hundreds of years
millions of expectations

and I ask you
will we ever survive this?


our minds are empty
like draining sinks
like dry river beds

and you ask me are we
gonna weather this storm together?


we have nothing – we have I Don’t Know,
and we have
Maybe
If
Never
….why?


it’s never real

it’s an empty sink
it’s dry river beds and
grey soulless stones

it’s holding your hands out to the storm
and coming back emptier
than you ever were before.
ghost girl Dec 2014
I let you live in my bones
but you still won't take me home
and I sit here waiting for you,
plucking the petals from these
roses you left me with,
until my fingers are more blood
than skin and still you still tell me
it's not enough.

I built you into my skeleton,
laced you into my blood,
braided you into my very
existence, and you still
let me wither in the garden
of all your forgotten thoughts
and the only thing I've ever asked
of you is for you to love me
even half as much as I have loved you.
even if the sign said "no vacancy" I'd still follow you into the dark.
ghost girl Mar 2018
sometimes I love you
is an empty bed
and heavy silence

sometimes I miss you
is cold shoulders
and empty hands

sometimes I'm sorry
is a lonely night
and a lonelier morning

sometimes I love you
is more hurt than heart
more ache than adored.

--

where is the line
between worth it
and walk away?
I always think I'll
know, and sometimes
I know I will never
make the right choice
because your mouth
says so many good
things, even when
it's saying the worst
things.

sometimes I understand
when people tell you
you can't love someone
if you don't love yourself
because you don't know
where that line is of enough
and too much and just right
and that terrifies me.

love isn't always enough
and I don't know how to
make that picture whole
in my head, where love is
right and where love isn't
enough.
ghost girl Jul 2019
I wish you'd carry my body back
to the river, to the ocean, to the underwater
abyss where it belongs.
my bones have been used as kindling too
many times, my heart the flame,
my blood the life pumping through veins
that have never been under my skin.
my ashes have been spread in graveyards
I never meant to die in and they take
my fingers, they take my hands,
held above the fire for warmth, held
in the candle wax, calling it my rebirth.
I wish you'd give my body back, still
feel the map of me being rewritten by
your fingertips, the weight of you,
the breath that was no longer mine to
take, or mine to give.
the way you anchored my soul, tethered
it to 'home' but you forgot to take it with you
when we left. nothing's been home since.
ghost girl Feb 2018
so we tangled ourselves
up in this weird nightmare
do you remember? sitting
on that couch, inhaling all the
air around us like smoke and it was
smoke but it was different -
thick and heavy like it was going
to choke us, but we kept
breathing it in like it was
oxygen and you watched me
bleed out, watched the tendrils
drip from my lips, slip out my
eyes - you would have
let me die there. and i did.
part of me did, listening to your
simpering neediness of
how much you needed me
how much you loved me
how i kept you going but
i wasn't i wasn't
i was drowning myself
for someone who couldn't
swim, someone who found
contentment in the mouths
of other girls and i was that
girl who blamed them and
hated them when i should have
hated you

you fed me that smoke. i thought
we were breathing together
but you were poisoning me
had me on a slow boil,
never knowing my own
mortality til it was too late
and you didn't mind.
ghost girl Dec 2014
so the ghost
in my bones can
finally
go home
I cheated a little bit.
ghost girl Nov 2016
take your time,
it's alright to go slow;
but my god I want to know
how it feels
to kiss you.
ghost girl Dec 2014
kiss me like I’m the last thing you’ll ever taste
ghost girl May 2018
wait
flows from my
body like
blood
skin left ragged
asking why
as if my
shallow pulse
needs more than
desperate mouth
to mouth
whispering to
each other what
is the point?

but there's only
silence left
longer than a
lingering *how
are you still
like this?
ghost girl Feb 2020
not dead, just
cold - the absence of
life. like the
ghosts of trees,
in winter,
blown bare of
leaves -
all that remains
the silhouette
of an existence.
ghost girl Jul 2018
i lost my heart
somewhere back there
trudging along,
knee-deep in mud
and anger. you were
my guiding light,
a false prophet,
leading me deeper
into the void and
telling me, so gently,
that we were on the
cusp of paradise. and
honey, you spoke like
an angel - whispered words
of honey and agony, and i
hung on every sip.
drawing me in with
tightly laced tendrils
of poison, whole body
ravage, an uninvited
suicide. i don't exist
anymore, not sure i ever
did. parts of my dissolved
along with my heart,
shriveling into contorted
reality. watching myself
slip away into the
ether - watching your
diligent mask slide
off, fat chunks of
rotten meat and when
i saw your face i was
not filled with regret.
only mourning for the
heart that was once in
you. the heart long ago,
like mine, shriveled by
a hungering, false prophet
desperate for the next victim.

and now i watch him
hanging on my words the
way i once did yours and
i wonder what kind of
bullet it takes to ****
the devil.
ghost girl Mar 2021
the fear
that after all this
time, all this
mess, all this
fight

that I will only lose
you to the
war in your
mind
ghost girl Nov 2014
I told you
Once
I told you
A million
Times

I'm fine
(my chest is caving in)
I'm okay
(I can't breathe I can't think I can't)

I told you with clenched fists
And wild eyes
I'll be alright I'll be fine
It's all just in my mind.
ghost girl Feb 2022
i miss you
(all the time)

but it is what it is
(my fault).
ghost girl Jun 2017
take me down,
down to the knee.
spill my blood,
smear me across
canvas. let me
bend like soft
wood, twine
my roots through
earth and body.
flood me like
waterfall, cascading
down the jutting
cliffs of your ever
sharpening body.
let me rise like mist,
disappearing
into cold dark sky
absorbed into
the atmosphere,
into the everything
and the nothing
where I belong.
ghost girl Nov 2016
thank you
for everything.
thank you for all of
our greatest moments,
thank you for our triumphs,
for our growths, for our victories.
and even for our losses, thank you for
the injuries. thank you for loving me, and for
destroying me. because in the wake of you, I have
learned more than I ever could have imagined. I am more
myself than I have been my whole life. you showed me what love
can be, and what love should be, and definitely what love isn't. you
showed me that I could break away from the things that
wreck me. that I can still grow and change and
become a more perfect version of a flawed
and broken girl. thank you for giving
me that strength. thank you for
loving me. thank you for
being the first, and
but the most for
not being my
last.
ghost girl Dec 2016
did you know?
when you laid hands
on this fire skin the
flames that licked
underneath?
did you see the
way your palm
seared itself into
my skin? marks like
that rarely last
but days and
days
and days
later,
that mark is
still there

and god, I realized
how you pulled
me out of that
burning abyss
I realized
you
saved me
from drowning
in this ocean
of myself
and I can't
thank you
enough
but god I'm
sorry for the
way things still come
out of my mouth
like terrified
little
whispers

I'm sorry I'm
still wading in this
river of fear
because I know
you're nothing
like what
came
before
you
but I'm scared
I'm still
there
you know?
that girl
from before
and I are
nothing alike these days but I feel her sometimes creeping under my skin telling me you loved a monster you are a monster he'll never love you nothing will ever be okay just wait for the day he leaves and you forget how to catch your breath

I don't know how to
shut her up, but I know
neither of us deserves
her breathing down our
necks
but know
just know
I am
so grateful
for the way
you don't
put me
back together
but the way you
hold onto me
while I do
it
my
*self
ghost girl Dec 2017
doomed myself
to sisyphus

watching that boulder
roll past me

day after day
year after year

doomed myself
to narcissus

drowning in
the oceans of

my own expectation
for eternity

i am complexes,
i am enigmas

i am nothing i have
designed for myself

i am trapped in the round
tables of beauty and purpose

that have been created in
circle after circle after

circle and someday i yearn
to press my palm

through the surface for
what's beneath

and someday i will
destroy that boulder

and neither will rule
my existence

and i will be free
from that circle

someday.
someday.
ghost girl Oct 2016
tender little fingertips
too afraid to let go -
tracing at the frail
lines of your bittersweetest
existence.

and they'll tell you
to wait it out
to let it be,
let you sink
while demanding
you rise beyond
hand-drawn lines.
ghost girl Oct 2019
the ghosts in the attic
play melodies on the piano,
something about how
love will always end
in destruction, either in life
or after death.

they tell us stories of the
ocean, how she can carry a
ship yet slip through your fingers,
how she kisses the shores,
yet she's always in pull
to the moon.

the ghosts in the attic tell
us how your soul will always
be bound to the places that
harmed you the most, how you
will move through walls but
you'll always sink right back
to the stain on the carpet.

they tell you to learn how to be
good with your hands, to paint
the love you feel on every canvas
you touch, to carry a heart gently
but know to make a fist when needed.

they tell us how they lived and
died in agony, how they watch
the living do the same. how the cycle
repeats itself, how the ghosts
in the attic become us,
how we become them.
ghost girl May 2018
all I want
in this life
is to no
longer be in
possession of
this life.
ghost girl Jan 2019
I dream about magic.
about bending time
and undoing the strings
of mistakes that land
me here every night,
the ocean of regret
and longing.

I dream about the
drifting, the days
I spent pushing you
away and the night
I spent falling into
the wrong arms.

my favorite dream is the
one where we go to bed
together, where
we should have been
all along.

that's the dream. the
longing is the nightmare.
ghost girl Oct 2019
there are days the sun
captures me, pulls me back
into life and I feel it in every
cell of my body, light and
warmth and life.

and there are days I am
desperate for the ground to
open up and swallow me,
to blink out of existence,
for the planet to turn
without me on it.

the sunny days are few
and far between. I spend
far too much time with my
feet firm on the ground
waiting for departure.

I'm so afraid the time will
come where the sun isn't
enough anymore, and I won't
be enough anymore and
I'll give up waiting
for the departure and
leave by myself.
ghost girl Dec 2014
Long after existence has ceased,
I will have loved you.
Oceans will dry up and stars will burn out,
And I will have loved you.
This planet will no longer rotate on its axis
And I will have felt your lips against my neck,
Your fingers will have found their way up my spine
And I will have loved you.
The abyss will swallow us whole
But you will have loved me.
ghost girl Apr 2013
Her lips shiver, shatter like glass
Pepper the ground
Slice your aching feet
Yet you bend to collect the shards
Glue her back together, kiss
Her broken smile.

Her fingertips melt fire into
Your skin, but you don’t seem to mind
Don’t seem to mind that she inhales
Part of you every time
She breathes in too deep
She doesn’t seem to mind that your ribs crack
Beneath her palms
Each time her fingers trace your skin

She is the permanence of your spine
You are the ache in her chest.
So easily forgets when you fall
She will be the one to pull you to your feet
She forgets that as intertwined as she is
With you
You are an ending
Without her.
ghost girl Nov 2014
I don’t want to be a delicate ******* flower
I want to be made of stone
I want to be a formidable tower
I want to be a battering ram
I don’t want to watch the world’s eyes pass over me
Like they do every ******* day
I don’t want to be the paper-hearted girl anymore
Because my heart always ends up torn and shredded
And balled up in some trash bin because
Somebody ****** up and decided to start over
But the funny thing is, you don’t get a new heart
Once it’s been broken. You left me with no other
Option but to fish my crumpled paper heart out of the
Trash, to smooth out and to erase the marks you left
But you can still see the wrinkles and the imprints
Of what was written. There’s no fresh heart for me.
There’s no replacing the petals that were lost to the
“He loves me, he loves me not” game. I may be
Made of stone, but I am just a pebble thrown
Around by the smallest body of water.
I may be a tower, but I’m a lego tower
And just the fist of a child could destroy me.
And ******* my paper heart.
Did you have to write your name in pen?
sorry for all the *****
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